The Life and Traditions of the Red Man: A rediscovered treasure of Native American literature 9780822389842

Citation preview

Original 1893 title page of The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man * by * Joseph Nicolar

Edited, Annotated, and with a History of the Penobscot Nation and an Introduction by

A n n ett e Ko lo d n y

Duke University Press Durham and London 2007

2nd printing, 2007 © 2007 Duke University Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper ♾ Designed by C. H. Westmoreland Typeset in Musee by Tseng Information Systems, Inc. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data appear on the last printed page of this book. Page ii: Double-curve design from Penobscot cape, denoting union of tribes assembled for a ceremony, from Frank G. Speck, The Double Curve Motive in Northeastern Art, 1914.

Con ten ts

Illustrations  vii Preface by Charles Norman Shay  ix Acknowledgments  xiii A Summary History of the Penobscot Nation by Annette Kolodny  1

Introduction to Joseph Nicolar’s 1893 The Life and Traditions of the Red Man by Annette Kolodny  35 A Note on Nicolar’s Text  89 Jo s e p h N ic ol a r ’s The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

Preface   95 C h a pt er I. The Creation.—Klose-kur-beh’s Journey. —Meeting his Companions.—The Marriage.  97 C h a pt er II. With the aid of May May, Klose-kur-beh destroyed the Serpent.—The Sea Voyage.  114 C h a pt e r III . Klose-kur-beh’s hunting.—The first mother changed into corn and tobacco.  130 C h a pter I V. The winter and the seven years famine. —The discovery of the first white man’s track.  142 C h a pte r V. The fish famine—The capture of the white swan and the white spiritual men driven away.  161 C h a pt e r V I . The winding up the war with the May-Quays. —The grand council established—The arrival and settlement of the white man.  184

Con cl usion   195

Notes to the Nicolar Text  201 Afterword by Bonnie D. Newsom  213 Works Consulted and

Recommendations for Further Reading  215 Illustration Credits  221

Ill us trat ion s

Original 1893 title page  ( frontispiece) Charles Norman Shay standing in front of a painted portrait of his grandfather  x

Indian Landing and Indian Island from Old Town, Maine, in the log drive era  25

The Indian Island School in 1910  25 Sawdust pathway across the Penobscot River, ca. 1940s  26 Bridge across the Penobscot River, completed in 1950  26 The Penobscot Village at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, 1893  37

Studio photographic portrait of Joseph Nicolar published in original 1893 edition  90

Studio photographic portrait believed to be of Joseph Nicolar in traditional ceremonial attire  94

Preface by Charles Norman Shay

I grew up on the Penobscot Indian reservation in Old Town, Maine, in the home of my grandfather, Joseph Nicolar. Although he died in 1894, thirty years before my own life began, he was a presence in my life. A photograph of him (the same one published in the original 1893 edition of this book) always hung in the living room above the piano. Because of this, every time my mother sat at the keyboard, it was as if she were playing for him as much as for anyone else who was there. My grandfather’s house was not what most people might imagine an Indian reservation home to have been in those days. It was two stories with a mansard roof and was rather spacious. But there were few luxuries other than the piano. Like everyone else on the reservation before the mid-1900s, we had an outhouse and relied on woodburning stoves for warmth. One special thing that distinguished the place as an Indian home was the basket-making room where family members made traditional baskets out of ash and sweet grass. The house still stands, although worn by age. I first read Life and Traditions of the Red Man just after World War II. I had left home at the age of eighteen, joined the army, and served in Europe during the war. Afterward, I returned home with my Austrian bride, Lilli, and we lived briefly with my parents. It was during that time that I read my grandfather’s book. I didn’t delve into the meaning of it then, but I remember being impressed by the accomplishment of writing and publishing a text so full of detailed information. Such an achievement would be difficult for anyone, anytime. But my grandfather managed to do it in an era when Indians were looked down upon. That impressed me. I was also impressed to see in the book the same photo of him that hung above the piano. He looked very neat, dignified. That meant something to me. When I was a boy, cutting and piling wood for the stove, it had to look good. I’d

 P r e f ac e

Charles Norman Shay standing in front of a painted portrait of his grandfather

stack it carefully, and then I’d stand back and look at it and have a feeling of satisfaction. Perhaps this desire to do things well and in a dignified manner came from my grandfather. In the four decades following my first reading of my grandfather’s book, my wife and I lived away from the reservation—in Colorado and Vienna, Austria. Then, in 1988, after inheriting the property of my maternal aunt, Lucy Nicolar Poolaw, I began spending summers back on the reservation. I devoted myself to renovating the house and the big wooden tipi in which Lucy and her Kiowa husband Bruce Poolaw had an Indian crafts shop. Also, seeking to reacquaint myself with the place and people of my childhood, I bought and reread my grandfather’s book. Unlike the first copy I read, which must have been an original, the second was a reprint published in 1979. When invited in 2005 to write a preface for a new reprint, I read the book once again. This time it struck me how the Indian way of life and culture is built largely on legends and passed down from one gen-



C h a rl e s N o rm a n S hay

xi

eration to the next—and how my grandfather tried to communicate this in written form. I see it as a preservation of what he knew, what he’d heard and learned directly. Concerned that the old storytellers were dying off and that new generations would be swept up in assimilation, he gathered up their stories and put them in book form so that those who came later might learn and understand. And now, over a century later, young Penobscots are showing interest in the old stories, and the state of Maine has legislated that Native American history and culture comprise part of every young person’s education. Thus, I feel that reprinting Joseph Nicolar’s book at this time is a good idea. I find it interesting that my grandfather wrote his book in Eng‑ lish—and that I would not have been able to read it if he had written it in Penobscot. I grew up aware of my Native language, since adults on the reservation all knew it and used it. For example, my grandmother on my father’s side spoke very little English, so when she and my paternal grandfather visited, they spoke only Indian with my parents. It sounded familiar to me, and I came to recognize a few words, but I never learned the language. The emphasis from my mother was that we were destined to integrate and that that was our hope for survival. To do that we needed to speak English. So we did. While I regret never learning my Native tongue, I am grateful to have a book filled with traditional knowledge drawn from Penobscots who lived and breathed the language and the culture. And I’m deeply grateful to my grandfather for having the foresight and discipline to write this book. As the last of Joseph Nicolar’s grandchildren, I would like to dedicate these words to his memory—and to that of my brother Thomas Leo Shay, who passed away just recently.

Charles Norman Shay Indian Island, September 2005

Acknowledgments

During the four years I worked on this project, I have enjoyed the assistance of three extraordinarily talented graduate student research assistants, each of whom is now a faculty member training their own students. My heartfelt appreciation goes out to James D. Lilley, Melissa Ryan, and especially to Tom Hillard who often went beyond the call of duty in helping me prepare the final manuscript for publication. I also wish to thank my wonderful undergraduate research assistant, Anthony Mancuso. I first heard about the existence of Joseph Nicolar’s book during the summer of 2000, when I traveled to Maine and met with the journalist Robert Kord and my good friend and repeated teacher, Wayne Newell of the Passamaquoddy tribe. My guide and helper that summer was another dear friend and teacher, Moses Lewey, also of the Passamaquoddy tribe. A former research assistant and expert on indigenous literatures, Chadwick Allen, joined me for that trip and provided invaluable advice. I thank all four. While I was first working on a draft of the introduction to Nicolar’s text, I repeatedly received both encouragement and good advice from James Sappier, Chief of the Penobscot Nation, and from Arnie Neptune, a revered Penobscot elder and spiritual leader. Traveling to Maine in June 2005, I was privileged to enjoy lengthy meetings with James Sappier; and my husband and I were welcomed by the gracious hospitality of Jane and Arnie Neptune. Bonnie Newsom, Director of the Penobscot Nation’s Department of Cultural and Historic Preservation, organized an important meeting for me with members of her committee, Nicolar family members, and other knowledgeable members of the Penobscot Nation. In addition to Bonnie, those in attendance at this meeting included Joline Blais, Emma Francis, James Eric Francis, Lee Ann Francis, Yvonne Francis, Maria Girouard, Edwina Mitchell, Arnie Neptune, James Neptune, Jane Neptune, Eric Nicolar, Leroy Nicolar, Kathleen Paul, Charles Norman Shay, Chris Sockalexis, and Rob Sockalexis. I deeply appreciate Bonnie’s organizing

xiv Ack n owle d g m ent s

and facilitating this meeting, and I am equally grateful for the candid discussions and feedback that I received from everyone present. A special word of thanks must go to members of the Nicolar family who shared their views on this project with me and offered additional information: Emma Francis, Cal and Michelle Francis, Eric Nicolar, Leroy Nicolar, and Joseph Nicolar’s grandson, Charles Norman Shay. No words can adequately express my gratitude to Charles Norman Shay for his kindness, generosity, and constant encouragement. This project could not have proceeded without his unflagging support. James Eric Francis, Penobscot Nation Historian, met with me at length, provided photographs and historical information, and generously read through my various drafts. Bonnie Newsom provided continued feedback on both my Summary History of the Penobscot Nation and my Introduction to Nicolar’s text. She also composed an eloquent Afterword for this volume. James Neptune, Coordinator of the Penobscot Nation Museum on Indian Island, generously shared his time and the museum’s collections and resources with me. I am also indebted to Carol Dana and Gabe Paul for their help with background information about Penobscot lore and language. Maria Girouard offered additional feedback, and Carole Binette, Census Coordinator of the Penobscot Nation, provided vital genealogical information. The expertise and helpfulness of these individuals are all over these pages. Many non-Native scholars who have studied both the Penobscot Nation and the history of Native peoples in Maine generously provided answers to my many queries and shared the fruits of their own research. These included the anthropologist Bruce J. Bourque; Julia Clark, Collections Manager, Abbe Museum; Rebecca Cole-Will, Curator, Abbe Museum; Gretchen Faulkner, Director, Hudson Museum; the archeologist Mark Hedden; Harold Lacadie, Old Town Museum; the anthropologist Bunny McBride; the historian Pauleena MacDougall; the ethnohistorian Harald Prins; and the anthropologist Dean R. Snow. Additionally, Michael Running Wolf, a member of the Micmac tribe, helped with translations of some Penobscot place names. Conor McDonough Quinn, a protégé of the late Frank T. Siebert Jr., was a graduate student in linguistics at Harvard University during the period that this book was being edited. Despite his many other obligations, Conor was nothing short of extraordinary in his willingness to translate Penobscot words and teach me about the grammar



Ack n owle d g m e n t s

xv

and etymology of the Penobscot language. For over two years, even as he wrote his dissertation and approached his dissertation defense, he was endlessly responsive to my e-mail queries and telephone calls. The late Frank T. Siebert Jr. (1912–98) studied the Penobscots for most of his adult life, living permanently at Old Town, Maine, since 1968. Unfortunately, Siebert’s Penobscot–English Dictionary, his collection of Penobscot legends, and his field notes all remain unpublished at this time, although available to scholars in the manuscript collections of the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. Having been befriended by and having worked with Siebert for several years, Conor McDonough Quinn was able to share with me information and insights gathered by Siebert. Some of Siebert’s extant publications were also very helpful. Staff members in the College of Humanities Dean’s Office at the University of Arizona repeatedly provided help in securing books, permissions, and archival photographs, as well as helping with travel paperwork and the other myriad necessities of a scholar’s life. I owe many thanks to Tara Boozer, Nora Frye, Debra Olson, Kris Sansbury, and Debbie Spargur. I am also grateful to Charles Tatum, Dean of the College of Humanities at the University of Arizona, who, in difficult budget times, valued and supported this project with research funding. My editor at Duke University Press, Reynolds Smith, has consistently been a cherished friend and an unerring editor. His enthusiasm for this project was immediate and unwavering. Every stage of publication also benefited from the care and attention of Mark Mastromarino, Assistant Managing Editor, Books Division, and Sharon P. Torian, Senior Editorial Assistant at Duke University Press. Finally, I am deeply grateful to my husband, the novelist Daniel Peters, for all his encouragement, assistance, and love. My debilitating rheumatoid arthritis would not have permitted me to travel so extensively for research without Dan’s patient and loving caretaking at every stage. The help of all these good people has certainly made this a better book. But where there are errors or ineptitude, those are entirely my own.

Annette Kolodny Tucson, Arizona May 2006

A Summary History of the Penobscot Nation by Annette Kolodny “A Penobscot Elder speaking in Council said, ‘I love this island, all our islands, and our river. There is no other place for us to go.’ ” —Reported by James Sappier, Penobscot Elder, at a meeting of the New England Law Review, Boston, 25 October 2002

Nowadays the name Penobscot is shared by both a river and a people in Maine, denoting the river’s centrality to the Penobscot Nation’s history, culture, and economy. For most of the Nation’s existence, the river served as a source of food and water as well as a highway that connected the many villages along its banks while giving access to hunting grounds in the north and the ocean and clam banks to the south. Literally, the word Penobscot means “the rocky place” or “the descending rocky ledge” and refers to a ten-mile succession of treacherous rapids and waterfalls that once marked the river from present-day Old Town to Bangor, Maine. But because Europeans rarely understood Native languages and could not always accurately reproduce the names that Native peoples assigned to their world, they sometimes confused the word Penobscot with Pemtegwa’took, a descriptor for another part of the same river. An old term that has long fallen out of use, Pemtegwa’took means “the main river” or, more accurately, “the broad water where the river and ocean waters unite.” For the Penobscot people, this word probably once referred to that part of the river from Bangor south to the river’s entry into the Atlantic Ocean at what is now known as Penobscot Bay. After all, for the indigenous inhabitants of the area, assigning the river only a single name would have served little purpose. What was important to them was the identification and naming of the specific geographical features that they would encounter as they canoed its waters. For the

 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

Europeans, by contrast, a river needed to be named in its entirety on the maps they constructed. As a result, many early French and English maps are rife with confusions and conflations of the different Native names for different portions of the river. Whatever the Europeans’ pronunciation (or mispronunciation) of the river’s name, however, they so identified the people who lived along its banks with the river itself that the Europeans called them, too, Penobscot, thus forever identifying them as the people of the river. The word Penobscot is also used as the name for the Nation’s language, a member of the Eastern Algonquian family of languages. Eastern Algonquian languages were once spoken by Native peoples all along the Atlantic seaboard, from the Canadian Maritime Provinces to North Carolina. Speakers of any one of these dialects were generally intelligible to speakers of other dialects in neighboring tribes; but communication became more difficult the farther away one ventured. In the centuries before the arrival of Europeans, all the tribes in Maine—like the Penobscot—spoke an Eastern Algonquian dialect, and each tribe’s dialect was distinctive from the others’. Modern archeologists posit several different migrations of first peoples to the area we now call Maine. Some groups remained, others moved on. Archeological studies have found evidence of human habitation in Maine dating back about eleven thousand years, perhaps more. Penobscot tribal traditions hint at an early presence, before the last continental glacier entirely receded, when cold weather dominated and mammoths and mastodons still roamed North America. During their own long occupation in Maine, the peoples who became the Penobscot adapted to cycles of fierce climatic change by developing a variety of technologies. Snowshoes, spears, and bows and sharp stone-tipped arrows allowed them to hunt large and small game even in the harshest winters. Bone fishing gear, including harpoons and fishhooks, helped them to exploit the riches of the rivers and ocean alike, while fast and easily maneuverable birch-bark canoes (which probably evolved from earlier wooden dugout canoes) permitted ready access to almost every waterway. Largely a hunting and gathering people, the ancestors of today’s Penobscots gradually learned to utilize vast varieties of plant life—seeds, nuts, roots, and berries— both for food and for their value as medicinals. During a period of unusual warming that lasted from about AD 1000 through AD 1300, the southernmost segments of these peoples probably also experimented



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny



with the cultivation of beans, squash, and corn, crops introduced from tribes to the south and west. By the time the French and the English first began serious explorations of the Maine coast in the sixteenth century, Penobscot territory covered the river’s entire ten-million-acre watershed, and the people lived in eight to ten semi-permanent villages all along the river’s banks. By this time, too, Penobscot lifeways had evolved into regular and repeated seasonal patterns that moved the bands from summer residence on the coast to winter residence in the villages in the interior. In the winter, small groups went out to hunt in the forests, thereby supplementing dried provisions gathered the previous summer and autumn and carefully stored in beautifully woven birchbark containers. Spring brought abundant fish runs on the river and its estuaries and tributaries. Summer invited the harvesting of shellfish along the coast, and in good years it also everywhere produced a plenitude of plant and animal life. With their diet rich in protein and plant materials, their regular use of sweat lodges, and their villages not yet devastated by epidemic diseases introduced from Europe, it is little wonder that the Penobscots were so often described by the early Europeans as physically attractive, healthy, and unusually long lived. As they became more populous, Penobscot ancestors developed increasingly complex social arrangements. The division of labor gradually coalesced around relatively fixed gender roles, with males and females taking on different—albeit equally crucial—responsibilities. Hunting, fishing, warfare, and the fabrication of canoes and implements of warfare were the responsibilities of men, while women wove basswood or birch-bark mats and baskets, attended to cooking, child care, and the preparation of skins and clothing, and, together with the children, gathered plant materials for food and medicine. At marriage, the husband’s family usually gave significant gifts to the family of the bride. Over time, extended families organized themselves into bands, and different bands allied with one another as clans under the sign of powerful animal symbols like the bear, the otter, or the eel. Clan membership was patrilineal. Hereditary chiefs and subchiefs (sometimes called sachems or sagamores by the Europeans who attempted to pronounce their Native titles) consulted with their councils and mediated both intra- and inter-tribal disputes and disagreements. When disagreements or territorial disputes could not be

 S u mm a ry H i s to ry o f t h e Penobs co t Na t ion

negotiated, there was warfare. The knapped stone projectile points so useful in the hunt could also serve as lethal weaponry. The arche‑ ology of Maine reveals evidence of warfare between neighboring tribes as well as between the Maine tribes and invading Iroquoianspeaking groups from the south and west. Prisoners taken during such warfare were not always killed, however. Many—especially children and young adults—were adopted into the tribe and became full tribal members. Archeological excavations also make clear that the ancestors of the Penobscots participated in far-flung trade networks that reached north, south, and to the west. Items exchanged in trade included foodstuffs, tobacco, fine animal pelts, shell beads, raw native copper, some ceramic pottery, and probably basketwork as well. Although fragments of ancient perishable woven goods like basketry have only rarely survived, we may assume that Penobscot baskets were especially prized in trade because the Europeans who first met up with the Penobscots during the early decades of the seventeenth century regularly commented upon the quality and beautiful designs of their baskets, woven mats, and beadwork. But while many early Europeans were quick to admire selected aspects of Penobscot material culture, they were almost wholly incapable of understanding indigenous spiritual practices and religious beliefs. Indeed, many Europeans were convinced that Native peoples in New England were without religion of any kind. Accustomed to organized worship in churches and cathedrals, European arrivals in Maine (whether Catholic or Protestants) could not recognize as religion activities which required neither altars nor hymnals. What little the Europeans were able to observe of Native practices were generally characterized by them as “devil worship,” while the healers, spiritual leaders, and dream diviners in the tribes were dismissed as charlatans, tricksters, or jongleurs (jugglers and acrobats) as the French called them. Yet the precontact Eastern Algonquian-speaking tribes of the Canadian Maritimes and Maine experienced their world as everywhere alive with spiritual powers and kin-beings. The very grammar of their dialects rendered certain kinds of stones or even a snowball as animate and potentially endowed with personhood. Despite many cultural differences between these tribes, their traditional stories generally taught them that the plants and animals were their helpers



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny



and companions, just as the people, in their turn, were to act as kin and companions to the living world around them. Their stories were also filled with both benign and dangerous natural phenomena—like the frost in winter or Earthquake—who take human form and interact directly with the people even while retaining their capacities to bring on a colder climate or shake the earth. Such stories embed their listeners in a universe of mutually interacting and intimate reciprocal relationships. Thus, even today, a traditionally inclined member of the Penobscot community may leave an offering of tobacco at one of the falls in the river in order to signify respect for the inherent powers (or personhood) of the place and to seek safe passage on a boat trip downriver. Many in the Penobscot Nation still revere Maine’s tallest mountain, Mount Katahdin, as the place where Earth Mother reaches to the sky, a place of enduring sacred power and beauty. So even though the Europeans could not recognize any of this as religious or understand reverence for a mountain as a culturally meaningful form of worship, in actual fact, traditional Penobscot belief systems were deeply respectful of the indwelling sanctity of the world and imbued with a profound sense of the interconnectedness of all creation. Unfortunately, the contact period and everything that followed was marked by incompatible belief systems, language barriers, competing economic and political structures, wildly incommensurate understandings of land use and property ownership, and, from the beginning, epidemic diseases. From the late fifteenth century on, random encounters between Native peoples and European explorers and European fishing expeditions had introduced European diseases against which the Natives had no immunity. By the 1580s, mysterious illnesses were being reported by bands of Micmacs (also an Eastern Algonquian–speaking people) in Nova Scotia. Even when there was no direct contact between Natives and Europeans, the diseases were spread through Native trade networks or during periods of intertribal warfare. Smallpox, typhus, diphtheria, measles, whooping cough, and influenza reached devastatingly epidemic proportions, however, once European settlement began in earnest. In 1604, under the direction of Samuel de Champlain, Sieur de Monts and his men established the first European settlement (north of Florida) in North America on St. Croix Island in the St. Croix River. Although this settlement was short lived, it initiated France’s entry

 Su mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

into the fur trade and was followed by the establishment of more permanent French settlements, forts, and trading posts in Quebec, Nova Scotia, and Maine. In 1607, the English attempted their first colony in Maine near present-day Popham Beach at the mouth of the Kennebec River. Although, like France’s St. Croix Island settlement, the Popham Colony lasted only a year, the would-be colonists who returned to Eng‑­ land added to other contemporary accounts of the natural riches of the area: fish in abundance, hardwood forests to supply masts for Eng­‑ lish ships, and plenty of game, including beaver, whose pelts brought a high price in Europe for the making of gentlemen’s felt hats. All this helped fuel English interest in investing in colonies, an interest that took permanent root with the Jamestown, Virginia, colony in 1607 and the Plymouth Colony in 1620. The establishment of the Plymouth Colony was followed by what has been termed “the Great Migration” to the Massachusetts Bay Colony beginning ten years later. To be sure, both the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay ventures were primarily spurred by religious motives. Dissenting Puritans were seeking freedom of worship someplace beyond the reach of the English Anglican Church. But commerce and the promise of wealth motivated their financial backers as well as many of the non-Puritan colonists. The English cleared the forests for their farms, harvested timber for shipbuilding, and quickly began competing with the French in the lucrative fur trade. Just five years after landing at Plymouth, the English established an outpost on the Kennebec River, near what is now Augusta, where they traded Massachusetts corn for valued furs trapped and hunted by Maine Indians. Meanwhile, the Dutch had also established settlements and were setting up their own furtrading posts in and around what would become Albany, New York. Of course, few Europeans knew the territory well or possessed the skills efficiently to track wild game. For this they depended upon the local tribes who, in turn, began to compete with one another and with the Europeans for the profits of the fur trade. Old inter-tribal enmities resurfaced. And while the Europeans bid for alliances with different tribal groups in order both to protect their share of the fur trade and to secure allies in warfare, so too the Native groups manipulated the Europeans for much the same reasons. Eastern Algonquian–speaking tribes in Maine and New France used the French forts, the steel arrowheads provided by the French, and the French muskets obtained in trade to defend themselves against one another



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny



and against invading Iroquoian-speaking groups like the Mohawks. For similar reasons, the five tribes within the League of the Iroquois (the Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, Oneida, and Mohawk) forged relationships with the Dutch and the English. Ironically, as long as Native peoples could keep the Europeans dependent upon them as local ethnic mercenaries and partners in the fur trade, they could play the European powers off against one another and retain some measure of political and economic control over their traditional territories.1 One crucial strategy for containing the growing presence of the Europeans was increased cooperation even between tribes that had previously been at war with one another. A series of loose tribal alliances developed gradually, but in the 1640s—as competition in the beaver trade intensified—several Algonquian-speaking tribes from Maine and the Saint Lawrence River Valley coalesced into a more stable partnership with the French. In the 1660s, another alliance brought together Algonquian tribes between the Hudson and Kennebec rivers. By about 1675, however, the combined effects of raids by members of the Iroquois League and the ever-increasing numbers of English settlers taking over Native lands became intolerable. Understanding that their very survival was threatened, several Eastern Algonquian–speaking tribes from Maine, the Maritime Provinces, and eastern Quebec forged a firmer cross-tribal alliance known as the Wabanaki Confederacy. In addition to some more remote communities from Vermont, New Hampshire, and western Maine, this alliance drew together the Penobscot, Passamaquoddy, Maliseet, Micmac, and possibly also the Montagnais-Naskapi of Labrador. The name of the confederacy derived from the word wabahn, meaning light, white, or sun, and identified these groups as the easternmost tribes in the area, situated where the sun first rises, literally “the peoples of the Dawnland.” Once organized, the Wabanaki Confederacy proved an influential military and political force, able to negotiate with the Europeans for their own advantage and, if necessary, unite to take up arms. Nonetheless, European diseases inevitably tipped the precarious balance of power against the tribes. Even before the Pilgrims first landed at Plymouth in 1620, between 1616 and 1619, during a period labeled by the English as the “Great Dying,” European diseases depopulated coastal areas from the mouth of the Penobscot to Cape Cod. Fully 75 percent of the Native peoples in these areas are believed to have perished in the pandemic.

 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

What is striking in the letters, diaries, and books written by seventeenth- and eighteenth-century European explorers and colo‑ nizers is just how many Native villages there once were in Maine. No European went anywhere in early New England and New France without encountering sizeable populations of indigenous peoples. The French tended to group together different tribes into semi-generic names like the Abenaki (probably a French form of “Wabanaki”), Souriquois, Etchemin, and Armouchiquois, based on perceived cultural or linguistic affinities. The English referred to indigenous groups in terms of their seasonal or semi-permanent geographical locations—usually names of local rivers—but often confused village and tribal names or assigned more than one name to the same group. The English thus left us many names that are still familiar—Penobscot, Passamaquoddy, Micmac, Maliseet, Kennebec, Saco, Androscoggin— and those that are less familiar, like the Pigquacket, Wawenoc, Norridgewock, Sheepscot, and, once the southernmost tribe in Maine, the Pennacook. Yet by 1620 entire villages were already beginning to disappear. In some cases, these villages were first defeated by the Micmacs during the Tarrantine Wars from 1607 to 1615. These wars pitted an alliance of Maine tribes under the leadership of the Penobscots against the Micmacs from Nova Scotia, with both sides battling to control the fur trade with the French (while the French continued to trade with all sides). Notwithstanding these eight years of warfare with the Micmacs, which were probably the first occasion in which Native peoples used muskets against one another, what finally decimated the weakened Maine villages were the new diseases spread by the Micmacs from their contacts with the French at the trading post at Port Royal in Nova Scotia. Many demographers and epidemiologists estimate that imported European diseases, combined with the ongoing warfare, killed off as much as 90 percent of New Eng‑ land’s indigenous populations within the first one hundred years of contact. In consequence, remnants of once independent tribes coalesced into new groupings or found refuge in the villages of other tribes both in Maine and Canada. As the strongest tribe in Maine, the Penobscots repeatedly took in survivors of epidemics and refugees from English and Mohawk raids. In 1669, the combined scourges of disease and warfare drove a number of Penobscot tribal members to leave their villages on the river’s banks and establish a new place of refuge on Indian Island (today the Nation’s main community),



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny



in the middle of the Penobscot River about twelve miles north of Bangor. With their numbers depleted by epidemic diseases and many of their villages deserted, the tribes in Maine attempted to protect what they could of their traditional territories and to remain neutral in the growing warfare between France and England, both of which claimed Maine as their own. But protecting their lands wasn’t easy, in part because Native peoples did not understand the European concept of legal title. The problem was particularly acute in Native relations with the English who, unlike the French, increased exponentially in population and sought more and more land to farm. Deeds of sale, to which chiefs of some Native bands put their marks, were misunderstood on both sides. While the English thought they were gaining permanent and exclusive possession of land that they could pass on to their heirs, most Native people believed that they had merely agreed to share hunting and fishing rights in the deeded area. Misunderstandings were further compounded by Native peoples’ assumption that, in sharing use of the land, the English would also enter into a relationship with that land based on reciprocity and respect for the inherent personhood of the terrain and its creatures. For the English, by contrast, the land was neither sentient nor kin but, rather, a commodity to be turned into profit. Such misunderstandings proved a constant source of friction. Remaining neutral, too, was often difficult. For example, after the British captured New York from the Dutch in 1664, they signed a treaty of trade and alliance with the Mohawks. Subsequently, armed and backed by the British, Mohawks resumed their attacks on the tribes in Maine. Moreover, when colonial governors in Massachusetts could not pay the promised salaries of their militia, they resorted to offering land grants in Maine instead, thus encouraging Eng‑ lish settlement in what the Natives regarded as their territories. For the Penobscots, incursions by the English and raids by the Mohawks became as epidemic as the new diseases. Even so, eager to maintain their trading relationships with both sides, and increasingly dependent on the higher quality trade goods offered by the English, the Penobscots did everything possible to avoid being pulled into a series of six wars (between 1675 and 1759) that were really contests for imperial power between Catholic France and Protestant England played out on American soil.2

10 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

As central players in the Wabanaki Confederacy, the Penobscots participated in more than a dozen treaties with New England’s colonial governments. Still, despite the efforts of the Confederacy, the Penobscots—like most of the remaining tribes in Maine—kept losing both population and territory. By the middle of the eighteenth century, the world of the Penobscots had long been changed forever. Settlers from the British Isles now farmed what had once been hunting grounds. The hogs that the farmers brought with them were allowed to forage at will and regularly rooted out the coastal clam beds, once a staple of the Penobscots’ diet. The felling of the forests and the unrelenting pressure of the fur trade depleted the game on which the Penobscots once depended for food and clothing. The beaver was now close to extinction in Maine. The English even claimed to own age-old fishing grounds. At the same time, the Penobscots’ success in the fur trade had rendered them dependent on the metal and other goods exchanged for pelts: copper and iron cooking pots, hatchets, steel knives, metal needles, European-made clothes, blankets, threads, ribbons, and, of course, muskets, shot, and powder. Some Penobscots had become addicted to the brandy or cheap rum proffered by unscrupulous French and English traders, respectively. In sum, the ecology of their physical environment had been altered radically, and the material culture of the Penobscots bore little resemblance to what it had been only 150 years earlier. Other aspects of Penobscot culture had changed too. Unable to cure European diseases, the traditional shamans and medicine practitioners had gradually lost influence and prestige within the tribe. Because shamans were also often important political leaders, this had the effect of weakening older patterns of decision making and authority. Moreover, like other Eastern Algonquian–speaking tribes in Maine and the Canadian Maritimes, the Penobscots had been converted by itinerant missionary priests and embraced the Catholicism of the French. In the late 1680s, Penobscot elders traveled to Quebec to request that the bishop there assign a priest to live with them and establish a permanent church. As a result, Father Jacques Bigot, a Jesuit previously active in the Saint Lawrence Valley, was sent to set up a mission but was soon replaced by Abbé Louis-Pierre Thury, a graduate of the Quebec seminary who had previously ministered to the Micmacs along the Miramichi River in New Brunswick. With financial backing from the Baron Jean-Vincent d’Abbadie de Saint-



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

11

Castin, a special agent for the French government and a wealthy fur trader who had established his trading post on the eastern shore of Penobscot Bay (now Castine, Maine) and subsequently married the daughter of the powerful Penobscot chief Madockawando, Thury built the first church on Indian Island in 1688. The current Church of St. Anne stands at that same site, making this the oldest continuous site of Catholic worship in New England. Unlike the English, who had made only limited efforts to convert Native peoples, the French priests who accompanied the early traders in the seventeenth century learned Native languages and lived in Native villages. When the French established a seminary in Quebec, they did so with the express purpose of training even more missionary priests to minister to and eventually convert those tribes who were already—or might become—tied to the French through trade. The British viewed this as a threat to their claim to their territory in Maine and to their trading relationships with the Maine tribes, which may explain why British troops often targeted Native villages with a church and a resident priest. The Penobscot village on Indian Island, including the church, was burned to the ground by British troops in 1723 (although the priest was not then in residence). The next year, the British burned the Norridgewock village on the Kennebec River. The Jesuit priest, Father Sebastian Rasle, was scalped and killed during the massacre. One of the few Native survivors, afterwards called Half-Arm Nicola, managed to save the church’s iron cross, fleeing with it to Indian Island (where it was kept and installed in later rebuildings of St. Anne’s Church in 1798 and 1878). The attacks of 1723 and 1724 were painful episodes in a larger conflict often called Dummer’s War (1721–25), out of which the Penobscots emerged as the military and diplomatic leader of the Maine tribes.3 Following the end of Dummer’s War, they signed a treaty of peace with the British in 1726, and in 1727 they consolidated most of their remaining population at Penawabskik, their principal village near present-day Old Town. In 1727, the British forced the departure of the Penobscots’ pastor, Father Étienne Lauverjat, leaving them without a priest. Even so, several interludes of relative peace followed, with the Penobscots continuing to assert their neutrality in the ongoing conflict between France and England. In fact, in the final contest between the two European powers for control of parts of Maine and all of Canada, the Penobscots asserted their neutrality as long as they

12 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

could. But the British wouldn’t allow them to remain neutral. They insisted that the Penobscots take up arms and fight against the other Wabanaki tribes who had sided with the French. If the Penobscots refused, the British threatened to cut off all further trade with them, trade upon which the Penobscots depended for everything from food supplies to muskets and shot. Still, the Penobscots refused to take sides, and the English continued to pressure and insult them. In 1755, for example, the Penobscots learned of the unprovoked ambush of a dozen Penobscots at Owl’s Head (near present-day Rockland) by local British militia. The massacre at Owl’s Head killed every Penobscot there, even a woman and an infant. On a charge of “felonious murder,” the militia leader served only a year in jail. And the British offered no compensation to the victims’ families as was the Indian custom. These and other provocations led many (but hardly all) Penobscot bands finally to unite with other Wabanaki communities and side with the French. They thus joined a new, larger federation of Catholic Indians that allied most of the Wabanaki Confederacy with tribes from New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and, most especially, with France’s mission villages along the Saint Lawrence, often called the Seven Nations of Canada. These included, among others, the Huron, Ottawa, Montagnais-Naskapi, Algonquin, and a splinter group of Mohawks (originally from upstate New York) who had relocated to the mission village of Caughnawaga and been converted to Catholicism by the French. In response to several Penobscot bands’ siding with the French, on November 3, 1755, Spencer Phips, Lieutenant Governor and Commander in Chief of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, officially declared “the Penobscot tribe of Indians to be enemies, rebels, and traitors” and required all “his majesty’s subjects” in Massachusetts “to embrace all opportunities of pursuing, captivating, killing and destroying all and every of the aforesaid Indians.” Clearly, the goal was extermination. In order to better effect that end, a generous bounty was promised for every Penobscot captured and “brought to Boston” as well as “for every scalp of such female Indian or male Indian under the age of twelve years, that shall be killed and brought in as evidence of their being killed.”4 Phips’s proclamation was just one more brutal salvo in what has come to be known as the French and Indian Wars in America, a counterpart of the Seven Years’ War in Europe. Determined on victory, the British kept targeting their most



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

13

formidable opponent in Maine and, seven months after Phips’s initial proclamation, the House of Representatives in Boston voted to raise the bounty price for Penobscot scalps to the unprecedented sum of £300. As events turned out, the Penobscots were on the losing side. In 1759, under General James Wolfe, British troops defeated the French at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, near Quebec; and Quebec surrendered to the British. The next year, 1760, the British captured Montreal, and the French Governor of Canada surrendered the entire province to the British. The Treaty of Paris, signed in 1763, officially ended the French and Indian Wars, with France ceding to Great Britain all its territories east of the Mississippi River. The tribes who had sided with the French were now wholly under British control. Lands that had once been protected for them by the French were in English hands, and in Maine that meant even more English settlements, especially in the areas east of the Penobscot River. The population of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, which now included all of Maine, totaled 236,000, including 5,214 free blacks, and was growing rapidly. The Penobscots numbered only 200. If they were to survive, they needed a secure land base. Thus, according to the English transcript of the proceedings, in July 1769, a small delegation of Penobscots went to Boston to petition the governor and council for permanent title to “a tract of land assigned us . . . and our posterity.” What they were seeking was “a sufficiency of land assigned us, for our use only, to hunt in.” Without this, they made clear, “we and our wives and our children must perish.” They also requested “a priest . . . to reside among us.”5 After acknowledging that they had been conquered and were presently subjects of “that great King George,” the Penobscots received a strip of land “six miles in length on each side of ” their village at Passadumkeag on the eastern bank of the Penobscot River and an additional “six miles back in the country” (that is, farther into the interior where the English had not yet begun settlements). While the Penobscot emissaries had little choice but to accept these arrangements, they never suggested that they accepted England’s right to assign or dispose of their traditional homelands. “The land which we now possess was in possession of our fathers from the beginning of time,” they insisted. But not for long did members of the Penobscot Nation remain subjects of “that great King George.” Instead, they joined the American

14 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

Revolution. A contingent of Penobscot leaders traveled to Massachusetts in 1775 and offered their tribe’s alliance to the new Provincial Congress of Massachusetts if, in the words of Chief Joseph Orono, “the grievances, under which our people labor, were removed.” Most prominently, those grievances included the steady stream of new British settlers in Maine, even in lands supposedly assigned to the Penobscots in the treaty of 1769, and the constant cheating of the Indians by traders. The Penobscots also again asked that a Catholic priest be made available to them. Eager to keep the Maine Indians on their side, the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts, then meeting in Watertown just outside of Boston, passed a resolution restoring millions of acres to Penobscot control, forbidding all trespassing on Penobscot lands, and assigned a militia captain to act as an Indian agent and establish a commissary to supply needed food and clothing to the Indians at a fair price. The agent would keep local settlers from molesting the Indians or poaching on their lands and, in return, the Penobscots promised not to attack any existing settlements in their region. Although Massachusetts largely failed to protect or provision the Penobscots as promised, nonetheless, in the years following the signing of the treaty at Watertown, members of the Penobscot Nation served as scouts, hunters, messengers, and warriors in George Washington’s army (along with Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Maliseet men). In August 1777, together with some local non-Native volunteers, a small group of Penobscots, Passamaquoddies, and Maliseets repelled an attack by four British naval vessels at Machias and thereafter continued to be instrumental in holding the territory east of the Penobscot for the Americans. After the battle at Machias, Continental Army officers reported that “none deserve greater applause than our Indian Friends. . . . [N]o person behaved more gallantly, exposing themselves openly to the fire of the cannon and small arms.” Unquestionably, Penobscot actions were motivated not just by their longtime distrust of the British or by the apparent responsiveness of the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts. They were surely also motivated by the fact that the French, their old friends and allies, were said to be supporting the American revolutionaries. Indeed, the French consul in Rhode Island helped to locate a French priest who then lived among the Penobscots from 1780 to 1784, his salary paid



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

15

(albeit sometimes reluctantly) by the Massachusetts provincial government. During the years of the Revolutionary War, Penobscot Chief Joseph Orono proclaimed Penobscot warriors “Sons of Liberty.” Yet what followed the September 3, 1783, signing of the Treaty of Paris between the British and the rebellious Americans proved only disappointing. Once vital allies in the conflict, Native peoples were never consulted about the terms for peace, nor were their interests represented in the negotiations. In consequence, international boundaries were established that simply bifurcated several tribes (especially the Micmacs and Maliseets) and altogether ignored the cohesiveness of the Wabanaki Confederacy. While the Penobscots were awarded some back pay and pensions for their soldiers and war widows, as well as given some guarantees of continued trade with and trade goods from Massachusetts, they could not get the state to live up to its prewar promises to protect Penobscot lands and tribal members. Neither the impoverished fledgling nation nor the new Commonwealth of Massachusetts had resources, or the inclination to expend resources, on protecting a people whom most Euroamericans viewed either as an impediment to white settlement or as a throwback to some earlier stage of human development, certain ultimately to become extinct. Moreover, Massachusetts needed to sell any available vacant lands in order to pay off the enormous war debts it had incurred during the Revolution. And for that purpose the Commonwealth viewed Maine as a potential source of income. For all practical purposes, the 1775 Treaty of Watertown, which recognized the Penobscot Nation’s sovereign rights to vast acreage east and west of the Penobscot River as far north as it flowed, was observed only in the breach. Within just a few years of the end of the Revolutionary War, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts began pressuring the Penobscots to sell their lands (which would then be opened for white settlement). For years the Penobscots resisted. But reduced in population, chronically poor, and still subject to foreign diseases, in 1796 they reluctantly signed away to Massachusetts significant landholdings in exchange for promises of trade goods like food, blankets, guns, flint, and shot. Thereafter, the state went after most of their remaining lands, except for their islands in the Penobscot River. As it turned out, the Massachusetts land grab proved illegal be-

16 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

cause it abrogated the federal Trade and Intercourse Act of 1790, which prohibited Native lands from being sold or transferred to non-Natives unless “duly executed at some public treaty, held under the . . . authority of the United States.” In other words, without federal approval, Indian lands could not be sold or transferred to nonIndians. Massachusetts had never submitted the 1796 treaty (or any subsequent treaties) with the Penobscots for Congressional approval. Only in the late twentieth century would this omission have significant repercussions. In the late eighteenth century, however, nothing was done to reverse matters because of the Indians’ lack of political influence and Euroamericans’ attitudes toward land use. The Wabanaki Confederacy, once a powerful political and military force, had effectively been eviscerated by the international boundary that now separated British Canada from the new United States of America, thereby rendering cross-border alliances almost impossible and certainly irrelevant politically. Equally important, in the eyes of most Euroamericans, Indian lands were vacant or unused both because the large populations that had once inhabited those lands were now gone and because Native peoples did not transform the landscape into such familiar features of European civilization as cities, towns, farms, mills, and places of manufacturing. To the growing middle-class and increasingly urbanized population of the new nation, hunting was a recreation, not the basis of a hunting and gathering subsistence economy. To put it another way, the white citizenry of the United States had little interest in understanding (let alone protecting) indigenous cultures and generally believed that Euroamericans had a right to the land because, unlike the Natives, they improved it and turned it into portable wealth. Accordingly, they also believed that, in order to survive, the Indians would have to assimilate and become (as the Euroamericans understood the word) civilized. In the nineteenth century, therefore, the great challenge facing Native peoples was their preservation as sovereign nations with distinct and different cultures. In dealing with that challenge, the Penobscots enjoyed one small advantage. Although most of what had once been their homelands was now owned by Euroamericans, they still retained several islands in the Penobscot River and remained surrounded by a landscape that was everywhere associated with their ancestors, their spiritual life, their history, and their old stories. Should they begin to forget, the



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

17

land and the river were ever-present reminders of who they were and who they had once been. Additionally, their relative isolation in their main village on Indian Island allowed for some continuity of traditional practices and beliefs, without constant intrusions from outsiders. The only outsiders genuinely welcomed among them were the several priests who, from 1789 on, once again lived among and ministered to the tribes in Maine. In 1804, the priest then in residence in Maine, James Romagne, inoculated both the Penobscots and the Passamaquoddies against smallpox, which saved many of them from further depredations by that disease. After Maine was partitioned off from Massachusetts and became a separate state in 1820, nothing really changed for the Penobscots. Long accustomed to sending representatives to the General Court of Massachusetts in Boston, the Penobscots now sent representatives to the Maine State Legislature in Augusta. These representatives were seated in the state’s House of Representatives and permitted to address the legislature but, as in Massachusetts, they had no vote, even in matters directly affecting tribal affairs. More consequential, monies from the sales of their lands and timber were still held by a state treasury, their trust funds having simply been transferred from the control of Massachusetts to the control of Maine. Now it was the governor and council of Maine who determined (in the words of a Maine statute of 1826) when and why, “in their opinion, the situation of the said tribe requires [the appropriation of tribal funds held in trust] for their benefit.” If the tribe wanted monies to pay for something the tribe deemed of benefit to its members, the statute required the Penobscots to petition the governor and council, through the stateappointed Indian agent, for the distribution of its own trust funds. In short, in political matters, a continuing reluctance to acknowledge Penobscot sovereignty, combined with a demeaning paternalism that made them legally wards of the state, characterized Maine’s dealings with its tribal peoples. In 1824, a decision in the Maine Supreme Court put the matter quite bluntly, even justifying the state’s abrogation of Indians’ fundamental civil rights: “[I]mbecility on their part and the dictates of humanity on ours, have necessarily prescribed to them their subjugation to our paternal control; in disregard of some, at least, of abstract principles of the rights of man.” Following what was then national Indian policy, the state of Maine repeatedly pressured the Penobscots to give up more land, to take

18 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

up agriculture in place of hunting and trapping, to convert from Catholicism to Protestantism, and to switch from the Penobscot language to English. Always ready to adopt or adapt what they needed from Euroamerican society, throughout the nineteenth century the Penobscots also tried to hold fast to at least some of their own lifeways and belief structures. They even tried to persuade the state to follow their example of resource management. In 1823, in the first of many such petitions to the governor and council, the Penobscots noted that “in years past the beasts of the forest, Moose and Deer, were very plenty about the head branches of the Penobscot and Kennebeck Rivers, [but] in consequence of the white people killing them off merely for the sake of their skins, they have now become nearly extinct.” For their part, they explained, the Penobscots “have come to a conclusion to kill no more of the aforesaid game, Moose and Deer, at present.” They then asked “whether it will not be prudent on the part of the government to pass an act in like manner prohibiting the white people from killing those beasts in future.” Although the petition offered a reasonable approach to sustaining the largegame populations in Maine, it was entirely ignored—as were many subsequent petitions concerning the adverse effects on fish stocks of commercial fisheries and dam construction on the Penobscot River. Repeatedly frustrated by these rebuffs, the tribe did what it could on its own to protect the physical environment upon which its members still so much depended. As much as possible, the tribe stubbornly retained its remaining lands but asserted the right—on its own and without any Indian agent’s approval—to sell timber or to negotiate land sales with speculators when required. Trapping, hunting, fishing, and gathering still supplied vital sustenance. Several families took up farming or utilized a state-sponsored farmer to grow various crops on their lands but, for the most part, adult men continued to hunt and trade in furs for the major part of their income. Some men found work in Maine’s booming lumber industry, although, because of local racist attitudes, too often they received substandard wages. Penobscot men were also employed as guides and trackers by non-Natives, especially by visitors from the cities seeking a wilderness experience. The most famous of these out-of-state visitors was the author Henry David Thoreau who visited Maine in 1846, 1853, and again in 1857, later writing about each trip. On the first visit, he climbed Mount Katahdin with friends



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

19

(but without a Native guide). In 1853, he employed Penobscot guide Joseph Aitteon to take him to Chesuncook Lake, and in 1857, Thoreau hired Joseph Polis to guide him to the Allagash Lakes and then back to Old Town along the East Branch of the Penobscot River. As railway lines expanded and Maine increasingly became a locus for summer camps and tourism during the second half of the nineteenth century, Penobscot men, women, and children alike made canoes, baskets, snowshoes, and moccasins for the tourist trade and offered performances of traditional songs and dances at the new resorts. During the Civil War, twenty-seven young Penobscot men joined up with a Maine regiment and fought in the Union Army.6 After the Civil War, a few small textile mills and shoe manufacturing plants opened in Maine, but, again because of prejudice, Native peoples only rarely found work there, although some did. The lumber and fishing industries, sawmills, railroads, and even steamboats provided employment for others. From the trust fund monies that were owed the Penobscots for the purchases of their tribal lands, or for the rent and leasing of their remaining lands, Maine doled out small sums for the tribe’s needs. What was income thus took on the appearance of welfare. These monies paid for goods like flour, guns, and clothing, as specified by treaty. The trust monies were also used to pay the salaries of a priest and a doctor (both of whom also served the Passamaquoddies), to pay for tribal representatives’ travel to meetings of the legislature, and, on occasion, to pay for Penobscot children’s instruction in local public schools. In 1878, nuns from the Catholic order, the Sisters of Mercy, arrived on Indian Island and established the island’s first and only elementary school, with instruction exclusively in English, as required by the state (although the catechism was taught in the Penobscot language). The legacy of over two hundred years of invasions and colonialism had effectively fractured what were once cohesive and coherent Native societies. By the nineteenth century, many Native tribes were split into competing factions, divided over what constituted their traditions and unsure of how to respond to the many different concepts of modernity being urged on them. The Penobscots were no different. From the 1830s on, their villages were wrenched by divisiveness and factionalism. The issues were many and complex, changing over time, but repeatedly aggravated by dissatisfactions with the actions

20 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

of priests (who were seen to be meddling in tribal political affairs) and with the actions of the state-appointed Indian agents (who, for example, leased tribal fisheries without tribal consent). There were disagreements over where and how to educate the Nation’s children. Should they attend parochial schools or local public schools; or should they be sent to residential boarding schools like the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania? And should they be taught exclusively in English, forced to lose their language and their culture, or was there some means of instructing them in both English and Penobscot? Different families variously advocated all of these positions. Between 1879 and 1918, some forty Penobscot children went off to Carlisle, Pennsylvania, while most continued to attend the school run by the Sisters of Mercy on Indian Island or (in rare instances) local public schools. With some tribal members having converted to Protestantism, while others steadfastly rejected any white man’s religion, and still others held fast to Catholicism, religious differences became both personal and political, and these differences inevitably entered the debates over schooling. At the same time, some groups petitioned the state of Maine for full rights as U.S. citizens, while others strenuously opposed this course of action as a weakening of Penobscot sovereignty and a potential threat to the tax-exempt status of tribal lands. Finally, there were deep divisions over whether the Penobscots should continue to be governed by hereditary lifetime chiefs or by elected leaders. Competing coalitions developed around this and other issues: the Old Party (favoring both hereditary chiefs and public schooling), the party to which Joseph Nicolar belonged; the New Party (favoring elected leaders and Catholic schooling); and, fitting comfortably into neither party, a third faction called the “third party” or the “outsiders.” When the Penobscots themselves could not come to any consensus over leadership, the state intervened in 1867 and legislated procedures for annual elections. This had the effect of altogether destabilizing leadership authority because the state mandated that only one party could field candidates each year and that the Old Party and New Party had to alternate every year. In the end, this proved unworkable, and the law governing elections changed these procedures. One thing the different factions eventually agreed on was that state trust fund payouts should no longer be disbursed solely as trade goods—like blankets or bolts of colored cloth—as negotiated



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

21

in treaties a hundred or more years earlier. The Penobscots were now demanding payments in money rather than goods alone. They also agreed to have the state survey their lands and allot individual plots to individual families. Unlike the later allotment process in the western territories under the 1887 Dawes Act, Penobscot allotments could not be sold or otherwise conveyed except to tribal members. In short, by the end of the nineteenth century, the Penobscots could see even more changes in their lifeways. As opposed to the wigwams of past generations, Penobscot families now lived in framed wooden houses with garden or vegetable plots; individuals wore store-bought clothing, used manufactured tools and utensils, and found themselves in a market and wage economy. Altogether, however, the nineteenth century was a century of steady decline for the Penobscot Nation. The 250 sawmills along the Penobscot River were mostly run by waterpower from dams—dams that blocked the spawning migrations of fish species upon which the Penobscots still depended for food. Their villages were plagued by endemic poverty, and even though smallpox had almost been eradicated, repeated outbreaks of cholera, influenza, and tuberculosis felled many. Entire families left due to the factional disputes or to seek work elsewhere and, between out-migration and recurrent outbreaks of disease, the Penobscot population in Maine numbered only 400 in 1890. Despite all this, at that same transition point, Penobscots adopted the non-Indian sport of baseball and produced championship teams. One stellar player, Louis Francis Sockalexis, went from his boyhood team on Indian Island to a college career at Holy Cross and then Notre Dame, followed by a career in the major leagues with a team then called the Cleveland Spiders. His first time at bat, the crowd jeered and taunted the Indian player. Sockalexis hit the ball out of the park, and during his first pro season, in 1897, he stole 16 bases in 66 games and hit .338. By the end of the season, the weekly Sporting News called him “the most popular player in the league.” Two years after his death from a sudden heart attack in 1913, the Cleveland Spiders were renamed the Cleveland Indians, expressly to honor the man most people believe to have been the first Native American to play in the majors.7 But national recognition of a sports hero did not alter the impoverished living conditions of his people or their political disenfranchisement. Poor living conditions derived from the chronic underemploy-

22 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

ment of Native peoples in Maine. But they also derived from the fact that, as putatively sovereign nations and as wards of the state, the tribes in Maine did not pay property taxes on their reservation lands (though they paid other kinds of taxes). As a result, neither the counties nor the state legislature felt any obligation to provide tribal communities with services normally paid for by such taxes—like fire departments, police protection, roads, and sewage and water systems. Some of these services—most prominently fire and police departments—the tribes paid for themselves, when they could, using their trust monies. But other basic necessities were simply out of reach. Thus, Penobscot men who had joined the armed forces during World War I returned to often deplorable conditions. Indian Island, for example, did not have a sewage system, and some of the sources of drinking water were contaminated. Yet, despite years of pleas from the Penobscots for the amelioration of these conditions, and for a resident nurse for the tribe, nothing had been done. Furthermore, chronic unemployment was being exacerbated by the fact that the state now required $1.15 annually for a license to hunt or fish, while a trapper’s license could cost as much as ten dollars. Unable to afford such fees, many Penobscots were cut off from their ancient sources of subsistence or were forced to break the law just to survive. Then in 1924, when the federal government granted U.S. citizenship to all Indians throughout the country, tribal members in Maine found that, because of their legal status as wards of the state, they enjoyed a few limited voting privileges in state elections but were not permitted to register to vote in federal elections, not even if they were veterans. The Great Depression that followed the stock market crash of 1929 only made matters worse. Tourism dried up, and many resorts closed. Factories and mills throughout Maine shut down altogether or laid off segments of their workforce. These factors, combined with habitual discrimination against Indians, meant that the Penobscots now confronted even fewer opportunities to make a living and feed their families. After the election of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1932, however, several federal relief programs were initiated that benefited many of the country’s poor and unemployed, including the Penobscots. The Works Project Administration—or WPA as it came to be known—one of Roosevelt’s many “New Deal” relief programs, provided modest food allowances, especially for schoolchildren and the elderly. In 1933 state authorities finally condemned the drinking



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

23

water as unsafe. Shortly thereafter, the WPA embarked on a massive rural electrification project across the country, bringing electricity to rural Maine and, with that, electricity and city water to Indian Island. About thirty Indian Island men were employed directly by the WPA in these and other projects, like the paving of some roads on the island and the installation of a few street lights. In 1936, in concert with the WPA, the state of Maine finally built a sewage system for the island. The state had rescinded the hunting and fishing license fees for Native peoples the previous year. Equally important to the Penobscots during the bleak years of the Great Depression were the activities of several enterprising Penobscot women. Under the leadership of two of Joseph Nicolar’s daughters, Lucy Nicolar Poolaw and Florence Nicola Shay, and Florence’s sister-in-law Pauline Shay, the Indian Women’s Club on Indian Island was revived (after a brief period of dormancy) and immediately pushed for legislation to allow Penobscot children from Indian Island to enroll in the public elementary schools in Old Town, just across the river. Some years later, these women also brought a Baptist Church to the island and, to give the children additional educational opportunities, a Baptist-sponsored elementary school. In their view, more Penobscot children needed to graduate from high school and go on to college. These same women helped the tribe to revive some of the old ceremonial dances and, with the cooperation of the Old Town Chamber of Commerce, they sponsored public pageants and other performances that, throughout the 1930s, brought at least a few tourist dollars to the Yankee businesses in Old Town and to the Native performers and crafts workers from Indian Island. World War II was a key turning point. During the course of the war, more than eighty young Penobscot men and women joined the military, many serving abroad, while more mature men and women migrated to Connecticut to seek employment in the wartime industries there.8 Yet many Penobscot tribal members protested what they saw as an insupportable indignity in 1941, when the state of Maine revoked the right of elected tribal representatives to take seats—as they had been doing since 1820—on the floor of the state’s House of Representatives. Instead, they were now forced to stand behind the glass partition at the back of the chamber, along with lobbyists, reporters, and other onlookers. Florence Nicola Shay, who in 1933 had self-published a short pamphlet entitled History of the Penobscot

24 Su mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

Tribe of Indians, reissued an expanded version of her History in 1942 in which she complained that the tribe’s elected representative “was merely recognized as a ‘visitor.’ ” In letters to various state and federal officials, copies of which she included in the 1942 publication, Shay catalogued a host of problems: traditional skills were not being passed on; because of education in white schools, the children were losing their Native language and culture; too many Penobscot children dropped out of high school because of “inferiority complexes”; and Indian agents were either out of reach when needed or inattentive to community needs. But, as Shay put it, the real heart of the problem was this: “I have four sons and I feel the government has not the right to draft my boys without giving us the right to vote. . . . We are a segregated, alienated people and many of us are beginning to feel the weight of the heel that is crushing us to nothingness.” What her people most needed now, she made clear, were educational opportunities and full citizenship rights. These and similar sentiments were soon being expressed by many Native American soldiers returning from tours of duty abroad. They had seen the world, been better treated on foreign shores, and were now aware that the U.S. Marshall Plan was rebuilding the destroyed infrastructures of both allies and those who had previously been enemy nations. Yet Indian veterans coming home encountered blighted reservations, the old prejudices and discrimination, and limited job opportunities on and around the reservations. In Maine, Penobscot veterans returned to run-down and insufficient housing on Indian Island. They could not get small business loans. And jobs for garbage collectors on the reservation were being given by the county to non-Indians. There wasn’t even a bridge across the Penobscot River to connect the island with the townships on its banks. In order to get back and forth, Indian Island residents still used their own canoes or depended on their only ferry, an open fourteen-foot rowed bateau. During the hard freeze of the winter months, a pathway of sawdust was spread across the ice. But in all seasons these methods of crossing the river could prove perilous, owing to log jams, sudden freezes and thaws, running ice, and shifting currents and water levels. Over the years, there had been drownings. The lack of a bridge thwarted children’s efforts regularly to attend schools in Old Town and thwarted adults’ efforts to live on the reservation and work on the mainland. Not that work was easy to find. Despite the economic

Indian Landing and Indian Island from Old Town, Maine, in the log drive era

The Indian Island School in 1910

Sawdust pathway across the Penobscot River, ca. 1940s

Bridge construction across the Penobscot River, completed in 1950



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

27

recovery following the war years, local prejudice against Indians continued to make it difficult for them to find work in nearby towns and cities. And for a time, the Penobscots still couldn’t vote in Maine. In despair, anger, and frustration, some returning veterans found solace in alcohol. More left the state to find work elsewhere, precipitating another significant out-migration. And others worked with the tribal government and with the indomitable members of the Indian Island Women’s Club to make things better. As a result, in 1949 the state began construction of a single-lane bridge linking Indian Island to the mainland at Old Town. The bridge opened in 1950. In 1953 the lobbying of Native veterans and tribal governments at last forced Maine to amend its voting law to allow Native peoples to register to vote in federal elections with the 1954 electoral cycle. In 1967 they were permitted to vote in additional state and local elections.9 A younger generation both contributed to and was energized by the various civil rights and social justice movements of the 1960s and 1970s, including the American Indian Movement (AIM) founded in Minneapolis in 1968. The pan-tribal consciousness of what was then called Red Power brought several Penobscots to The Trail of Broken Treaties march on Washington, D.C., in 1972 and to the protests at Wounded Knee, South Dakota, in 1973. On Indian Island, activism took many forms. Several members of the tribe joined forces with Passamaquoddy leaders to apply for federal grants to improve living conditions on the reservations of both tribes. In addition, they successfully advocated for federal recognition of the two tribes. In March 1976, the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) formally granted federal status to the Penobscots and Passamaquoddies, thereby—for the first time—making them eligible to receive a variety of BIA services and to apply for BIA grants. Working closely with the elected tribal governors and councils, these activists pulled together the wisdom and local knowledge of tribal elders and the political skills of the tribe’s recent college graduates to effect significant improvements in everything from housing and health care to the replacement of aging water and sewer lines. At the same time, responding to AIM’s emphasis on political activism coupled with the renewal of traditional cultural and spiritual practices, many Penobscots turned to elders in order to learn and revive old stories, ceremonies, medicine lore, woodcarving, and the Penobscot language itself. The Wabanaki Confederacy was reconstituted, enhancing political cooperation as well as joint cultural

28 Su mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

activities between the four remaining organized tribes in Maine—the Penobscot Nation, the Passamaquoddy Tribe, the Houlton Band of Maliseets, the Aroostook Band of Micmacs—and the communities of Maliseets and Micmacs in Canada. New practices were introduced, too, like the annual 100-mile run up Mount Katahdin, initiated in the 1980s. Unquestionably the most dramatic achievement of the 1970s activists, however, was pursuing the tortuous path to filing what came to be known as the Maine Indian Land Claims suit on July 17, 1972. In brief, the suit generally argued that the State of Maine had broken many treaty promises to protect tribal lands in perpetuity. More specifically, it argued that the federal Trade and Intercourse Act of 1790 superseded and rendered illegal any subsequent transfers of land from the tribes to the state that had not received congressional approval. This meant that both the 1794 and 1796 treaties between the Penobscots and Massachusetts were invalid and that the only legal treaty still in force was that signed in Watertown on June 21, 1775, at the outset of the American Revolution, in which the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts had recognized the Penobscots’ title to lands from the “Head of the Tide on the Penobscot River,” around Old Town, “extending six miles on each side of said river” as far north as it flowed. The treaty also gave the Penobscots all the islands in the river, from Bangor north to the river’s headwaters. Further, the 1972 suit insisted, the terms of the 1775 Watertown treaty were binding even when the wardship of the Penobscots was transferred from Massachusetts to Maine in 1820. Despite years of frustrating legal setbacks, and anger and resentment from non-Native Maine residents who feared losing title to their own properties, the tribes persevered. Finally, in 1980, an $81.5 million joint tribal settlement was negotiated and subsequently approved by the three tribes involved in the suit and by votes in both chambers of the Maine State Legislature and in the U.S. House and Senate. Ninety percent of the settlement was divided equally between the Penobscots and Passamaquoddies, while the Houlton Band of Maliseets (who had joined the suit later) received ten percent of the settlement and, at last, federal recognition. A certain portion of the settlement was set aside for the purchase of 300,000 acres of land at fair market value: $26.8 million each for the Penobscots and Passamaquoddies and another $900,000 for the Houlton Band of Mali-



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

29

seets. The purchased lands are held in trust by the federal government. Additionally, $27 million went into trust funds shared equally by the Penobscots and Passamaquoddies but held in trust for them by the federal government and invested by the Secretary of the Interior with the two tribes’ concurrence. Of that, each tribe elected to restrict $1 million exclusively for the care and maintenance of senior citizens. The tax-free income generated by the invested trust monies is distributed quarterly to the two tribes. (Since then, the Aroostook Band of Micmacs was federally recognized in 1991, after suing for their own land claims, and also received $900,000 for the purchase of land.) With no little fanfare, President Jimmy Carter signed the Maine Indian Land Claims bill into law on October 10, 1980, using an eagle feather quill pen. Two months later, on December 12, 1980, he signed the all-important $81.5 million appropriations bill. Even so, legal landmark though it was, the Maine Indian Land Claims settlement left many things un settled and disappointed many tribal members. Most crucially, by equating the tribes with municipalities, the language of the law further confused the issue of tribal sovereignty and the tribes’ rights to control their lands, their monies, and generally determine their own futures. Equally disappointing was the fact that the tribes did not recover the specific lands for which they had sued, that is, those traditional homelands supposedly protected by treaty. Instead, they relinquished their claims to 12.5 million acres in Maine in exchange for the right to purchase 300,000 acres of trust lands. Moreover, the financial settlement did not come close to reimbursing them for the fair market value of their lost lands or for the interest they should have received on the value of the lands so long taken from them illegally. These and other shortcomings and omissions in the settlement are now the substance of the challenges that face the Penobscots in the twenty-first century. In pursuit of further economic development, the Penobscots joined with the Passamaquoddies in an effort to introduce Indian-managed gaming to southern Maine. Currently, about one-third of the 560 federally recognized Native American communities in the United States earn income from some sort of gaming enterprise (including resort-casinos, freestanding casinos, or racetracks with areas for slot machines, nicknamed racinos). The Penobscots and Passamaquoddies view this as one more means of providing them, too, with im-

30 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

proved housing, healthcare, and employment opportunities for their people. Coincidentally, they point out, as in other states, a casino or racino could contribute to Maine’s economy. But all other federally recognized tribes built their gaming establishments under the auspices of the 1988 federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act (IGRA). So far, the Penobscots and Passamaquoddies have been barred from following this precedent. The problem arises from the language of the 1980 Maine Indian Land Claims Settlement Act. The courts have ruled that this act supersedes the federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act. Because the tribes are characterized as municipalities in the Settlement Act, the Maine tribes have been unable to bring the governor or the state legislature into negotiations with them for a gaming compact, as do other tribes under current federal law.10 In the view of the tribes, this interpretation of the Settlement Act’s language unfairly erodes their status as sovereign entities. After two successive governors openly opposed the idea of an Indian-run casino and refused to enter into compact negotiations with the tribes “in good faith,” as required by the federal law, the Penobscots and Passamaquoddies put the matter before the voters. But to their deep disappointment, a statewide referendum on Indian gaming was defeated in November 2003. The Penobscots have another, even more urgent reason for insisting that they not be subject to the same laws that govern municipalities. Having used some of the Land Claims Settlement monies to establish their own Department of Natural Resources, the Penobscots implemented a Water Resources Program that (with help from the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency) has consistently documented toxic levels of contaminants in the Penobscot River. The flow of untreated discharge from tanneries and from pulp and paper mills along the river has polluted both the water and the fish. Especially dangerous are the high levels of dioxin, a byproduct of the chlorine bleaching process employed by the paper mills to produce white paper. The dioxin has gotten into the food chain, making the remaining fish in the river unsafe to eat and adversely impacting the eagle populations along the river’s banks. As a result of this toxic mix of chemicals, the Penobscots themselves suffer from abnormally high rates of cancer and liver diseases. Hydroelectric dams have also killed off many fish species by raising the river’s water temperature and, more disastrously, by blocking age-old spawning migrations. The Atlantic



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

31

salmon, once abundant in the river, is now severely threatened. Thus, due both to pollution and to the disappearance of fish species, the Penobscot Nation’s fishing rights on the river—rights reiterated in the Land Claims Settlement Act—seemed only meaningless words on paper. And were the Penobscots to be bound by the same laws as Maine’s municipalities, they feared that they would not have sufficient jurisdiction to clean up their beloved river. The matter came to a head in December 2003 when, under the administration of President George Walker Bush, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency reversed an earlier decision and turned over responsibility for the monitoring and control of pollution in Maine’s rivers to the state’s Department of Environmental Protection. The tribes viewed this as a victory for the paper companies because of the considerable political influence wielded by those companies within the state. Undaunted, however, the Penobscot Nation continues to assert its authority to protect the river and, as part of a broader coalition of tribes, environmental groups, and state and federal agencies, the Nation continues to pressure the paper companies to switch to newer non-polluting technologies that do not require chlorine in the bleaching process. The Penobscot River Restoration Project demonstrates that such coalitions can be successful. During most of 2003, negotiators from the Penobscot Nation, American Rivers, the Atlantic Salmon Federation, Trout Unlimited, the Natural Resources Council of Maine, the Maine Audubon Society, and several state and federal agencies worked with one of the state’s largest hydroelectric companies to hammer out an agreement to dismantle two dams on the lower Penobscot River. Expected to begin in 2008 or 2009, the removal of the two dams will allow Atlantic salmon and a variety of other migratory fish species to travel north up the Penobscot River and into its tributaries. It is hoped that these new fish stocks migrating into the river from the sea will provide a food source safer than the dioxin-laden fish currently available. Today the Penobscot Nation numbers about 2,300 members, almost 500 of whom live on Indian Island. There are 4,866 acres of reservation land, over 60,700 more acres of trust lands, and another 53,276 acres of land that the Nation owns in fee-simple. The reservation itself is comprised of Indian Island and all the islands in the Penobscot River north of it. The Penobscot people are employed in

32 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion

business, industry, and all the professions, both within Maine and in other states. For tribal members who seek to live on or near their reservation lands, however, there is a persistent problem of underemployment, depressed wage levels, and lingering prejudice against Indians. The Nation is governed by a twelve-member elected Tribal Council and by a Chief and sub-Chief elected every two years. The Nation also still elects one non-voting representative to the Maine State Legislature; and that representative is once again permitted to be seated on the floor of the state’s House of Representatives. Tribal offices are located on Indian Island. The elementary school once run by the Sisters of Mercy still stands and until 2005 housed the offices of the Tribal Historian and the Department of Historical and Cultural Preservation (both of which have since moved to newer quarters). The Indian Island School, a public school for kindergarten through eighth grade, offers a cultural class with instruction by tribal members in traditional crafts, cultural heritage, and the Penobscot language. Drumming, singing, and dance traditions continue, along with traditional spiritual practices. Penobscot basket makers and woodcarvers have long enjoyed international recognition. Historically a Nation whose warriors helped the United States come into being, the Penobscots are both survivors and adapters, preserving vital traditional practices and value systems while accommodating themselves to the demands of the present moment. Above all, they are warriors still, a proud Nation fighting to protect its sovereignty, its heritage, and its riverine ecosystem.

* Notes * 1  The use of the term ethnic mercenaries here is meant to denote the fact that, over time, the European powers learned that it was far cheaper and more efficient for colonial governments to hire local Indian fighters than to import troops from Europe. 2  These wars were King Philip’s War (1675–78); King William’s War (1688– 99); Queen Anne’s War (1702–13); Dummer’s War (1721–25); King George’s War (1745–48); and the French and Indian War (1755–59). 3  In Dummer’s War, the Penobscots joined with other tribes (including the Pigquacket, Arosagunacook, and Kennebec in the east, as well as several more westerly tribes from Vermont and New Hampshire) in an effort to drive out the English. The conflict was bloody and brutal. The English destroyed many of



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

33

the eastern tribal villages, including most notably the populous Norridgewock village on the Kennebec River. With so many villages of their allies destroyed and so many refugees fleeing to Canada, the Penobscots emerged from Dummer’s War still powerful and “as the pre-eminent spokesmen for all the surviving ‘Wabanaki’ people in New England and the Maritimes” (Snow, “Eastern Abenaki,” 145). 4  According to the ethnohistorian Harald Prins, “scalping was widely practiced by natives in North America before European contact. . . . Although scalping was not practiced in Europe, Europeans did take heads (or tongues, hands, or other body parts) for triumphant display. Furthermore, among Englishmen the practice of paying bounties for heads was well established. . . . During the colonial wars in North America, Europeans began offering bounty for scalps. . . . Commercial scalping became common practice in the summer of 1689 when the Massachusetts government began recruiting Mohawk Indians from New York to take Wabanaki scalps. . . . In reaction, the French Crown offered payment for English scalps. . . . Soon, the gruesome practice became commonplace, and anyone—Indian, French, or English—was eligible to scalp or be scalped” (The Mi’kmaq, 122). 5  Even after Canada fell to the English, the Algonquian tribes in both Maine and Canada who had converted to Catholicism successfully resisted English attempts to re-convert them to Protestantism. Following the Revolutionary War, a 1796 treaty between the tribes of Maine and the new state of Massachusetts (which then included Maine) established the right of the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy tribes to have a resident priest. That priest was now under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of New England rather than the Bishop of Quebec. For further details, see MacDougall, The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 116–17. 6  Joseph Nicolar’s uncle was among the twenty-seven young men, “nearly a quarter of the entire male population,” who fought with the Union Army in the Civil War (see MacDougall, The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 162). Like other veterans, the returning Penobscots (or their widows) received small pensions from the federal government. Eckstorm reports that “at Old Town during the Civil War, my father, who was there, saw men home on furlough in the uniforms of infantry, cavalry and artillery; probably some were in the navy” (Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans, 181). 7  In the 1960s, researchers discovered that James Madison Toy (of mixed Sioux and Euroamerican heritage) was actually the first Native American to play in the majors. Toy played in the American Baseball Association in 1887 and 1890, but there is no evidence that his Indian heritage was known to any of his contemporaries. Louis Francis Sockalexis (1871–1913) began his career as one of the most accomplished collegiate baseball players of his day. Years after his death, when the Holy Cross Athletic Hall of Fame was created in 1956, Sockalexis was the first athlete inducted. Even so, despite a spectacular first year with the Cleveland Spiders, his time in the majors was limited. Spectators rooting for opposing teams often shouted racial slurs, and fans of the Spiders were wont to greet the team with war whoops and imitate war dances. The stress of this kind of treat-

34 S u mm a ry H i st o ry o f th e P enobs cot N at ion ment took its toll, and Sockalexis began drinking again (a problem he’d had in college). During a party in July 1897, an inebriated “Sock” (as sportswriters and teammates called him) fell and severely injured his ankle. He played only sporadically during the next two years, and his last game in the major leagues came in 1899 at the age of 27. Sockalexis subsequently spent some time in the minors, but soon returned to Indian Island where he spent his final years teaching baseball and coaching younger generations of Penobscot boys. In 1985 he was inducted into the Maine Sports Hall of Fame and in April 2000 (along with his second cousin, the 1912 Olympic marathon runner Andrew Sockalexis), he was inducted into the American Indian Athletic Hall of Fame in Tulsa, Oklahoma. 8  According to Eckstorm, in late 1944 “the Bangor newspapers enrolled the names and printed the photographs of ninety-two Penobscot Indians, men and women, who were in uniform, or almost one-sixth of the total population of all ages and both sexes” (Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans, 101). 9  MacDougall notes that Native peoples in Maine “could not vote for local representatives to the state until 1967” (The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 19). 10  The federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act (IGRA) of 1988 affirmed the right of tribes to conduct gaming on Indian lands; but for Class III gaming (which includes slots, casino games, horse and dog racing, parimutuel wagering, and jai alai) the law further requires a tribal ordinance approved by the chairperson of the National Indian Gaming Commission. The Act also requires that any such gaming be conducted in conformance with a tribal–state compact. To effect that end, under IGRA, a tribe must request a state to enter into compact negotiations and, after such a request is made, the state is obligated to negotiate “in good faith” to enter into a compact. Compacts must be approved by the Secretary of the Interior. The tribes in Maine feel that the state has failed to live up to the IGRA requirement for “good faith” negotiations.

Introduction to Joseph Nicolar’s 1893 The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

by A nne tte Ko l o d n y

* 1 *

In 1893, an extraordinary book titled The Life and Traditions of the Red Man appeared from a small printer in Bangor, Maine, authored and self-published by Joseph Nicolar, then the elected representative of the Penobscot Nation to the Maine State Legislature. Identifying himself as “one of the descendents of the remnants of that once numerous and most powerful race,” Nicolar announces in his Preface that he has spent his entire life, “beginning in my early boyhood days,” in “the researches of my people’s past life” (95). As a result, it is only a “red man”—in this case, Nicolar himself—who can “give the public the full account of all the pure traditions which have been handed down from the beginning of the red man’s world to the present time” (Nicolar, 95). The unspoken argument in that statement was about who was to be entrusted as the future custodian of indigenous lore and artifacts. The closing decades of the nineteenth century were a period during which both European and Euroamerican antiquarians, amateur archeologists, folklore anthologists, and practitioners of the new science of ethnography avidly gathered whatever they could from indigenous sources before the ever-vanishing Indian disappeared forever. Because several Maine tribes still lived on remnants of their traditional homelands, speaking their Native language and continuing at least some of their traditional storytelling practices, from the 1870s on, Maine had been of particular interest. Folklore collectors like Charles Godfrey Leland and Abby Langdon Alger had been in the state collecting Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscot tales, while Garrick Mallery of the Smithsonian Institution’s Bureau of Ethnology visited

36 In t ro d u ct ion

repeatedly in order to examine petroglyphs (or rock carvings), interview Native informants, and collect birch-bark pictographic scrolls for the Smithsonian’s National Museum. But for Nicolar, the ways of the Indian were so unique as to be inaccessible to outsiders, spreading a “veil” of obscurity “over the eyes and minds of the learned of these modern dates” (95). In Nicolar’s view, only a true descendant, steeped in the ways of his people, possessed both the knowledge and the right to control the interpretive process through which Indian cultures were invested with meaning. The collecting impulse of late-nineteenth-century ethnographers and folklore specialists was not the only impetus behind Nicolar’s decision to write his own book. Many factors contributed to the urgency of his project. Having served six terms as the Penobscot representative to the Maine State Legislature in Augusta, he was politically astute, widely read, and always abreast of current events.1 Nicolar knew firsthand the growing threats to Native peoples nationwide. In 1871 the U.S. Congress had passed the Indian Appropriation Act, declaring that henceforth no tribe would be recognized as an independent nation with which the federal government “may contract by treaty.”2 Instead, all future Indian policies would be determined not by treaty negotiations between the parties but by the passage of congressional statutes or by presidential executive order. Although all prior treaties remained in force, the language of this Appropriation Act effectively undermined the concept of tribal sovereignty by altogether severing any future formal government-to-government relations between the United States and Indian nations. (This did not significantly affect the Maine tribes, however, because under prior treaty agreements, they remained wards of the state.) The 1887 General Allotment Act, better known as the Dawes Act, further encouraged assimilation by granting private ownership of reservation lands to individual tribal members, along with the right to sell their “allotment” to non-Indians.3 Two years later, Indian Territory in Oklahoma that had once been secured by treaty in perpetuity was opened to white settlement. In 1891, the Sauk, Fox, and Potawatomi tribes were forced to cede their lands in Indian Territory to the federal government, and the lands were then opened to non-Indian settlement by presidential proclamation. As he prepared his manuscript for the Bangor printer in 1893, Nicolar read in the newspapers that Cherokee land between Kansas and Oklahoma—land that had been purchased



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

37

The Penobscot Village at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, 1893

by the federal government for a pittance in 1891—was now also open to white settlement. And even as he completed his work, Nicolar was aware that the newspapers were full of feature stories about the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, the national celebration of the quadricentennial of Columbus’s “discovery” of America. His own people were represented at the Exposition as a living museum piece, one of several traditional tribal villages erected as outdoor “living exhibits” on the shore of the south lagoon, next to the Anthropology Building. In front of the three conical birch-bark wigwams that comprised the Exposition’s Penobscot village, several of his neighbors from the Indian Island reservation were dressed in traditional attire and offered scheduled demonstrations of native crafts, from basket weaving to canoe construction. But as Nicolar was also aware, the opening parade at the dedicatory ceremonies on October 22, 1892, included three companies of boys from the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in central Pennsylvania, “clad in their school uniforms and led by their own brass band” (Litwicki, America’s Public Holidays, 1865–1920, 166). As one reporter described them, these

38 In t ro d u ct ion

were model Indians from “the only place in America where good Indians are really turned out” (quoted in Litwicki 167). The prevailing national view, Nicolar well knew, was that the Indian was either a relic of some earlier stage of human development, bound for extinction, or a people who would have to become thoroughly assimilated—as were the children who attended the Carlisle school—in order to survive.4 Closer to home, there were more immediate threats to Penob‑ scot cultural survival. Completed in 1876, the Intercontinental Railway now linked the New Brunswick port at St. John with Quebec and Maine. Along with the Canadian Pacific Railway and other lines established soon thereafter, these lines spurred both tourism and increased industrial development in the Northeast, at once opening employment opportunities for many members of the Maine tribes and, at the same time, offering incentives for emigration away from the reservations. By 1890, after decades of factional political conflict within the tribe, and the combined effects of out-migration and repeated cholera outbreaks, the Penobscots found themselves at the nadir of a thirty-year population decline. They now numbered fewer than four hundred.5 And as Nicolar acknowledged in his Preface, “the old traditional story tellers have all gone to the happy hunting ground” (96). The ability of the Penobscot to survive as Penobscots— let alone pass on a cultural inheritance to succeeding generations— was imperiled. As an elder and influential tribal leader, Nicolar knew it was imperative to organize his “forty years of search and study” into a permanent legacy for his people (96). Nicolar’s family and personal history gave him a special purchase on that task. He was born on February 15, 1827. His father, Tomer [Thomas] Nicola, was a direct descendant of “Half-Arm” Nicola, who lost part of his right forearm (hence his name) in 1724, when the colonial Massachusetts militia attacked and burned the Norridgewock Indian village on the upper Kennebec River (see Eckstorm, Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans, 31–32, 175n). As young Joseph had heard more than once, Half-Arm Nicola was among the 150 Norridgewock survivors, most of whom managed to reach safety in Quebec, while the wounded Nicola rescued the Norridgewock church’s iron cross and fled with it to Indian Island. Nicolar’s mother, Mary Malt [Martha] Neptune, came from an equally impressive lineage. The daughter of



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

39

John Neptune, a famous hereditary Penobscot sub-Chief, hunter, and meteoulin (or shaman), Mary Neptune was a powerful woman and a prodigious storyteller in her own right. Because Nicolar’s father died when the boy was still quite young, he was mostly raised within the large extended Neptune family of his mother. There, from his mother, from other Neptune family members, and from John Neptune himself, he heard stories about his grandfather’s considerable spiritual powers and hunting exploits (see Eckstorm, Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans).6 He also became associated with the Old Party, a political faction within the tribe aligned with John Neptune. Much of this clearly made its way into the pages of The Life and Traditions of the Red Man. But Nicolar’s education was not confined to family (and tribal) traditions alone. Having attended primary and secondary schools in Rockland, Warren, Brewer, and Old Town, Nicolar was among the best-educated Penobscot of his day. He taught himself land survey‑ ing and earned a modest income from farming beans, vegetables, wheat, and potatoes.7 In the 1870s and 1880s he served as superintendent of farming for the tribe, submitting regular written reports to the Indian Agent. Like most of his Indian Island neighbors, he supplemented his family’s larder by hunting and fishing. In the summers he often accompanied his wife and three daughters to the fashionable seaside resorts in Kennebunkport where they set up camp and, together, sold the beautiful brown ash and sweet-grass baskets wo‑ ven through the winter months by the women.8 After Nicolar’s death in February 1894, George H. Hunt, the Indian Agent, noted in his annual report for that year that Nicolar had been “well known even beyond the borders of our own State. Naturally intelligent, he had acquired a fair common-school education and was often termed the lawyer of the Tribe. Fond of composition, and somewhat ambitious for literary honors, he had been Island correspondent of one or more newspapers for years” (10).9 Nicolar was called “the lawyer of the Tribe” because of his political acumen in tribal disputes and because he so ably represented the tribe’s interests in the state legislature. He was the Indian Island “correspondent” because he so frequently wrote about the tribe. In the 1870s, under the pen name of “Young Sebattis,” he published news stories about the tribe as well as feature articles on traditional Penobscot crafts and history in a number of

40 In t ro d u ct ion

local Maine newspapers.10 He also wrote regular columns for both the Old Town Herald and the Old Town Enterprise.11 Composing random newspaper articles about Native crafts and lifeways, however, did not serve his larger purposes. The legacy that Nicolar would leave his people in The Life and Traditions of the Red Man was both a response to the situation of Native peoples in general and to the precarious situation of the Penobscot Nation in particular. Rejecting the notions that indigenous cultures were only anachronistic relics and that Native peoples needed to abandon their cultural heritage in order to survive, Nicolar fashioned a text that both encouraged and enabled his people to remain Native even in the midst of shifting and conflicted circumstances. To accomplish this, he asserted a mythos of continuity by first reframing the meaning of the Catholicism to which his people had long been converted and then rewriting all of history—from the creation to the present—with the Indian, rather than the white man, at its narrative center.

* 2 *

Throughout the nineteenth century, using everything from legal maneuvers and outright fraud to military might, the U.S. government increasingly pressured Native peoples to abandon their traditional lands and lifeways. In response, Native nations developed strategies of resistance, including, of course, defensive warfare. Another major expression of resistance took the form of nativistic renewal (or revival) movements, many of these religious in nature. Although the shape and substance of these movements varied from tribe to tribe, all were aimed at inspiring Native peoples to hold onto the sustaining aspects of their traditional cultures, like belief systems and seasonal ceremonies, while letting go of intrusions from Euroamerican culture that had proven harmful, like alcohol. Oftentimes, visionary leaders or prophets arose among the tribes, preaching a syncretic meld of traditional beliefs and Christian doctrine, and reviving ancient ceremonies or even introducing new ones. Probably the most famous (and most tragic) of these nineteenth-century revivals was the movement that came to be known as the Ghost Dance religion. In the 1880s, a prophet named Wovoka (1856–1932) began to attract followers among the Paiute, preaching a message of pacifism



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

41

and a return to traditional ways, and prophesying the eventual end to white possession of Indian lands. As Wovoka’s message spread to the Great Basin and Plains tribes, so too did the sacred dance he had introduced, sensationalized in the white press as the “ghost dance.” Because whites saw the new Ghost Dance religion as heretically messianic and its prophecies threatening, when the Sioux commenced to dance for five successive days, with some of the dancers achieving a trance-like state, and many of them wearing “ghost shirts” said to make them invulnerable to the white man’s bullets, the entire ceremony was deemed a provocation or even a preparation for war. On December 29, 1890, U.S. troops fired upon the Sioux encampment at Wounded Knee Creek in South Dakota, killing more than 300 men, women, and children. Nicolar must have concluded from the many newspaper accounts of the massacre that, in the white man’s eyes, certain iterations of Indian prophecies would not be easily tolerated. Nicolar therefore opens his own text by promising two different things at once. On the one hand, he promises to reveal Indian “prophesies [which] are very significant and important, not only to the red man himself, but [to] nations of all races as well” (Nicolar, 95). This has the rhetorical effect of seeming to de-center the Indian in favor of a universalizing message, a strategy surely intended to allay lingering white anxieties about Native prophecy texts. On the other hand, aware of all the scientific and pseudoscientific speculations about Indian origins, speculations which had prompted the research of Mallery and other ethnologists, Nicolar notes that “the learned of these modern dates . . . have . . . enquire[d], ‘Where did the red man come from?’ ” (95). Immediately he responds, “This is the question we intend to answer!” (95). For white readers, the opening thus appears both mollifying and enticing. But, while the quest to discover Native peoples’ geographical and racial origins may have constituted white readers’ interests, Nicolar had his own interests in mind. Among these was the conviction that his people had always lived where they had been meant to live, Maine’s land-greed notwithstanding. Between 1830 and 1833, when Nicolar was still a boy, the State of Maine repeatedly pressured the Penobscots to sell off more of their landholdings, paying very little in return. In the last of these land grabs, in 1833, the legislature “authorized the payment of [only] fifty thousand dollars into the tribal fund in exchange for . . . four townships of land” comprising ninety-five percent of remaining Penob-

42 In t ro d u ct ion

scot lands at that time (MacDougall, The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 158–59). Decades later, these land losses still rankled, because the Penobscots viewed the land not as separate from themselves but as part of the living community. In order to make a larger point about his peoples’ rightful belonging in their traditional lands, then, Nicolar disposes of the question of origins by conflating a creation story with hints of a migration story. Chapter one opens in a newly created world with the coming to consciousness of “Klose-kur-beh,” the major Wabanaki culture hero and culture-bringer (Nicolar, 97). As “a sense of thought came” to Klose-kur-beh, he hears himself addressed by “the ‘Great Being’ ” who enjoins him to believe “in me, I am the head of all that thou beholdest” (Nicolar, 98). The Great Being then informs Klose-kur-beh that “I will be thy teacher” so that Klosekur-beh can play the same role for others he has yet to meet (Nicolar, 99). Using various combinations of the Penobscots’ ritualized number seven, Nicolar recounts how Klose-kur-beh was sent by the Great Being on a lengthy journey and how, along the way, he is instructed in both practical and spiritual knowledge. That spiritual knowledge includes a distinction between the Great Being and “a living spirit in all things” who “has power over all.” The Great Being explains that this is “the Great Spirit.” “By His will, all things move, all power comes from Him; and . . . ‘Klose-kur-beh’ must teach the people that there is but one Great Spirit” (Nicolar, 102). As this and subsequent passages make clear, Nicolar is appropriating and adapting a version of orthodox Catholicism’s triune theology: God the father as original power and prime mover, the omnipotent creator; Jesus Christ the sacrificed son of God, the divine incarnate in human form; and the mystery of the Holy Ghost, to whom is attributed the operations of grace and the sanctification of souls. But Nicolar’s version is purposefully not orthodox. He blurs the trinitarian distinctions, folding aspects of the creator god and the Holy Ghost into both his Great Spirit and his Great Being, and significantly reduces the role and presence of Jesus. Instead, Klose-kur-beh himself effectively becomes the third actor in Nicolar’s trinity, replacing Jesus not as the sacrificed son but as the being “charged with the task of teaching the people how to follow the will of the Great Spirit.”12 It was a daring move, to say the least. No less important, Nicolar’s Great Spirit resides not in heaven but suffuses the visible physical world. Therefore, when Klose-kur-beh



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

43

teaches “his people, he points out to them where the Great Spirit was:—in the sun—moon—stars—clouds of heaven—mountains, and even in the trees of the earth” (Nicolar, 102). In that description of the Great Spirit, as in Klose-kur-beh’s earlier representation of the Great Being, Nicolar embeds the familiar features of the Penobscots’ traditional Creator Spirit Being, GheChe’Nawais (or Kci-Niwesk). For the Penobscot, GheChe’Nawais encompassed both the Creator and the essence of life, or spirit, in all things.13 Nicolar thereby further blurred the distinctions between the Great Being and the Great Spirit, fusing both into the elemental spiritual and life-giving force embodied in and through the physical world and engaging human beings directly in complex reciprocal relationships with a living world of which they are a part. In so doing, Nicolar illustrates how, over time, his people had incorporated Christian teachings into their prior belief systems and, in the process, modified the spiritual meanings of their longtime Catholicism. But the Great Being’s instructions are not solely spiritual. Among other things, Klose-kur-beh is “shown how to obtain food, and with what to clothe himself ” (Nicolar, 101). All this he will later pass on, both to his companions and to the people. Although the many story cycles about Klose-kur-beh (also called Gluskabe, Gluscap, Klooscap, Glouscap, etc.) vary widely from one Wabanaki tribe to another, all the known cycles join him with helpercompanions. These companions generally exhibit their own unique kinds of wisdom and carry layered identities composed of multivalent symbolic meanings. In some stories, Klose-kur-beh’s companions take both human and animal form. In Nicolar’s version, these companions—like Klose-kur-beh himself—are persons. But in their origins they signify the life-giving powers of nature. Klose-kur-beh has been formed from the earth. “Nok-a-mi” says she owes her existence to the warmth of the “noon-day sun” on “the dew of the rock” (Nicolar, 103). “Natar-wun-sum” owes his existence to the warmth of the sun on “the beautiful foam of the waters,” while “Nee-garoose” owes her “existence to the beautiful plant of the earth” enlivened by the sun’s warmth on the dew (Nicolar, 104, 105). “Because the substance that brought us to life is the substance of the world,” Klose-kur-beh explains, “therefore we must always hold ourselves as a part of the world, because we are substance of it” (Nicolar, 106). It is a lesson he will pass on to the people, as well. But while Klose-kur-

44 I n t ro d uct ion

beh and his companions emanate from an elemental life force that permeates and unites the world, they also embody attributes and capacities. Natar-wun-sum, the young man, boasts the energy and agility of youth, “quick in my motion,” while Nee-gar-oose, the maiden, projects among other things “love” and “strength” (Nicolar, 104, 105). Typically, characters in Penobscot stories, whether human or animal, address one another with kinship terms, denoting literal relationships or, more often, conveying respect through assertions of symbolic relatedness. In Nicolar’s text, Klose-kur-beh and his three companions establish relationships that patterned traditional terms of respect and interaction between and among the Penobscot people. For example, “Nok-a-mi,” the woman “bowed down with old age,” is not only addressed as “grandmother,” but her name also literally translates as grandmother, thus denoting her possession of the wisdom of age and experience and the regard that must be paid her for that wisdom (Nicolar, 103). Together, these four—Klose-kurbeh, Nok-a-mi, Natar-wun-sum, and Nee-gar-oose—create a primal family that models the proper social roles for both men and women. As the hero-protector who “arose from the dust of the earth,” Klosekur-beh must clear the earth “of all obstacles” so that the land can be “a home for the people who will come after us” (Nicolar, 106). Klose-kur-beh further explains that while he pursues his labors, “Noka-mi will keep my house and prepare the food for eating, and the young man, because he is quick in motion, he shall go forth and bring unto No-ka-mi all that he gets in hunting” (106). Natar-wun-sum, the name of the young man, translates as son of my sister, or nephew, an especially powerful relationship in traditional Penobscot culture, and suggests a mentoring relationship between Klose-kur-beh and Natar-wun-sum. Having been tutored by Klose-kur-beh, Natarwun-sum will later become First Father of “the people.” “The young maiden,” in her turn, “shall welcome all that come to abide with us” and will, in time, become First Mother and, subsequently, the selfsacrificing Corn Mother, “the seed of the world” (Nicolar, 106, 107). Her name, Nee-gar-oose, literally translates as mother. Buried in all this is a hint of remnant migration stories. Klose-kurbeh appears to have journeyed from the north to the south and headed eastward. Nok-a-mi comes from the west. Natar-wun-sum traveled northward from the south. And Nee-gar-oose says she traveled east-



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

45

ward “toward the rising of the sun” (Nicolar, 105). To be sure, their travels encode the four cardinal directions. Yet it may be significant that the different Wabanaki tribes—and even some bands within the tribes—claim different paths of origin in their many stories. A Micmac story about the arrival of Gluscap and several companions from across the ocean on a floating island, for instance, is taken by some Micmac storytellers to point to an ancient migration of at least one group of ancestors from the east, perhaps Europe (see Running Wolf and Smith, On the Trail of Elder Brother, 4). But whatever the original sources and meanings of such stories, Nicolar converts the convergence of Klose-kur-beh and his companions into the arrival of the symbolic ancestors: “Thus the first coming of the people to the Redman’s world began” (Nicolar, 106). In other words, the ancestors came from everywhere, a nod perhaps to the several tribes and tribal traditions that made up the Penobscot Nation in 1893. That said, the text also offers another, wholly different origin story. This story suggests the separate creation of racially different beings in different places. “The White man wanted to stay on the land where he first opened his eyes” (Nicolar, 111). The black man, according to Klose-kur-beh, is “still another man in some other part of the world” (Nicolar, 111). At least some of Klose-kur-beh’s instruction by the Great Being, Nicolar insists, took place “on the eastern part of the Red man’s World” (101). And when the Great Spirit describes the respective duties of the man and the woman, bidding “that they shall be husband and wife,” he is clearly describing Indian people in their land, not Adam and Eve in the Garden (Nicolar, 108). Nicolar thus seems to be locating each race’s geographic origin in the land of that race’s first creation. This was not a wholly inconceivable proposition because, in the nineteenth century, a number of prominent zoologists and geologists at U.S. universities were questioning the biblical story of a single creation and postulating, instead, a doctrine of polygenesis, or multiple independent times and sites for the emergence of life. The corollary proposition was that the different human races also had different and separate origins.14 Widely disseminated in the popular press, these ideas were easily available for Nicolar to adapt to his own purposes. Moreover, by specifically mentioning only the black man, the red man, and the white man, Nicolar eliminates by silence any reference to then-current theories about the possible Asian antecedents of Native peoples. In short, whatever the direc-

46 In t ro d u ct ion

tional origins of the symbolic ancestors—Klose-kur-beh and his three companions—Nicolar’s text strongly implies that traditional Native territories in North America are legitimately “the Red man’s World” because that world is the indigenous place of creation of the people. In one stroke, Nicolar has mined formalized biblical language in order to construct an alternative creation narrative that both validates Native peoples’ continuing struggles to hold onto their traditional lands and also honors the value of precontact indigenous cultures. After all, among the most “sacred” of Klose-kur-beh’s teachings to his people is that “the land the Great Spirit gave unto them they must never leave” (Nicolar, 102). Again and again, the text insists that this is “the land the Great Spirit gave you” (Nicolar, 115). Native peoples’ rights to their lands is thus authorized by the same divine being, familiar from the King James version of the bible, who had first made “man in our own image” (Nicolar, 98). The unspoken subtext, of course, is that anyone (or any state) that takes away Native peoples’ lands thereby contravenes divine will. That same divine being also authorizes Native culture. Consistent with many Wabanaki stories in which human beings learn new technologies from supernatural beings, the Great Being whom Klose-kurbeh hears “saying: ‘Let us make man in our own image’ ” becomes his personal tutor and guide, teaching all the things, both spiritual and practical, that Klose-kur-beh “must teach the people” (Nicolar, 98, 102). And when Klose-kur-beh begins instructing the first parents in the use of the bow for hunting or the preparation of animal “skins to cover your bodies and bed,” he claims merely to be repeating what “the Great Spirit charged me to teach you” (Nicolar, 109). In Nicolar’s text, therefore, Klose-kur-beh the culture-bringer is not so much an innovator or inventor as an emissary from powers greater than himself. This runs counter to most other extant versions of Klose-kurbeh’s exploits wherein the culture hero is not only a teacher but an innovator and inventor, as well. Yet Nicolar intentionally suppressed this aspect of Klose-kur-beh in order to attribute the origins of Native material culture and belief systems both directly and indirectly to entities with decidedly sacred and Christianized associations. He thus attempted to valorize what Euroamericans had demeaned as merely primitive.



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

47

* 3 *

Clearly, in order to fashion such a narrative, Nicolar radically revised his sources, both Penobscot and Christian. As his paragraphs on the correct translation of the name Klose-kur-beh reveal, he was particularly concerned about his rendering of the culture hero. As Nicolar so well understood, by the time he was writing, there had been “a vast change in the Indian dialect” (100). Some words had been altogether lost, others altered in their meaning. Even so, despite Nicolar’s efforts to resurrect “the original Indian phraseology,” his Klosekur-beh is at least a partial invention rather than a harkening back to any pure “original” (101). In the 1930s, the anthropologist Frank Speck wrote that gluski (or Klose-kur in Nicolar’s spelling) translates as “deceit, lie, nothing,” while ábe (or beh) denotes “person” (Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 5 n.1). But Nicolar’s caution that “the word, Klosekur-beh needs much explanation” may be closer to the mark (100). In most traditional Wabanaki stories, this culture hero and culturebringer is self-created (Nicolar calls him “the man from nothing”); or his origin is simply “taken for granted” rather than explained (Nicolar, 100; see Wherry’s introduction to the 1893 edition of The Life and Traditions of the Red Man, xi; also Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 5–6). In fact, recent studies of the Penobscot language suggest a more nuanced range of meanings than offered by Speck, all of them “persistent in their emphasis on [Klose-kur-beh’s] strong association with acts of creation, up to and including even his own creation.”15 In part, this seems to derive from an even larger set of meanings that associate Klose-kur-beh or Klose-ki (in Nicolar’s spelling) with fabrication, the imaginary, unreality (what Nicolar translates as “simple appearance”), even falsehood or deceit, albeit without necessarily negative connotations (Nicolar, 100).16 Thus, attempting to invoke these older, less pejorative meanings, Nicolar roundly rejects any understanding of “the word, ‘Klose-kur-beh’ ” as meaning “ ‘a man of falsehood, or more vulgarly, a liar’ ” (101).17 The extant corpus of Wabanaki Gluscap stories (and there are hundreds) suggests that Nicolar was at least partly correct—but only partly. In these stories, Gluscap is sometimes violent, relying on brute force, but more often he confronts challenges and outwits enemies by

48 I n t ro d uct ion

strategy, cunning, or outright deception—whatever is required. He is at times deceitful or untruthful; and he can be disruptive of human affairs, playful, even lewd (see Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 6). He is also a protector and potential avenger. When Speck lived with and studied the Penobscot in the early decades of the twentieth century, he learned that, at least until 1910, it was “common belief in the tribe that . . . Gluska’be, was still manufacturing stone arrowpoints in his mythical abode, for the day when he should return and expel the whites from the country” (Speck, Penobscot Man, 4). But most of this Nicolar omits in order to present Klose-kur-beh not as vengeful nor as self-made but as protective emissary created by “the will of the ‘Great Being’ and immediately given the mission of extolling . . . ethical principles and . . . provisioning the earth for man’s needs” (Wherry, “Introduction,” xi). Denuded of his profane and potentially vengeful characteristics, Nicolar’s Klose-kur-beh emerges as the great transformer (reducing the size of the giant animals), the great culture-bringer (introducing everything from spiritual truths to canoe-making), and most important of all, the instructor who exhorts the people to “keep yourselves within the bounds of my teaching” (Nicolar, 115). As that teaching unfolds in the first chapter, Nicolar interweaves the story of Klose-kur-beh’s creation with elements from both the Old and the New Testaments. Klose-kur-beh alludes to the Garden of Eden (“the first woman shall disobey the Great Spirit, and bring death unto mankind”); the Cain and Abel story (“The first born shall slay the next kindred to himself for the want of power and possession”); Noah’s flood (“the Great Spirit . . . will send a great rush of water, and all the bad shall be drowned,—but a few saved”); the crucifixion (“the Great Spirit will come among them in the form of a man like unto themselves, and. . . . they will slay the great spirit unto death”); and the resurrection (“he shall arise before them”) (Nicolar, 112). While there is nothing remarkable in any of this, in the second chapter Nicolar begins his revision of Christian theology by investing the crucifixion with a wholly new set of meanings. Chapter two opens with Klose-kur-beh reassuring his people that “you will not have a hand in taking the life of the Great Spirit” (114). “All these bad things will come to pass across the big water,” and so Klose-kur-beh’s people “will escape His wrath” (Nicolar, 114). Yet, as Klose-kur-beh prophesies, because “the white man . . . will not rest



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

49

until he finds the land the Great Spirit gave unto you,” Native peoples will be beset by “many temptations” (115). The most dangerous of these will be the temptation to take a “hand in their fights” over possession of the land. Klose-kur-beh sternly warns against this “because the Great Spirit did not make the land for brothers to fight for; He made it for love’s sake” (Nicolar, 115). Unfortunately, the greed and cupidity of the whites will not allow for sharing. “The first that come,” says Klose-kur-beh, “shall not want to allow his own kind to share [the land] with him; they shall slay one another for the possession of it” (Nicolar, 115). And despite all his prophetic warnings, in the closing paragraph of his teaching, Klose-kur-beh predicts precisely what will—and did—ensue: Woe unto you when the temptation overpowers you and you take hand in his fights, because he shall have the way that he can put you in front of him, and you shall receive all the blows and be slain for his gain; and the two brothers shall make peace between themselves over your body that has been slain for the land because you have forgotten my teaching. I must say to you, watch him closely, because the repentance he is to undergo is great, and he will ask you to help him repent, and he will say to you that the “Great Spirit died for him,” he will show you the things that caused the death of the Great Spirit and he will teach you to bow down to these things; and bow you may; but never forget that the Great Spirit is in the air, in the sun, moon, and in all things which your eyes can see.—Here the teaching of Klose-kur-beh ended. (115)

To be sure, Native readers well understood how their tribes had been used as proxies or employed as convenient ethnic mercenaries in the white men’s wars (“the way that he can put you in front of him”), only to “receive all the blows and be slain for his gain.” It was a scenario particularly familiar to the Penobscots, first during the colonial wars, and then as allies of the rebellious colonists during the Revolutionary War. They had been “slain for [the white man’s] gain” over and over, only to lose more and more of their territories as “the two brothers”—first the French and the English, later the Americans and the English—made “peace between themselves” by dividing up Native lands in their treaty agreements (usually without the tribes’ knowledge or consent). As a result, despite the fact that Penobscot warriors had served in George Washington’s army, the tribe came

50 In t ro d u ct ion

out of the Revolutionary War with little means to protect its traditional territories. What Nicolar added to that well-worn history was a slant that refigured the Indian as a kind of Christ figure. Just as the white man, for “love of power,” once killed the Great Spirit in a land across the waters, so now he is guilty of having “slain [Native peoples] for his gain” and then “mak[ing] peace between themselves over your body that has been slain for the land” (Nicolar, 112, 115). The Indian thus becomes a surrogate for the body of Christ (a phrase the Penobscots heard each Sunday) and another innocent sacrifice to the white man’s greed and power-lust. And all “because you [i.e., Klose-kurbeh’s people] have forgotten my teaching” about refraining from involvement in the wars between European powers on American soil. Then, in what is perhaps the most remarkable statement in the paragraph, Klose-kur-beh asserts that the white man will “ask you to help him repent” the killing of the Great Spirit. He will do this by teaching “the things that caused the death of the Great Spirit” and by introducing among the Indians new symbols—that is, the cross—to which they will be taught to “bow down.” The culture hero thereby reframes the postcontact conversion of Native peoples into the means by which whites will enact their repentance for the crucifixion. In addition to being the sacrificial Christ figure, the Indian thus stands also as a Christlike redeemer figure, necessary to the white man’s ultimate salvation. Where Nicolar had subtly inserted Klosekur-beh into the Catholic trinity in chapter one, here he makes all Indians surrogate Christ figures and again reconstitutes the meaning and persons of the holy trinity. In other words, by largely ignoring the story of original sin in the Garden of Eden, Nicolar positioned the crucifixion as the central sin of Christian doctrine; and it is for this sin that the white man seeks redemption. As the passage emphasizes, the white man will “say to you that the ‘Great Spirit died for him’ ” (my emphasis). Rather than validating the Euroamerican view that their missionaries had magnanimously “saved” the Indian by bringing Christianity to the savages, Klose-kur-beh makes clear that the red man was never in need of salvation because the Indian remained forever innocent of what had transpired “across the big water.” Instead, the red man emerges as instrumental to securing the white man’s salvation. This redeemer role tacitly justifies the Indians’ allowing the white



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

51

man “to teach you to bow down to these things” and gives a kind of conditional permission to the conversion process: “and bow you may.” That tacit permission, of course, was demanded by a history that had already transpired. Like the other Wabanaki tribes, the Penobscot had long ago been converted to Catholicism by French missionary priests. In more recent years, some members of the tribe had become Protestants. But for Nicolar, these facts did not necessarily mean the end of indigenous belief systems. Although the people may eventually “bow down” before foreign religious symbols, nonetheless, admonishes Klose-kur-beh, “never forget that the Great Spirit is in the air, in the sun, moon, and in all things which your eyes can see.—Here the teaching of Klose-kur-beh ended.” As in chapter one, here too Klose-kur-beh’s words express what is essentially a syncretic vision. By having Klose-kur-beh locate “the Great Spirit . . . in the air, in the sun, moon, and in all things which your eyes can see,” Nicolar again masterfully fuses the Christian notion of a divinely created universe with the traditional Algonquian belief in a numinous world everywhere alive with kin-beings and imbued everywhere with spirit and power. As the grandson of John Neptune, the fabled shaman, Nicolar found this a means of resisting Christianity’s otherwise hegemonic cast.

* 4 *

Several of the traditional storytellers whom Nicolar consulted for his work later complained to Frank Speck that “Nicolar gilded his material with Catholicism in accord with his own fancies” (Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 7, n. 1). The storytellers’ complaint is not inaccurate, but it misses the point. By emphasizing an inherent congruity between precontact Algonquian and postcontact Christianized belief systems, Nicolar tempers the ruptures in Native culture brought on by the European invasion and credits the Indians with agency. It is a theme he repeats in later chapters when he explains why the Indians “were ready to receive and believe [the missionaries’] doctrine. The reason of this ready belief was because the teaching was similar to the one the spiritual men of the people [that is, the shamans or medicine men] had been teaching” (Nicolar, 194). Thus, he contends, Native belief systems were never extinguished

52 In t ro d u ct ion

but, rather, continued in a different form. By asserting this view of Penobscot culture as dynamic, always changing and incorporating new elements, Nicolar preserves the mythos of unbroken survival that sustains his narrative. As suggested earlier, key to maintaining that mythos of continuity is Nicolar’s ability to tweak and refine his sources. He valorizes Klose-kur-beh as a culture-bringer and teacher, but he never pictures Klose-kur-beh manufacturing arrowheads in preparation for wresting the land from the white man. Moreover, as a practicing Catholic himself, living in a house within a hundred yards of the Catholic church on Indian Island and daily seeing the nuns from the Sisters of Mercy who ran the nearby elementary school, Nicolar makes no attempt to evade the historical fact of the Christian teachings which now permeated Penobscot culture. Instead, he sustains the importance of Klose-kur-beh as a viable continuing ethical guide and, at the same time, in good Penobscot storytelling fashion, he adapts Christianity’s sacred stories to suit his own present purposes.18 In that process, he produced a wholly unique revivalist and resistance text. Invoking an apocalyptic vision of shaking earth and “great pits”— images taken from the Book of Revelations and popularized by the doomsday and fire-and-brimstone preachers who traveled New Eng‑ land throughout the nineteenth century—Nicolar has Klose-kurbeh prophesy that the white man, not having practiced “humiliation and obedience” and “not having repented,” will finally bring on his own destruction (Nicolar, 112–13). “And the powerful man shall be no more” (Nicolar, 113). In other words, if—as Klose-kur-beh also prophesies—the whites “shall live fast, and pass away quickly,” while the Indian “shall linger a long while beyond your [white] brother,” then that future is determined both by the whites’ responsibility for their own actions and by the will of the recognizably Christianized Great Spirit. As in the Paiute medicine man Wovoka’s vision, the passing away of the white man and the eventual return of the land to the Indian is promised. But not by the hand of the Penobscots or their avenging hero Klose-kur-beh. Nicolar has been careful not to reawaken the same Euroamerican anxieties that attended the Ghost Dance religion. No less important, it is only when the whites have brought on their own destruction, “[a]nd the powerful man shall be no more,” that Klose-kur-beh promises “the Great Spirit shall call me forth . . . to



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

53

teach you more” (Nicolar, 113). Quietly and without calling attention to what he is about, Nicolar here once again inserts Klose-kur-beh into Christian theology. For the Indians, the Second Coming will not be Christ’s but the long-promised return of Klose-kur-beh.

* 5 *

While dire predictions of the white man’s coming are prominent in Klose-kur-beh’s teachings, and while references to several different arrival moments are scattered throughout chapters four, five, and six, actual descriptions of European landfalls or Indian–white interactions are relatively few and significantly compressed within Nicolar’s text. He clearly anticipated white readership but, just as clearly, he seems not to have been interested in writing either about them or solely for them. As he reveals in the first chapter, his desired and intended readers were primarily his own people, and especially future generations. He thus commits himself to communicating “a full account of all the original traditions, in a simple way and manner, so that even the small children will readily understand” (Nicolar, 100). But among the traditions the children will need to understand are those related to the white man’s arrival in “the Red-man’s world” (Nicolar, 106). It is not a story he can entirely omit. As that story begins, the white man and his season are immediately marked as dangerous. According to Klose-kur-beh, “the Great Spirit” decrees “three seasons, a season for each man” (111). “The growing season shall be the Red man’s season. The gathering season shall be the Black man’s season, and the cold season shall be the White man’s season” (111). The season associated with the Indian, “this growing season[,] shall be pleasant to mankind, because it will bring forth many beautiful colors, pleasing to the eye” (Nicolar, 111). The “Black man” and his season receive little elaboration and promptly disappear from the text. But winter, the white man’s season, is “a season that . . . shall destroy everything” (Nicolar, 111). Even so, the first appearance of Europeans does not immediately prove destructive, nor does it coincide with Klose-kur-beh’s prophecy that “the first sign of his coming shall appear to you in the form of a swan towards the rising sun” (Nicolar, 115). Instead, “young men . . . out on a hunt” who, “according to custom had taken one old

54 I n t ro d uct ion

man with them, . . . come out to the seashore” and there “discovered a man’s track” (Nicolar, 162). Upon examination, the tracks are determined to be those of strangers. At this, the old man—probably an elder or a medicine practitioner brought along to help ensure the hunting party’s success—begins to cry and reveals why: “Upon seeing the strange tracks, all the warnings which have been given us, how that a time is coming when we must look for the coming of the white man from the direction of the rising sun . . . came upon me so fresh I could not withhold the tears.” He now fears “that a great change must follow . . . because his coming will put a bar to our happiness, and our destiny will be at the mercy of the events” (Nicolar, 163). Yet the people gather “a good crop of corn” and are said to enjoy their “old happiness” “for many times seventy summers and winters” (Nicolar, 164). Multiples of seven, the number sacred to many eastern Algonquian groups, here signify not literal years but significant passages of cyclical time. This may be Nicolar’s way of signaling that, long before recorded contact, Native peoples told stories about intermittent sightings of strangers (or sightings of their tracks and vessels) which proved uneventful. That is, “until the fish famine” (164). Now Klose-kur-beh’s prophecy finally comes into play. In a series of episodes that appears to collapse elements from earthquakes, passing comets, plumes of volcanic ash covering the sun and spreading out over land and sea, and a meteor strike just off the coast, Nicolar links the arrival of Europeans with portentous natural phenomena. To begin with, “a very dense fog came over the whole country and remained seven moons, and during that time no fish could be found . . . therefore the supply of food became scant,” including “other game food” (Nicolar, 164). The “spiritual men” (or shamans) labor in vain “to search and find out the cause” (Nicolar, 164). All they can divine are “voices of men on the sea in the direction where the sun rises” (Nicolar, 164). Following the instructions in Klose-kur-beh’s prophecy, “the old men” (that is, the elders and medicine practitioners) decide “to send to north land for help,” after which a “loon was heard coming through the air from the north land.”19 Upon landing, however, “instead of being a loon it was an aged woman,” and with her comes “a gentle breeze of wind. . . . which continued until all the fog had been blown away” (Nicolar, 165). The loon’s transformation into human form permits communication in the language of the



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

55

people as opposed to that of the animals, and her transformation into “an aged woman” establishes her as a person of wisdom, who must be respected and attended to. The old woman uncovers the source of the mysterious famineinducing fog. She points to the people “who are floating there, . . . toward the mid-ocean,” and identifies them as the cause of it all: “The[se] people,” she explains, “have brought upon you this trouble and hunger, you cannot find the animals because the days have been so dark, you cannot find fish because there is a covering over all the fish which the power of these people have placed there, it is the spiritual power that is in them” (Nicolar, 165). And she adds: “if the power that is in you has not the force to overcome it, woe unto you” (Nicolar, 165). The coming contest between peoples is thus constructed as something that transcends martial battles or confrontations of brute strength. Instead, this will be an opposition of spiritual powers, that is, moral and metaphysical forces inherent in human beings that can be called upon for good or for harm. Understood this way, the fog is portentous on two levels simultaneously. At the most obvious level, it disrupts the natural order of things, initiating a famine. But at the more ominous level, it manifests the arrival of those who can and do disrupt the natural order of the world by exercising their considerable powers badly. This may explain why the loon woman echoes Klosekur-beh’s words from chapter two, warning “You shall be happy until you have fallen into the ways of these people” (Nicolar, 165). Powerful though they may be, the destructive capacities of the strangers are not to be emulated. The Native people must choose another way. As their ally in this respect, the old woman explains that it is her “duty now either to capture these persons or make them flee. . . . If we succeed in capturing them, their mission in bringing misery and suffering among you will virtually be at an end. But if they succeed in making their escape, look for them again some day in the same direction” (Nicolar, 166). Using various ritual implements, the woman says she will attempt to spear and draw to shore what the text, for the first time, identifies as “the ‘K’chi-wump-toqueh’—white swan” of Klose-kur-beh’s original prophecy (Nicolar, 166).20 This very old Native locution for European vessels held both descriptive and symbolic value. From a distance, at full sail, the multimasted European ships with their billowing canvas or linen sails

56 In t ro d u ct ion

bleached white by sun and salt spray did, in fact, resemble a white swan gliding on water with its wings extended upward. And like the migratory swans, in the seventeenth century, European ships also came and went according to the seasons. This permitted the ships to take advantage of seasonally prevailing wind patterns and ocean currents. Moreover, because of the linguistic linkage between the words for white, light, and dawn, for many eastern Algonquian groups, the color white denoted origins from the east. This particular white swan from the east carries the men whose powers brought on the fog. Therefore, if it can be drawn to shore, the loon woman orders that “three men be standing to cut off the heads of the three persons who are inside of the bird[. Y]ou shall know they are the right ones because they are white, the same color like the bird” (Nicolar, 167). But the old woman is not overly confident. The men inside the swan may well escape and, in that event, she and the people will have succeeded “only [in] draw[ing] in a dead swan” (Nicolar, 167). Perhaps even more threatening, the loon woman predicts that if the strangers escape, they will surely return again, only this time they “shall depend upon the power they have gathered in their learning” (Nicolar, 166). The white men’s spiritual capacities for causing harm, in other words, will in future be enhanced by the power of their “learning” (or technology). Here an entirely new element enters the narrative: “the shaking of the water and land,” or what appears to be a description of the tremors succeeding an earthquake (Nicolar, 167). Temporarily abandoning her pursuit of the white swan, the loon woman continues cryptically: “Though these men may escape the shaking of the water and land, they may be far away when it comes, yet they shall feel the shake of it, and shall hear the sound, and a fear shall come upon them so they will never come to you again with the spiritual power because the shake of the water and the shake of the land they shall always fear” (167). In short, the white men may be far enough out to sea so as to escape the worst consequences of “the shaking of the water and land,” but, even so, they will not be so far away as not to “feel the shake of it” or “hear the sound.” As a result, this unnamed catastrophic natural occurrence will so frighten the newcomers that they will never again try to use their “spiritual power” against the Native people. But they will still possess “the power they have gathered in their learning.”



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

57

Of course, her statements evoke traditional Algonquian conceptions of a world alive with sentient powers, a world where natural phenomena are always rife with meaning. Moreover, because this part of New England was once a frequent site of earthquakes, many old Wabanaki stories cast Earthquake as a being who engages actively in the world.21 But Nicolar has the loon woman do something different. She invokes “the shaking of the water and land” as the natural world’s means of enforcing a kind of moral restraint: “And it is well that there be some power reserved which shall be brought upon those who shall become so great in power that others will not be able to overcome [them]” (Nicolar, 167). The natural world itself, in other words, has its own stratagems of response to the unbridled exercise of human power. But when the text returns to its former narrative thread—the capture of the white swan—we learn that the white men have escaped. “Only three vacant seats could be seen” (Nicolar, 168). And once again something covers the water and hides the fish. The loon woman proposes to fly back “to the north land,” but promises “before the sun goes down I will return and shall then break up all the covering which have been hiding the fish” (Nicolar, 168). This time her appearance is even more dramatic. “The same white loon [comes] from the north very swiftly, and when it reached the place opposite where the dead swan lay, it made its usual circles, there it stood very high and very still for a few moments, then it turned itself into a great ball of fire, and fell swiftly down to the water; and when it struck the water, the earth shook and the roar of it was great. So great was the roar, all the land shook and stood trembling for a long time” (Nicolar, 168). The roiling water brings fish back to the surface, but “this great shock also brought back the fog. The return of the fog, however, was but a short duration, it only remained seven days and when it cleared away and the sun shone there was much happiness, because the people were already catching as many fishes as was needed” (Nicolar, 168). Once more we have elements that suggest earthquake, volcanic ash, a comet, or even a meteorite strike off the coast. The suggestion of a meteorite seems particularly prominent: the apparent pause before the meteorite burns up as it plunges into the earth’s atmosphere, “a great ball of fire”; the tremendous force, or “great shock,” of impact; the roar and aftershocks following impact, perhaps even set-

58 I n t ro d u ct ion

ting off some seismic (or earthquake) activity; and the vaporization and particulate matter of the meteorite’s breakup that would darken the atmosphere for a time and bring “back the fog.” But while such an event may actually have once occurred and become a part of ancient lore, the geological and cosmological details are of no real interest to Nicolar.22 For him, two things only are important in this event: the loon woman’s capacity to make the world whole again and the entire episode’s symbolic value in explaining the source of the chert and flint that precontact Native peoples in Maine and Canada knapped and flaked into arrowheads and spearheads. The abundance and the utility of the stone fragments that “fly in pieces to the shore” after the fireball’s descent reinforce traditional beliefs that this part of the world has been created (and subsequently transformed) specifically for the Native peoples’ benefit and use. The loon woman’s fiery fall into the sea has produced material useful for making “small implements” like “small spears and arrowheads” (Nicolar, 169). And while the loon woman did not succeed in capturing the white men, she did effectively dispel the harm she says they have caused. Nicolar’s point is that, as the emissary of Klose-kurbeh—who had earlier transformed the world for the peoples’ benefit—the loon woman, too, embodies spiritual forces at work in and through the natural world that can transform the world and thwart the malevolent powers of the newly arriving strangers. The implied message, then, is that whatever the threat, insofar as Native peoples follow Klose-kur-beh’s teachings, they have always had protectors and resources. The people begin to veer away from those teachings, however, with the first actual sighting of a European landing party. Nicolar never says whether the men in this landing party are the same strangers as those whose track had been found or whether they are those who had previously come in the white swan. The ambiguity contributes to an impression of multiple early arrivals and explorations, an impression that is unquestionably historically accurate. What the text does tell us unambiguously is that “These people were considered very strange because they were not white as the snow, and not so white as the people expected them to be, but were brown and hairy people” (Nicolar, 169). It is possible, of course, that this was Nicolar’s way of slyly commenting on the arbitrariness of racial categories. After all, as Nicolar well knew, the “red man” wasn’t really red, either.23



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

59

That said, it is far more probable that one or another of Nicolar’s “old traditional story tellers” used precisely such language in order to convey his people’s memories of the several different European ethnic groups who arrived over time as first explorers.24 Additionally, by reporting his people’s surprise that these particular strangers did not perfectly match their expectations, the old storyteller effectively reinforced the idea that there really had been a prophecy about the arrival of white men and that the Native peoples had been waiting for this specified arrival and not for seemingly “brown and hairy people.” For his part, Nicolar surely recognized the rhetorical utility of repeating the storyteller’s words in order to create the same effect and thereby reinforce his own claims about the authenticity of Klosekur-beh’s prophecies.25 Whatever the strangers’ ethnicity, the significance of this arrival is that it initiates the introduction of competition, “jealousy,” and “hatred” among the “spiritual men,” culminating in the separation of Klose-kur-beh’s people into oppositional groups and, eventually, in the outbreak of internecine warfare (Nicolar, 170). As Nicolar explains, “this long looked for event”—that is, the arrival of the whites— leads the people to select “some good spiritual men . . . [to go] along the coast to watch the strange people’s movements . . . until [their] true description and habits had been learned” (169). But this selection process proves disastrous. “As soon as the selection of the best and noted of [the spiritual men] had been made and become known, those that . . . had not received the appointment became jealous.” They began expressing their “hatred” of those who had been selected, and, worst of all, they gathered followers “into their folds” (Nicolar, 170). Gone is the “kind and brotherly” feeling that had earlier prevailed among the shamans (Nicolar, 169). The people become “divided,” and “the whole country was thrown into different bands” (Nicolar, 170). Inevitably, hostilities break out and, as Nicolar sadly comments, “the happiness which was in the grasp of the people slipped out from their hands, and has never returned, even to this day” (170). Although it is the arrival of the whites which indirectly precipitates these unhappy events, in fact the whites never act as agents in this episode. Instead, Nicolar points the finger of blame at “the disappointed class” (170). “All of the battles were created and brought on by the disappointed [and their followers], and the attacks were made

60 I n t ro d uct ion

by them” (Nicolar, 171). As Nicolar tells it, the “shadow of gloom” that spreads “over the whole region” results not from the arrival but from some individuals’ reactions in the face of that arrival (170). Clearly, some people have chosen the wrong path, not as passive victims of white conquest but as independent actors of their own will. And because some Indians have now begun acting out the jealousy and competition that Klose-kur-beh had previously attributed to the whites, they fulfill the loon woman’s awful prophecy: “You shall be happy until you have fallen into the ways of these people.” Even so, the transformation has not been complete. Although Nicolar cites instances in which the warring “spiritual men” abuse their shamanic powers, he is also quick to point to the more benign traditional aspects of this warfare. “The object in all the wars was only to subdue one another. The conqueror never takes possession [of ] any part of the country that he conquers, nor requires any indemnity from the conquered; will not even take away things belonging to them” (Nicolar, 172).26 In other words, even if the Indians are fighting out of motives previously associated with whites, they have not exhibited the land-greed with which Klose-kur-beh had so insistently identified the white man. When the hostilities are finally over, we get a further description of the strangers. With the peace, “those that were sent to follow and watch the movements of the strange people . . . returned and gave an accurate account of their discoveries” (Nicolar, 173). These include the fact that “the hairy men” had smaller boats lashed to the sides of “their large canoe,” which permitted easier exploration of “the shores, islands, coves and rivers” (Nicolar, 173). Consistent with seventeenth-century Europeans’ eagerness to exploit the rich fishing grounds along the coasts of North America, we learn that the strangers fish “every calm morning,” hauling “very large fishes up over the side of their big canoe.” On land, they carry away “only some water” (Nicolar, 174). They “talk in a language [the Indians] could not understand,” though no direct contact is made, and the strangers’ speech is merely overheard (Nicolar, 174). When last seen, “the big canoe” was out at sea, “heading . . . in the southern direction” (Nicolar, 173). Everything the watchmen recount “established the fact that [the] white man had come to the red man’s world. This discovery was not looked upon as anything strange, since it had been foretold by the



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

61

old prophets” (Nicolar, 174). Once more, the challenge for the Native people is how to respond. The elders consult among themselves and with the people. “And after the subject had been fully discussed by all the people throughout the country, it was thought best, and was so decided, that when the strange people came, to receive them as friends, and if possible make brothers of them” (Nicolar, 174). Among most northeastern Algonquian groups, including the Penobscot, “brother” was a formal kinship term denoting equal status. But Nicolar does not immediately pursue the outcome of this decision. Repeating what is by now a familiar strategy, again he has the white men disappear from the text and turns his attention to renewed hostilities between the people and “the discontented, who. . . . [having] increased greatly in numbers” during the intervening years, are now “threatening to do violence among the people who are living in the extreme southern part of the country” (Nicolar, 174–75). Because only a paragraph break separates the watchmen’s report about the “hairy” Europeans from this latest insult from “the discontented,” the two events are linked by proximity in the narrative. Yet there is no suggestion of causality. Instead, there is a kind of substitution. Where earlier the loon woman had suggested that the contest between the people and the white man would play out as an opposition between spiritual powers, Nicolar now casts the Indian war in the same terms. What created among the people a feeling “so bitter it was almost beyond control” is the discovery that the attacks on those to the south were “the works of the spiritual men of the enemy.” Clearly, this is a transgressive abuse of their shamanic powers. In reaction, “the old men . . . immediately called in all of their spiritual men whom they urged to begin an operation against the enemy.” “Thus,” comments Nicolar, “the red man’s war was declared and begun.” Unsurprisingly, because the leaders on both sides “were the spiritual men, . . . therefore some very curious tactics were resorted to” (Nicolar, 175). The lengthy narrative that follows is rich with details of Native fighting tactics, shamanic warfare practices, and notations of brief intervals of peace. As a result, despite the paragraphs about the European arrival, chapter five is almost wholly occupied with Indian–Indian relations: first the warfare between what seem to be Algonquian groups, warfare which then melds almost seamlessly into battles

62 In t ro d u ct ion

between Algonquians and Mohawks, an Iroquoian-speaking people. Modern readers are often confused by such conflations. After all, through most of chapter five, Nicolar appears to be describing hostilities between Algonquian-speaking peoples who were once united but subsequently became divided, some seceding to the south. But with the opening of chapter six, Nicolar identifies “these scattered people” as those who eventually came together “and called themselves the ‘May-Quay,’ May-May people, and after many years were known as the Mohawks.” Nicolar thereby suggests that he has all along been retelling the fabled Mohawk Wars, the subject of innumerable Penobscot and Passamaquoddy stories told and retold until well into the twentieth century (184).27 The conflation makes a certain thematic sense if we understand the core events that link the two quite disparate pieces of history. Despite commonalities of language and culture, over time, and for a variety of reasons, Algonquian-speaking peoples separated from one another, sought new territories, became independent tribes, and engaged in inter-tribal wars with one another. Similarly, there is archeological evidence, as well as old traditions in both groups, that, long before the arrival of Europeans, Iroquoian and Algonquian peoples lived side by side in the Saint Lawrence River Valley. The Algonquians say that the Iroquois eventually tried to take them over, forcing the Algonquians to drive them out. The Iroquois cite themselves as those who suffered under Algonquian dominance, thus leading them finally to leave the Saint Lawrence and migrate south to what then became their homelands in New York State. Eventually they, too, splintered into different tribes and made war upon one another. It is this common core—those who once lived together divide, scatter, and end up fighting one another—that allowed Nicolar to meld Algonquian tribal history into the history of the Algonquian wars with the members of the League of the Iroquois, specifically the Mohawks. As chapter six unfolds, what are now clearly the Mohawk Wars continue, punctuated by “an exciting news . . . brought from the extreme north to the effect, that the white man’s big canoe had come again, and had landed its people who are still remaining on the land on the north shore of the ‘Ma-quozz-bem-to-cook, Lake River,’ and have planted some heavy blocks of wood in the form of a cross” (Nicolar, 184–85).28 Nicolar describes them in some detail: “These



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

63

people are white and the lower part of the faces of the elder ones are covered with hair, and the hair is in different colors, and the eyes are not alike, some have dark while others have light colored eyes, some have eyes the color of the blue sky” (Nicolar, 185). This description only imperfectly matches that of the earlier strangers who “were not white as the snow, and not so white as the people expected them to be, but were brown and hairy” (Nicolar, 169). Whether these new arrivals follow upon—or are related to—any of the earlier sightings of white people is never made clear, thereby reinforcing the text’s implied suggestion of multiple early explorations by Europeans. So often has the white man’s arrival been predicted and sighted that this latest news occasions “no excitement.” The Native people simply view this landing as “an old affair” (Nicolar, 185). Therefore, the issue for them is neither the uniqueness of the arrival nor the singularity of contact but, rather, “what kind of treatment [the whites] will extend to the red people” (Nicolar, 185). Despite all the warnings from Klose-kur-beh in earlier chapters, the news from “the extreme north” seems promising. The whites “have shown nothing only friendship, they take the red man’s hands in their own and bow their heads down and make many signs in the direction of the stars” (Nicolar, 185). If this kind of behavior continues, the Native people believe “it . . . will be the means of bringing happiness to both races” (Nicolar, 185). And as Nicolar chooses to tell the story, this is precisely what happened. The white man gives “his hand as a brother”—a sign of equal status—so “no hostilities toward him was talked, nor even thought of ” (Nicolar, 185, 186). As a result, “the red man of the north never had any trouble with the white man” (185). Given the long history of warfare between indigenous populations and European settler groups in North America, this statement may seem disingenuous—that is, until we realize that Nicolar is probably referring to the generally amicable relations between the Algonquian-speaking peoples of Maine and New France and the French, their partners in trade and their allies in battles against the Iroquois League.29 That these arrivals are the French is strongly suggested by Nicolar’s emphasis on their missionary zeal. As Nicolar notes, “the most striking character of his works was in his endeavors in converting the people to become believers in his spiritual teach-

64 In t ro d u ct ion

ings” (186). With the notable exception of a relatively few ministers like John ­Eliot (1604–90) and Roger Williams (1603–83), this could not be said of the early English. But even if these white strangers “have shown nothing only friendship,” Nicolar is not unmindful of the difficult situation in which his ancestors found themselves. “Here, on one side a strange people have begun to plant themselves almost in their midst, while on the other, their own people making raids upon their weakest points” (Nicolar, 185). The reference to raiding by “their own people” may allude to the period between 1607 and 1615, sometimes called the Tarrantine Wars, when the Micmacs—another eastern Algonquian group allied with and armed by their French trading partners—repeatedly attacked a coalition of Maine tribes led by the Penobscot.30 The emphasis on “their own people” suggests not only Algonquian consanguinity, however. It also suggests Nicolar’s knowledge of a postcontact Algonquian pan-tribal consciousness that became even more pronounced as many Algonquian tribes allied themselves with the French and banded together against their longtime enemies, the tribes within the Iroquois League—especially the Mohawk—who had developed their own trade partnerships with the Dutch and the British.31 Yet the raids by “their own people” could just as easily allude to incursions by the Mohawks, in which case the phrase expresses Nicolar’s own nineteenth-century sense of a general pan-Indian consanguinity and solidarity. Possibly, he intended both. The reference to a “strange people” beginning to “plant themselves” in the Indians’ midst most obviously refers to the French settlements in Canada and Maine. But the sentence could also be alluding to a slightly later and different planting. For, by 1626, English colonists from Plymouth were trading with the Maine tribes, and “within a few years, [English] settlers were following traders into the tidewater area of Maine west of the Penobscot” (Snow, “Eastern Abenaki,” 140). Clearly, several possible referents and a great deal of history have been collapsed into a single sentence, its author uninterested in the details. The story Nicolar wants to tell is about the confederated Algonquians’ final defeat of the Mohawks and the peace that ensued. And he wants to tell it as an Indian story. Yet briefly and between the lines, Nicolar allows the white man to intrude. “Although the white man has given his hand as a brother, yet,”



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

65

hesitates Nicolar, there is great “distrust on the part of the red man . . . which had been led to it by the action and bad conduct of the May-Quays” (Nicolar, 185). The unidentified connection between the Indians’ distrust of the white man and the “bad conduct” of the Mohawks only makes sense if the Europeans are somehow causally implicated in that “bad conduct.” Given the many shifting alliances between Native peoples and the French, English, and Dutch in competition for control of the fur trade in the seventeenth century, as well as the continued shifts in allegiances between Native groups and the French and English in the eighteenth century, this statement too could have several different referents. But at the very least it hints at attempts by both the English and the French to ally themselves with Algonquians and Iroquoians alike, often playing off one tribe against another or simultaneously claiming loyalty to—and arming—tribes with long histories of enmity between them. More to the point, perhaps, is Nicolar’s almost cryptic linking of the increasingly intolerable “works of those terrible May-Quays,” the significantly increased numbers of Native peoples who have become “not only believers, but followers of the white man’s doctrine,” and the agreement “to make a general aggressive move” through a “federation” of northern tribes (Nicolar, 186). Again, a great deal of history is being compressed and conflated, but that history is well known. Throughout the seventeenth century, the French expanded their trading posts and consolidated their trading alliances along the Saint Lawrence River and in Maine. Along with the trading posts, French missionary priests successfully established missions and ministries among the Native villages, so that, by the early decades of the eighteenth century, most northeastern Algonquian groups and even a splinter group of Mohawks (who had removed from upstate New York to a village on the Saint Lawrence in Canada) were both converted to Catholicism and politically allied with French interests.32 Meanwhile, the Dutch and English established their own trading networks in New York and Massachusetts, in the process consolidating both trade partnerships and political alliances with tribes from the Iroquois League. By the eighteenth century, the English had supplanted the Dutch and were increasingly pressing their claims to Maine. Caught in the middle, the Penobscots repeatedly attempted to remain neutral, trading with the English while tied by religion and

66 In t ro d u ct ion

affection to their French “brothers.” But as English colonizers—aided by Iroquois raids—overran Penobscot territory, in 1754 and 1755 the Penobscot began attacking the English settlements in Maine. For their part, the French began preparing for all-out war with the English over their mutually contested claims to empire in Maine and Canada. As part of that preparation, the French encouraged their mission villages along the Saint Lawrence to organize themselves into what came to be called the Federation of Seven Fires or the Seven Nations of Canada. In order to more effectively fend off the English and their Iroquois League allies, the Penobscot and the other Maine tribes were drawn into alliance with the Seven Nations of Canada. This is the “act of federation . . . adopted by all the north” to which Nicolar refers (186). By all but eliminating the details of European involvement, however, Nicolar maintains the impression that these were Indian wars, fought on Indian lands, for exclusively Indian political and military ends. Thus, not until the closing two paragraphs of chapter six, following the conclusion of “all the wars among the red people,” does the white man reappear (Nicolar, 194). As the final paragraph of chapter six hints, the ultimate consequences of that reappearance are as yet unclear: At about this period another white man came in his big canoe and landed on the shore of the eastern coast almost in the midst of the northern country, on a high island very near the spot where Klosekur-beh and the dog killed the first moose. Here the white man planted his cross, and here he lingered until after many other white men came. Here the red man received the religion of the white man. The red man was now ready to be converted and resigned himself to wait for the future fate that may come. (Nicolar, 194)

By locating this arrival “very near the spot where Klose-kur-beh and the dog killed the first moose,” Nicolar gives referential primacy to the space as first and foremost an Indian space. This tactic at once reminds readers of the precontact traditional roots of Native culture (as elaborated in earlier chapters) and also quietly installs the white man in a landscape that, long before his coming, was rich with history and symbolic significance. The planting of the cross, therefore, does not erase or supplant what has gone before. Instead, it marks



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

67

“the spot” that, like a geographical archive, already contains associations with something prior and momentous. Having earlier cited the permanence of European settlement in the headnote to chapter six (“The arrival and settlement of the white man”) and now having stated explicitly that “many other white men came,” Nicolar yet refrains from saying what that has meant or will mean in the future, acknowledging only the fact of conversion (194). Instead, he ends chapter six with what at first reading may appear to be a curiously passive construction of the Indian: “The red man . . . now . . . resigned himself to wait for the future fate that may come.” The key here is the verb “may” (rather than “will” or Klose-kur-beh’s prophetic “shall”). This intentionally conditional verb form is used to suggest that the final outcome really is still undecided. Which of Klose-kur-beh’s prophecies will ultimately unfold depends on the actions of both the whites and the Indians. The white man could avoid his dire fate, but only if he changes his ways. The red man, “now on the descending slide scale to a point not yet settled,” could yet survive and prosper, but only if—unlike the white man who forgot the teachings of the Great Spirit—he does not forget the teachings of Klosekur-beh (Nicolar, 195). And Klose-kur-beh and the loon woman had both warned, “You shall be happy until you have fallen into the ways of these people” (Nicolar, 165; my emphasis). Therefore, even if the whites did destroy themselves, the Native people would be no better off if they persist in enacting all the negative traits that Klose-kurbeh has associated with whites. In that event, for Indians too “the sweetness of the earth and the love of power will destroy them.” In Nicolar’s mind, this constituted the prophetic import of his text for those he called “the red man,” his main intended readership. And the choice was theirs. In short, Nicolar has offered his people a construction of history in which they have always had—and do still have— both choice and agency.

* 6 *

Whether Native or non-Native, in 1893 every reader knew what the “future fate” had already wrought for Native peoples: loss of traditional lands and lifeways, war, disease, poverty, massive population

68 I n t ro d uct ion

declines and, in many areas, forced assimilation. In Maine, the Penobscot had long been adapting to radically changed and changing circumstances. But negotiating the often conflicting claims of tradition and adaptation was never easy. During Nicolar’s lifetime, many different issues repeatedly divided the Penobscots into feuding factions. The “Old Party,” with which Nicolar was identified, advocated continuing the traditional system of hereditary lifetime chiefs and sub-chiefs. A second group, the “New Party,” advocated elected governors. And a so-called “Third Party” sided with neither. The disagreements were not confined only to questions of governance, however. As the nineteenth century wore on and the Penobscots increasingly faced the pressures of modernity, they argued over religious differences, over how best to educate their children, and over how to survive in a competitive wage economy without entirely giving up their sense of communal identity. As a member of the Old Party and the grandson of John Neptune, once a powerful hereditary sub-chief (or lieutenant governor), Nicolar followed his grandfather in favoring traditional hereditary leadership patterns. Yet he and other Old Party members also insisted that Penobscot children be permitted to attend Maine’s public schools and university and receive as much formal education as possible.33 What concerned him, though, was that this kind of adaptation might eventually erase indigenous ethical systems, historical memory, and, with these, his peoples’ cultural distinctiveness. After all, if “the old traditional story tellers have all gone to the happy hunting ground,” then knowledge of “the simple and natural state of the life, habits and ways” of his people “as they [once] existed” could be forever lost to the Penobscots (Nicolar, 96, 95). And what little remained might become the exclusive property of non-Native folklore collectors, curious antiquarians, anthropologists, and ethnologists. In the face of this disturbing possibility, Nicolar intervened with an assertion of Native capacity for self-representation. In so doing, what he chose to leave out of his narrative is perhaps as telling as what he decided to include. For example, with the exception of the “very dense fog” that renders “the supply of food . . . scant,” associated with the arrival of white men, Nicolar attributes famine and disease solely to changing climatic conditions by retelling an old transformation story. A strange boy appears who turns out to be “the frost, the son of the air,” and prepares the people for the advent of harsher winters



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

69

(164, 142). The imminent arrival of “ ‘Pa-poon,’ winter,” thus provides Nicolar an occasion for reciting traditional knowledge about dress, food, medicinal herbs, and everything else required to “prepare yourselves in everything for the five moons [i.e., the five months of winter] which I [the frost] claim” (Nicolar, 147). Nowhere is there a hint of the decimating effects of seriatim epidemics of European diseases or the English colonial militias that repeatedly hounded Algonquian tribes from their traditional hunting territories and sacked their cultivated fields. Had Nicolar told these stories of illness and famine, he would also have had to acknowledge the massive death tolls of the most vulnerable—the very young and the very old—and with that, the repeated disruption of the orderly passing on of the wisdom and skills of the elders to the young (see MacDougall, The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 59). In short, he would have had to portray the ongoing short-circuiting of cultural memory.34 Similarly, all the warfare portrayed is between Native opponents using exclusively Native weaponry. For example, in the final warfare described by Nicolar, the precipitating factor is “the works of those terrible May-Quay’s”; the prosecution of the war, on both sides, is identified as wholly Indian; the termination of the war follows upon the two opposing war chiefs’ recognition that they have each abused “the spiritual power that was in them”; and the lasting peace is secured by uniquely Native devices, a wampum treaty belt and the rituals of the grand council fire (Nicolar, 186, 189). And Nicolar presents the war this way despite the fact that, as his text subsequently reveals, its culmination was clearly a postcontact eighteenth-century affair. Yet had Nicolar tried to tell a story about hostilities with Europeans, he would have had to include the infamous massacre of the Norridgewocks by the English in 1724 and the complete destruction of their village on the Kennebec, that horror from which his ancestor had barely escaped with his life. Because events like this happened over and over during the colonial wars, northeastern Algonquian populations became increasingly mixed as survivors fled to remaining villages; and Algonquian cultures became more homogenous as entire villages and tribal groups disappeared as separate entities (see MacDougall, The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 57–59). In short, to tell this story, Nicolar would again have been forced to acknowledge radical cultural loss. But continuity and survival—rather than loss—were his central

70 In t ro d u ct ion

themes. This explains why his narrative devotes so little attention to European arrivals or to the details of postcontact Native and white interactions. In other words, Nicolar was determined to evade the ruptures of history and offer his people the mythos of an ineradicable continuum by claiming to record “the full account of all the pure traditions which have been handed down from the beginning of the red man’s world” (Nicolar, 95). Upon these traditions, he hoped, the Penobscots might build for the future. For these purposes, the white man served not so much as a historical figure but more as a useful dramatic foil. Throughout the text, both explicitly and implicitly, the ways of the white man and the red man are repeatedly compared and contrasted. Where the white man exploits the material world selfishly “for comfort sake,” Klose-kurbeh teaches that there is spirit and wisdom in talking trees, in redheaded woodpeckers, “and in all the things which your eyes can see” (Nicolar, 113, 115). Where the white man exercises greed, “slay[ing] his brother because he wants all things,” the Indians of old “had been instructed from childhood to help and provide for the old and infirm” (Nicolar, 112, 160). Where the white man cannot always be trusted, Nicolar insists that “in those [precontact] days a man of falsehood was not known among” the Indians (174). Then, bringing his narrative into the postcontact era, he concludes with an anecdote that again illustrates the white man’s love of “power and possession” in contrast to the Indians’ culture of sharing (112). “Just previous to the coming of the white man,” Nicolar tells his readers, the Indians discovered a mineral spring with healing powers. Because the water “was considered very valuable, . . . the spot was visited by all the people from all parts of the country” (199). No one wanted “to quit, nor go without enjoying the great benefit of this medicine water,” and so visits continued even “after the white man came.” But “the white man took possession of it” and, at the time of Nicolar’s writing, the spring belongs to “an individual, a white man, of the town of Deering, Maine.” The implication, of course, is that the medicinal waters bubbling “out of the earth” are no longer available to “all the people from all parts of the country” (Nicolar, 199–200). By concluding his text with this seemingly innocuous anecdote, Nicolar quietly reinforces Klose-kur-beh’s prophecy that the white man will never change his ways. He will continue, as always, to “reach forth his hand to grasp all things for his [own] comfort” (Nicolar,



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

71

113). In contrast, asserts Nicolar, Native peoples can change and, as his narrative demonstrates, have been changing throughout their existence. Informed by the spiritual teachings of Klose-kur-beh and the shamanic instruction of “the son of the air,” later called No-chigar-neh, Native peoples are able to recognize when they have abused their powers, and they can act effectively to mend their ways. Although there are instances of this throughout the text, nowhere does Nicolar make the point more forcefully than in his complex and multilayered depiction of the termination of “all the wars among the red people” (194). In Nicolar’s retelling of these events, the Wabanaki Confederacy is now allied with the Huron, Ottawa, and others against the May-Quay (or Mohawks) and their Iroquoian allies. After years of warfare, the Wabanaki and their allies are gaining the upper hand. In what is to be a decisive battle, two opposing war chiefs—and their warriors—confront one another in fierce combat “up the mountain” (Nicolar, 189). As the battle drags on without a clear victor, the war chiefs “both get exasperated.” In consequence, “both at the same moment determined to bring the matters to a close by making one great and last effort.” Invoking traditional beliefs that many of the old leaders became leaders because they possessed shamanic powers, Nicolar has the two war chiefs “decid[ing] to use the spiritual power that was in them, which both had been hesitating to bring to bear upon their fellowmen; knowing that when they use it in that way, it will depart from them forever” (Nicolar, 189–90). But use it they do. “Both at the same moment, unbeknown to each, . . . gave the earth a violent stamp with the right foot, at the same time throwing his war weapons savagely on the earth,” and, together, brought on “a severe earthquake [that] . . . not only shook things, but the earth itself parted and swallowed up both forces” (190). “Only the two leaders on both sides [are left] standing.” “Listening to the screeches . . . issuing from under the earth where these poor men are forever shut up,” the two war chiefs are forced to acknowledge “what they had done.” They now know “that by using and abusing the spiritual power in the manner they did, was a sufficient cause for them to lose the art, so they both advanced to each other, shook hands, and made peace over the chasm” (Nicolar, 190). They then become the catalysts for what Nicolar portrays as a lasting peace between the warring tribes. Echoing in the background of this scene is the language of three

72 In t ro d u ct ion

earlier passages. In chapter four, No-chi-gar-neh, who represents climatic and seasonal change and identifies himself as the son of “the spirit of the air,” instructs the seven original shamans (or spiritual men). Because the role of the shamans is to “bring great comfort to yourselves and also to all your people,” No-chi-gar-neh warns that they “must never . . . use your power upon or against your brother in any contention. Do not abuse one another with this power” (Nicolar, 153, 152). “Whoever abuses this power,” he continues, “shall lose it” (Nicolar, 152). Despite their initial hesitation “to bring [the power] to bear upon their fellowmen,” the two war chiefs do abuse “the spiritual power that was in them” and so “lose the art.” Clearly, they have defied a culturally potent injunction. The earthquake that swallows the two opposing forces also has antecedents in the text. When the white man shows neither “humiliation” nor “obedience” and fails to repent his killing of the Great Spirit, Klose-kur-beh predicts that “the Great Spirit shall show the man His power” by “shak[ing] the earth” and causing “the [white] people” to fall into “great pits. . . . And the powerful man shall be no more” (Nicolar, 113). Later, the loon woman declares that the white men whose ship floats out at sea have misused their spiritual powers and thereby brought on the famine-inducing fog. She foretells a similar retribution: “The man of will and might shall enjoy his own way until all the land he occupies shakes until it shall open, wherein he shall fall, and shall not have the power to get out.” While the resonances between these two last passages and the outcome of the battle on the mountain remind readers that the red man, as much as the white man, is capable of abusing his spiritual powers, so too these resonances also point to crucial differences. Unlike Klose-kur-beh’s “powerful man” and the loon woman’s “man of will and might,” the war chiefs have misused their “spiritual power,” but they have not also abused “the water, air and earth” (Nicolar, 113). Moreover, the war chiefs recognize immediately that they have misused their “spiritual power” and confront the price that has been paid for that abuse: their loss of the power and their armies trapped and crying out from beneath the earth. Precisely because the two leaders are able to recognize the enormity of their misdeed, they are able to do what, as spiritual men, they were all along intended to do: that is, “bring great comfort . . . to all your people.” They agree to a compromise which leads to peace. The implicit message of this



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

73

version of the end of the Indians’ wars with one another is that when men of “will and might” overreach—as have the two leaders when they abuse their “spiritual power”—the outcome must be horrific. Nature itself will recoil. It is a lesson the Indians have learned well, Nicolar suggests. When they hear what has transpired on the mountain, all sides make a solemn commitment to live in peace “with all the people in all times to come.” But Nicolar nowhere suggests that the white man has learned this same lesson nor recognized that he too has abused and misused the spiritual power that is in him.35 In order to solemnize the peace, a peace treaty “was made, and to make it lasting,” the terms of the treaty were symbolically “woven into a wampum band,” its “different characters . . . representing what the band was made for and who are concerned in it” (Nicolar, 192). As part of the treaty agreement, “a place was selected where a grand council fire was to be located and established, where all the heads” of previously warring tribes and clans “shall go once in seven years to renew the council fire and talk over matters for the general good” (Nicolar, 191–92). The defeated Mohawks are selected “to take care of the council fire, and whenever a delegation comes to the grand council fire to renew it, they shall furnish food for all that come and shall furnish shelter and give all necessary comfort during the stay of the delegation without pay” (Nicolar, 192). The site chosen for the council fire was Caughnawaga, Quebec, where a splinter group of Mohawks converted to Catholicism by the French had long been established. The Penobscot community at Old Town occasionally functioned as a secondary or alternate site. The “grand council fire,” it should be understood, is not literally a fire or flame but, rather, a place that functions as the symbolic hearth where delegates from farflung tribes can congregate periodically and, through various rituals and councils, metaphorically “renew” the flame—and, thereby, the alliance. Speck explains that “the organization was symbolized as a great fire kindled by all the members in common for the maintenance of the warmth which was essential to their perpetual friendship. Lest the fire burn too low it had to be fed with symbolical firebrands by the tribal delegates at the regular meetings” (“The Eastern Algonkian Wabanaki Confederacy,” 496).36 Nicolar’s text is one of the few reliable sources from which ethnologists and anthropologists have been able to glean details of what actually transpired at these regular meetings.37 But while Nicolar

74 In t ro d u ct ion

supplies some fascinating glimpses into the rituals and insists that the peace informing those rituals did “stand forever,” he makes clear that the grand council fire itself did not. It functioned well for many years, with the Mohawks faithful to their promised duties. Yet “after a long while [the May-Quays] wanted to be the commander, wanted to be boss, this the people could not tolerate, and quit going there” (Nicolar, 192–93). In fact, adds Nicolar, “the last visit made from the east was only fifty-three years ago, and some of the young men that went with the old men on that last visit are still living” (Nicolar, 193). This sentence is Nicolar’s only attempt to situate any portion of his narrative within living memory and to give it a definite date. Written in 1892 or 1893, the statement places the cessation of Penobscot participation in the grand council fire at about 1840, although most historians, both non-Native and indigenous, place the year closer to 1862. The discrepancy may derive from the facts of Penobscot politics during Nicolar’s lifetime. There is some—albeit highly questionable— evidence that, in the ongoing disputes between the Old Party and the New Party, the New Party appealed to the council fire at Caughnawaga for support; and that support was forthcoming (see Eckstorm, Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans, 158–59). If this is accurate, then, as a few historians speculate, members of the Old Party may have withdrawn from further participation in the council fire while New Party members (and the neighboring Passamaquoddy tribe) continued to visit Caughnawaga until the 1860s (see Walker et al., “A Chronological Account of the Wabanaki Confederacy,” 74). As a member of the Old Party, Nicolar would have recognized only that party’s actions as legitimate and discounted the legality of the New Party’s right to represent the Penobscots at Caughnawaga. Yet this would seem to introduce a level of partisanship that is not elsewhere evident in Nicolar’s text. Given his larger goals—to preserve traditions and create at least a semblance of cultural continuity—it is more likely that Nicolar intended this passage to convey something other than personal partisanship. The breakdown of the council fire, an alliance that had worked well for “a long while,” is a loss. And the cause of that breakdown— the Mohawks’ assertion of dominance—threatens the older pattern of consensual shared leadership “for the general good” on which the council fire had originally been based. While this was surely a glanc-



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

75

ing comment on the factionalism that had so long divided the Penobscots, it was purposefully couched in an ostensibly historical statement about the Mohawks. Stirring up old local animosities was not Nicolar’s purpose. Having been elected six different times to serve as the tribe’s delegate to the Maine State Legislature—more often than any other delegate of his era—Nicolar knew that his peoples’ survival depended on their speaking in a single unified voice for the “general good,” especially in the face of the state’s paternalism and blatantly anti-Indian policies. The tacit warning in the passage, therefore, is about the danger of any one group “want[ing] to be boss” and thereby threatening the unity of the larger whole. Indeed, the very act of composing this book may be seen as Nicolar’s attempt to forge a kind of antecedent cultural unity for future generations of Penobscots in the face of a chaotic and fragmenting past. Here was a compendium of stories, ethical codes, and spiritual traditions that all might share as common ground. Aware that he was writing for a people radically altered since contact and still facing a precarious and uncertain future, Nicolar nonetheless succeeded in reducing at least the narrative impact (since he could hardly reduce the historical impact) of all those Europeans and Euroamericans who came to explore, to possess the land, or to “plant blocks of wood in the form of a cross.” He therefore managed to avoid telling only a tale of dispossession, cultural erosion, and ongoing religious accommodation. That tale, as he well knew, too easily played into Euroamerican master narratives about the Vanishing Indian.

* 7 *

How shall we approach this unique, surprising, and sometimes difficult text? To date, anthropologists, ethnologists, ethnohistorians, and folklore specialists have been content to mine Nicolar’s book for its detailed descriptions of traditional material culture, for its wealth of stories, for its hints about shamanistic practices, and for its account of activities at the great council fire at Caughnawaga. In contrast, most historians of the colonial and early national periods have largely ignored Nicolar, frustrated by the difficulty of aligning his narrative with any corresponding Euroamerican chronology of battles, significant occurrences, or identifiable priestly arrivals. The

76 In t ro d u ct ion

problem derives from the fact that Nicolar resolutely refuses to implicate the white man, French or English, in the battles he depicts, combined with the fact that he employs a number of Penobscot place names that have fallen into disuse and been forgotten over the centuries. These strategies render many of his scenes difficult to date or locate. But then, Nicolar wasn’t writing history—or ethnography or anthropology or folklore, for that matter. He was storytelling, transferring an oral practice to the written page. A brief discussion of Wabanaki storytelling practices in general and Penobscot practices in particular may be in order here. In general, among most of the Wabanaki tribes, the storyteller’s craft demands a certain level of narrative coherence, interesting content, and above all, relevance to present circumstances and to the audience(s) being addressed. When retelling one or more old traditional stories—as from the familiar fund of tales about Klose-kur-beh (or Gluscap)—the old storytellers were authorized (indeed expected) to transfer elements from one story cycle to another and/or to reorganize elements in a story so as to emphasize some particular aspect of that story for the present moment and audience. In this way, the same story could have many different versions over time and carry multiple meanings. Old stories can also be updated. As Penobscot tribal historian, James Eric Francis, explains, it is common practice for an old story that involves a journey by canoe on water to be retold in such a way that the journey now becomes a car driving along a highway.38 In short, there is no single fixed text in these oral transmissions. There were, however, certain essential conventions to be observed. Penobscot storytellers habitually express “modesty,” insisting “that they cannot tell the story as it deserves” (Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 35). Nicolar does precisely this in his preface when he insists that he lacks “the proper education to do such work” (96). Yet, like the traditional storytellers, he presses on anyway: “However, I have undertaken the work and have done it in my own way” (Nicolar, 96). In claiming to relate “traditions . . . handed down from the beginning of the red man’s world,” Nicolar was claiming to recover a world without calendars and without the means of (or need for) chronicling events year-by-year in the European manner (Nicolar, 95; my emphasis). As all the old stories made clear, for the ancient Penobscot, the marking of time had become ritualized, with combinations



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

77

of the spiritual number seven denoting longer or shorter passages of time. Specific or noteworthy human occurrences were often remembered as associated with seasonal changes, with dramatic climatic shifts, natural phenomena, or cosmological events. When their oral culture was still intact, the Penobscots would have found these devices wholly sufficient for the passing on of significant tribal history, and Nicolar both honored and employed these time-marker conventions in his text. That said, we ought not to take literally Nicolar’s claim, in his preface, that he was offering “the full account of all the pure traditions which have been handed down” (95; my emphasis). By the end of the nineteenth century, much of the oral culture had been lost. Moreover, by the time Nicolar was growing up, the Penobscot had long included “a large number of the offspring of neighboring Wabanaki peoples and [even some] Europeans” (Speck, Penobscot Man, 15). And just as the tribe was itself now “blended with other Wabanaki communities,” so too were its stories and customs a blend of multiple traditions, Euroamerican influences, and remnant memories from many different tribal groups (Speck, Penobscot Man, 16). The highly romanticized nineteenth-century Euroamerican notion of the pure and authentic Indian was always a fiction; and it certainly hadn’t applied to the Penobscot for over two centuries. Yet the old ways of storytelling still applied, giving Nicolar the freedom to select among the various traditions available to him—Christian, Euroamerican, and indigenous—in order to meld them into an internally interconnected, if syncretic, text. Thus, Nicolar disassembled the many story elements gathered from the several tribes and tribal traditions that comprised the Penobscot Nation in the late nineteenth century and then reassembled and conflated those story elements into a single sustained narrative that told an Indian story from an Indian point of view. The result is a written text that still retains some of the elements of its oral sources. These include sometimes awkward stops and starts in narrative continuity as new material is suddenly introduced, occasionally awkward transitions or unclear references, stylized phrasings, and repetitions. For these reasons, the narrative does not always feel either sustained or coherent. Further complicating the transition from orality to written form is Nicolar’s ambitious attempt to synthesize many different kinds of stories and many different kinds of information. In everyday Penobscot life as Nicolar knew it, recipes

78 In t ro d u ct ion

for preparing food, instructions for carrying fire, information about ceremonial practices, shamanic lore, Gluscap stories, and tales of the Mohawk Wars would have been quite distinct from one another and widely dispersed in their cultural functioning. They would not be yoked together in any single articulation. Yet in his eagerness to preserve and rearticulate his peoples’ unique identity in the face of ongoing U.S. colonialism, Nicolar did try to yoke it all together, even if his synthesis was not always seamless. In other words, by weaving together such disparate materials, Nicolar was inevitably stretching the conventions of storytelling and thereby emphasizing orality’s frequent stops and starts, its persistent changes in narrative focus. In oral transmission, of course, the speaker could expect frequent interruptions, as his listeners offered various utterances of interest, laughed, or exclaimed (see Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Other Religious Beliefs,” 35). In oral transmission, also, any ambiguities would have been clarified by means of the speaker’s gestures, facial expressions, vocal pitch, or emphasis. But Nicolar had only his pen. Even so, despite the challenge of moving from the spoken to the written word, Nicolar created a work that perfectly comports with the Micmac ethnologist Evan T. Pritchard’s description of the traditional story cycles of the Eastern Algonquian peoples: “tales of the great past, and prophecies of the future, but . . . all related to the now” (Pritchard, No Word for Time, 12). In other words, Nicolar preserved the spirit of Penobscot storytelling even if he could not preserve “all the pure traditions.”39 Still, Nicolar’s assertion of presenting “all” and “pure” traditions was purposeful and intended to serve him in two ways. First, it was meant to attract a white readership, including both a contemporary general public curious to better know the exotic and ever-vanishing Indian as well as subsequent generations of ethnologists, folklorists, and anthropologists eager to believe in “the possibility of the study of aboriginal Penobscot culture” (Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Other Religious Beliefs,” 2). Second, and more important, that assertion reinforced the viability of indigenous self-representation and allowed his text to compete with non-Native researchers for control of what would be passed on of Native culture. The powerful Smithsonian Institution might send out researchers to collect Native artifacts and display them in the National Museum, but Nicolar’s text could ex-



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

79

plain their origins, how they were made, and what they meant to the people who created and used them. Yet it was not in order to provide captions for Smithsonian exhibits that Nicolar ended his volume with an overview of “the daily life and convenience[s]” of his people (195). Nor did he offer his closing manual of traditional material culture because he wanted his people to revive some pristine precontact past. As his own framed two-story wooden house on Indian Island demonstrated, Penobscot material culture had been radically and forever altered. By the time Nicolar was writing, Penobscot survival depended upon participation in the white man’s economy and technology. The glance backward at traditional crafts was a way of expressing not only respect for the ingenuity of the past, but also a means of preserving the understanding that these craft skills had once sustained a people’s “daily life” as opposed to merely providing souvenirs for tourists. Therefore, following chapter six, Nicolar added a section titled simply “Conclusion,” because his story would not be complete without it. Important in this decision was Nicolar’s regard for the Penobscot belief in the spiritual power of the number seven. By providing a seventh segment, the Conclusion anchors the structure of the book to a numerical organizational principle that still had resonance for Penobscot readers. But the actual content of the Conclusion suggests something else also. “I deem it expedient, before coming to the final close with this work,” writes Nicolar, “to give the fullest account possible, of the daily life and convenience[s] of these people who are now on the descending slide scale to a point not yet settled” (195). However, his manual of traditional material culture—how to make and preserve fire, construct a canoe, use a hook and line for fishing, and so on—strongly suggests that the “descending slide” is neither inevitable nor necessary. As in every previous chapter, what Nicolar demonstrates is that those now on a “descending slide” have historically been embraced by systems of cultural belief that empowered them to remain resourceful, even ingenious, in adapting to the physical environments in which they lived. This is the heritage that will ensure the Penobscots’ survival, even under the unhappy present circumstances forced upon them by the white man. Thus, much like the book as a whole, the Conclusion serves as a kind of return to precontact beginnings, not to resurrect the past but, rather, to remind his people

80 In t ro d uct ion

that Penobscot traditions from the past are dynamic and remain vital, ongoing, and sustaining. They are not to be forgotten. This is the goal that motivates Nicolar’s project and the key to understanding his considerable achievement.

* Notes * All citations to the Nicolar text in this introduction refer to page numbers in this new edition, following. 1  The rolls of the Maine State Legislature list Joseph Nicolar as the representative of the Penobscot Tribe for the years 1859, 1860, 1865, 1885, 1889, and 1893. Nicolar’s descendent and great-great-grand-nephew, Eric Nicolar, informs me that even though Joseph Nicolar was listed in the rolls for 1893, he was actually too ill to take his seat that year; he died in February 1894. While Joseph Nicolar seems consistently to have spelled his surname with a final r, other family members spelled the name differently. The differences derive from the fact that French missionary priests customarily baptized their Native converts with saints’ names, in this case St. Nicolas, with the s silent in French. But in the transliteration from French to Penobscot and, later, to English, both the pronunciation and the spelling were many times altered. As a result, over many decades, Penobscot family surnames have included Nicolar, Nicola, Nicolas, Nicholas, and other variants. 2  The relevant sentences of the 1871 Indian Appropriation Act (chap. 120, 16 Stat. 544, 566, now codified as 25 United States Code 71) read: “[N]o Indian nation or tribe within the territory of the United States shall [henceforth] be recognized as an independent nation, tribe, or power with whom the United States may contract by treaty. Provided further, That nothing herein contained shall be construed to invalidate or impair the obligation of any treaty heretofore lawfully made with any such Indian nation or tribe.” 3  The 1887 General Allotment Act (also known as the “Dawes Act,” or the “Dawes Severalty Act,” in recognition of one of its main proponents) sought to replace traditional systems of collective and communal tribal land tenure with Euroamerican patterns of private land ownership. Native people were compelled to accept individually deeded land parcels: 160 acres to each head of family and 80 acres to others. Indians were to select their own parcels, but if they failed to do so, the Indian agent was authorized to select land for them. The federal government was to hold title to the allotted land parcels “in trust” for 25 years, thereby preventing sale of the allotted parcels until the Native allottees could treat their lands as real estate. After that period, if they followed certain specified procedures, allottees could sell their lands to non-Natives. Mired in poverty, many did. Any “excess” reservation land not allotted as provided by the Act was to be made available for non-Indian homesteading, corporate investment or utilization, or for inclusion in national parks or forests. While the Act did not entirely eradicate Native “tribalism,” as was intended, it did result



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

81

in the loss of lands supposedly reserved for Native peoples. Between 1887 and 1934 (when the act was repealed), Indian landholdings decreased from 138 million acres to 48 million. 4  When the World’s Columbian Exposition opened in Chicago on October 23, 1892, the nation’s deeply divided and conflicted view of the Indian was on display. Organized around the theme, “A Century of Progress,” one building showcasing U.S. government agencies gave considerable space to exhibits of contemporary Indian lifeways, with a decided emphasis on the success of Indian education (and assimilation) policies. In contrast, the Smithsonian exhibit in that same building included traditional artifacts from the Bureau of Ethnology’s collections. Outdoors, next to the Anthropology Building on the shore of the south lagoon, were the “living exhibits” that tended to create the impression of the Indian as a relic of some bygone stage of human development. The Carlisle Indian Industrial School (1879–1918), housed in the barracks of a former cavalry post in central Pennsylvania, became a model for assimilationist educational policies. Indian children were removed from their families, boarded military-style in the barracks, forbidden to speak their native language, and required to wear shoes rather than moccasins. Boys were issued military-style uniforms, while the girls received prim Victorian-style dresses. Strict discipline was observed, and the children were required to march to and from their classes. In addition to lessons in reading, writing, and arithmetic, the boys were taught trades such as carpentry, tinsmithing, and blacksmithing, and the girls were taught domestic skills like cooking, sewing, and laundering. According to the Penobscot tribal historian James Eric Francis, between 40 and 43 Penobscot children attended the Carlisle School. 5  For the impact of the railroads on the Micmac, see Prins, The Mi’kmaq, 178–79. For Penobscot population statistics since 1720, see Handbook of North American Indians, 15:145, figure 10. 6  His grandfather, known in his later years as Old John Neptune, did not die until 1865 (near the age of one hundred), when Joseph Nicolar was in his late thirties. There can be little doubt that the old shaman and former sub-chief was a lifelong and significant influence on his grandson. According to Eckstorm, the unusual and non-Algonquian surname, Neptune, derives, in tribal traditions, from Europeans who captured some Passamaquoddy Indians “early in the 17th Century” and, recognizing the Indians’ bravery and courage at sea, gave one or more of the captives “the Name [of ] a great man, a God of the Sea” (Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans, 83). Both the Penobscots and the Passamaquoddies were famous for their prowess on the high seas, hunting whales from canoes; so it is not improbable that either French or English admirers named some individuals Neptune s, and the appellation stuck. The surname is found in both tribes. 7  For example, Joseph Nicolar is named as one of only eight tribal members in 1883 deserving of “special mention” for “the amount of crops.” Nicolar is credited with 225 bushels of potatoes, 20 bushels of wheat, 15 bushels of beans, 40 bushels of peas, and 175 bushels of vegetables (Bailey, Report of the Agent of the Penobscot Tribe of Indians, for the Year 1883, 6).

82 In t ro d uct ion 8  Nicolar’s wife, Elizabeth Josephs Nicolar, twenty-one years younger than her husband, was not just adept at basketry. According to Bunny McBride, she was “a born leader” who “often organized social and charitable events on the reservation,” and “in 1895 [the year following her husband’s death] she helped found the Wabanaki Club of Indian Island, which gained membership in the State Federation of Women’s Clubs in 1897” (“Princess Watahwaso,” 93). 9  In that same tribute, George H. Hunt also states that Nicolar had “last fall completed a book which he published under the name of ‘Life and Traditions of the Red Man.’ At the time of his death, which occurred in February last he was engaged in writing a history of the Penobscot Tribe” (Hunt, Report of the Agent of the Penobscot Tribe of Indians for the Year 1894, 10). While The Life and Traditions of the Red Man was published in 1893, no remnant of Nicolar’s manuscript history appears to have survived. 10  In the seventeenth century, French Catholic missionary priests began ministering to the tribes in Maine. It was customary that, when baptized, the Natives receive a Christian name—even if they could not easily pronounce their new name. “Sebattis” is a Penobscot corruption—or mispronunciation—of the French “Jean Baptiste” (or John the Baptist), a name commonly assigned to many Indian converts. Nicolar adopted it as a pen name. 11  In “Princess Watahwaso: Bright Star of the Penobscot,” her fascinating article about the life of Nicolar’s second daughter, Lucy Nicolar Poolaw, McBride persuasively speculates (126 n.8) that Nicolar was also “surely ‘Fox’—the writer of ‘Old Town Island,’ a column that appeared weekly in the Old Town Enterprise during 1888 and 1889.” 12  I quote from an e-mail of August 15, 2005, from Conor McDonough Quinn here because his insightful comments on an earlier draft of this introduction helped me develop this interpretation of Klose-kur-beh’s role. 13  In an unpublished address delivered in Boston in 2002, Chief of the Penobscot Nation, James Sappier, explained Penobscot belief systems as follows: “The Tribe, its members, believe basically [that] one God created all things. As each was created, they received a ‘Spirit,’ as you and I, and the smallest insect. GheChe’Nawais in you and I, is the same GheChe’Nawais in that little plant and animal. . . . GheChe’Nawais, God, is when ‘a little seed opens and life begins.’ ” I am grateful to Chief Sappier for sharing with me his notes for the Boston address. I am also grateful to Penobscot Nation member Carol Dana, who is knowledgeable about Penobscot culture and language; she explained in an e-mail to me dated February 8, 2006, that “The Great being is called Kci-Niwesk and refers to the Essence of Life that is in all things.” 14  For an excellent introduction to these ideas and their popularity, see Robert Bernasconi’s Introduction to American Theories of Polygenesis, I: v– xiii. See also William Stanton’s The Leopard’s Spots, especially 100–109. In some respects, these nineteenth-century theories anticipated the highly contested “multiregionalism” theories of the twenty-first century which hold that modern humans independently evolved in several different places around the world. 15  E-mail communication from Conor McDonough Quinn to Annette Ko‑



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

83

lodny, August 15, 2005. Quinn bases this observation on the as-yet-unpublished manuscript dictionary of the Penobscot language prepared by the late Frank T. Siebert Jr. and on his own comprehensive fluency in the language. 16  Again, I am indebted to Conor McDonough Quinn’s August 15, 2005, e-mail for this information. 17  The Penobscot elder Michael Sockalexis, who has studied Penobscot traditions extensively, suggested to me in private conversation, June 4, 2005, that Gluscap had been turned into “a deceiver” and “negative figure” by “the priests and missionaries,” in their efforts to convert the Penobscots away from their traditional belief systems. Sockalexis is convinced that Frank Speck’s translation of the culture hero’s name is “wrong.” 18  Penobscot tribal historian, James Eric Francis, takes a somewhat different view, suggesting that Nicolar was not so consciously enacting his own agenda but, rather, reflecting “the natural evolution of the ancient traditions.” In an e-mail, dated January 13, 2006, and quoted by permission, Francis explains that traditional and Christian elements were combined in Nicolar’s text not because Nicolar “was deliberate about combining these elements,” but because “stories evolve and if the community is steeped in Christianity then the stories and legends are going to evolve to reflect this.” I wholly agree with Francis’s view of Penobscot culture as dynamic, always changing and incorporating new elements. I think Nicolar also saw culture as dynamic, and that is why, in his book, he felt free to both reflect these syncretized traditions and also re-emphasize or even somewhat re-invent certain aspects of those traditions. I base my interpretation on the fact that Gluscap stories subsequently gathered by Speck (and others) among the Penobscot do not repeat many of the overdetermined Christianized elements to be found in Nicolar, especially Klose-kur-beh’s creation and instruction by a Great Being. This may explain why other Penobscot traditional storytellers observed to Speck, around 1910, that “Nicolar gilded his material with Catholicism in accord with his own fancies” (Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 7 n.1). 19  The loon was one of those fowl (along with ducks and geese) that served in the old stories as Klose-kur-beh’s scouts, bringing messages of warning or danger. The plaintive cry of the loon was often associated with lamentation or mourning. And there is an old Penobscot hunters’ belief that “when loons cry at night the wind will blow next day” (Speck, “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 33). 20  An August 15, 2005, e-mail from Conor McDonough Quinn notes that the current Penobscot form of Nicolar’s k’chi-wump-toqueh has come to refer to the Canada goose and literally translates as “great, venerable Canada goose.” Quinn speculates that the element in the word connoting white may refer “to the white patch on the Canada goose’s neck.” I would add that Nicolar’s term (or close variants) may once have had several referents, but that after the indigenous North American swan species were hunted almost to extinction in the nineteenth century, the word came more and more to refer to the large bird that did still exist, the Canada goose.

84 I n t ro d uct ion 21  The letters and diaries of early settlers in New England and New France are filled with descriptions of earthquakes. For example, in An Account of Two Voyages to New-England (1674), an Englishman named John Josselyn, a gentleman with serious scientific interests, recorded “a terrible Earthquake” in 1668 and “before that a very great one in 1638, and another in 58 and in 1662/3.” In the year before his first visit to Maine—that is, in 1637—he states “there were Earthquakes 6 or 7 times in the space of three dayes” (42). According to data compiled by Henry N. Berry IV for the Maine Geological Survey, “The St. Lawrence Valley northeast of Quebec City is perhaps the most active [earthquake] area in northeastern North America.” Seismic activity in Maine is less violent, but “there is a low but steady rate of earthquake occurrence” in the state. Nicolar was surely aware of the Intensity VI (rather strong) quake that hit around Passamaquoddy Bay and Eastport in 1869. 22  Like Nicolar’s text, David Cusick’s (Tuscarora Iroquois) 1826 Sketches of Ancient History of the Six Nations cannot be read as literal history in the common meaning of that term. It is rather a highly idiosyncratic assemblage of various Iroquoian traditions (and perhaps inventions) and may not be entirely reliable. That said, it does depict the fall of a fiery object from the sky into a nearby body of water (11). Several Algonquian groups, including the Ojibwa of the upper Great Lakes region and the Menomini, also of the Great Lakes region, have similar stories about fiery stars falling to earth, scorching the land and melting the rocks. In some stories, these celestial bodies are said also to have had fiery tails, suggesting comets. In all the stories with which I am familiar, however, there is no mention of the object’s falling into or near a body of water, which renders the Nicolar and Cusick versions unique. 23  The appellation “red man” for the Indian is actually a fairly late colonial phenomenon. Early travelers did not describe the Indians as “red,” and many Europeans saw no significant difference between their own skin color and that of the Natives. In An Account of Two Voyages to New-England (1674), for example, Josselyn described the Natives in Maine as “tall and handsome timber’d people, . . . pale and lean” (89). He did note however, that some (especially the young women) “dye themselves tawnie,” probably a reference to various herb and berry juices applied to the skin to ward off bites from black flies and mosquitoes (90). In “From White Man to Redskin: Changing Anglo-American Perceptions of the American Indian,” the historian Alden T. Vaughan comments that “not until the middle of the eighteenth century did most Anglo-Americans view Indians as significantly different in color from themselves, and not until the nineteenth century did red become the universally accepted color label for American Indians” (918). Vaughan further speculates that “By 1765 some Indians may have adopted the primary color label themselves, either in a panIndian sense or perhaps in reference to a particular tribe” (948–49). Clearly, Nicolar is using “red man” as a pan-Indian identifier. 24  This description may well refer to the Basques who are known to have been amongst the very first Europeans to exploit the rich fish resources off the Grand Banks of southeast Newfoundland, arriving perhaps as early as the 1460s and gradually exploring the coast southward; traces of Basque vocabulary have



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

85

been found in the language of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Micmacs from the Saint Lawrence River Valley and Nova Scotia. I am currently working on a book under contract with Duke University Press that discusses Native stories about the Norse (or Viking) and subsequent arrivals. The tentatively titled In Search of First Contact: The Peoples of the Dawnland and the Vikings of Vinland is due out in 2008. 25  In an August 15, 2005, e-mail, Conor McDonough Quinn pointed out “an interesting presentation structure . . . : reporting that the people were surprised to see people who did not match their expectation rather strengthens the idea that there was such a prophecy, that they expected these people at all.” I am indebted to his insight. 26  Not only in warfare did the northeastern Algonquian tribes demonstrate their respect for the property—especially food caches—of others. Olive Patricia Dickason notes in Canada’s First Nations that when the Frenchman, Pierre du Gua de Monts (1558?–1628), “established a group of seventy-nine men on the island of Sainte-Croix in 1604–05, then moved to Port Royal (later known as Annapolis Royal) in 1605–07,” he subsequently “returned to Port Royal three years later.” There he “found that the Amerindians had touched nothing.” As Dickason comments, “An Amerindian custom that surprised early Europeans was that of respecting food caches and supply depots of others, even though unguarded” (107). 27  Writing in 1929, Henry Lorne Masta, former Head Chief of the St. Francis Abenaki at Odanak, Quebec, included three separate stories of AbenakiIroquois entanglements in his Abenaki Indian Legends, Grammar and Place Names (17–18, 31–32, 32–33). The St. Francis Abenaki were originally from Maine, having fled to Quebec during the colonial wars of the eighteenth century. 28  Early explorers and colonizers erected crosses as signs of European possession and as signs of their missions to convert the Natives. In 1497, for example, John Cabot erected a cross on the Newfoundland coast. In 1534, Jacques Cartier and his crew erected a 35-foot cross in Micmac territory, at Gaspé Harbor at the mouth of the Saint Lawrence. In May of 1536, on his second voyage, Cartier erected yet another large cross at the mouth of the St. Charles River at Quebec. Indeed, wherever they traveled in Canada and New England, early explorers and adventurers (Catholic and Protestant alike) reported leaving crosses to signify their presence or claim possession, or simply as a guidepost for future travelers. The Indians’ imperfect memories of all these arrivals, combined with the sheer number of arrivals, may explain why Nicolar’s phrasing in the final two paragraphs of chapter six suggests a rather generalized cumulative succession of those who erect crosses and repeatedly “come again.” Moreover, given the fact that by Nicolar’s lifetime the Penobscot had a long history of assimilating groups and individuals from many different Algonquian-speaking tribes, all of whom brought with them their own stories and cultural traditions, this makes a certain kind of inclusive narrative sense. “The strange people” who “planted blocks of wood in the form of a cross” had many possible referents, depend-

86 I n t ro d uct ion ing on the particular tribal backgrounds of the several elders and storytellers upon whom Nicolar relied. His intention, however, was to forge coherence out of these multiple and potentially antagonistic traditions. In the autumn of 1846, the writer Henry David Thoreau left Massachusetts to explore the backwoods of Maine. He and his companions encountered a large wooden cross of obvious age. One of Thoreau’s companions who was familiar with the Maine woods comments that “large wooden crosses, made of oak, still sound, were sometimes found standing in this wilderness, which were set up by the first Catholic missionaries who came through to the Kennebec” (Thoreau, The Maine Woods, 60). 29  It is also possible that because in Nicolar’s lifetime the white population of Maine consisted of the descendents of the English as well as the French—and many other ethnic groups, as well—he took the politic route, constructing a benign and generic “white man” without specific national identity. 30  According to Prins, “Until the 1630s, Mi’kmaqs occupied the Maine coast as far west as Penobscot Bay and launched raids against corn-growing coastal tribes inhabiting territories southwest of the Kennebec River”—that is, into Massachusetts (The Mi’kmaq, 110). But the Micmac’s raiding for corn explains only part of the enmity between the Micmac and the Penobscot. In 1604, the French began a steady and lucrative trade in furs with the Penobscot and Maliseet. But the French removal of their trading post to Port Royal in Nova Scotia, in Micmac territory, both threatened the Micmac and also initiated their desire to take over control of the Indian side of the trade. Earlier enmity between the Penobscot and Micmac was thus revived as the two groups (and their allies) competed to monopolize the supply of pelts to the French. By 1607, the rivalry escalated into the Tarrantine Wars, eight years of almost uninterrupted hostilities pitting a Penobscot-led confederacy of allied tribes against the Micmac and Maliseet (while the French continued to trade with all sides). 31  Many historians and anthropologists believe that by the 1670s, the first Wabanaki Confederacy was well established and included the Micmac, Maliseet, Passamaquoddy, Penobscot, “and more remote Abenaki communities” (Prins, The Mi’kmaq, 119). Wiseman uses Passamaquoddy and Iroquois wampum records to date several developing pan-tribal Native alliances, beginning in the seventeenth century (see 77–81). Like several other Native historians, he dates many of these alliances and confederacies as having been formed much earlier than most non-Native historians assert. 32  The list of early French missions and missionaries is long. In 1615, Catholic priests from the Recollect Order began establishing missions in Quebec, followed in 1625 by Jesuits. The conversions in Maine began even earlier, in 1611, when Pierre Biard and Enemond Massé, Catholic missionaries from France, first attempted a settlement named St. Saveur on Mount Desert Island. This mission was destroyed by an English raiding party from Virginia in 1613. But more French missions followed. According to the historian James Axtell, in Maine “Catholic missionaries were ensconced in [Algonquian] villages long before the English realized the strategic need for native allies, and had converted most of native Maine to the Roman faith. The process had been well begun in the



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

87

interior by Father Druillettes in the late 1640s and by Capuchins at the mouth of the Penobscot in the early 1650s. In 1687,” continues Axtell, “Abbé Pierre Thury, a graduate of the Quebec Seminary, established a mission on the Penobscot, followed seven years later by Vincent Bigot and Sébastien Râle [also Rasle], who founded the Jesuit mission at Norridgewock on the upper Kennebec. By 1699 at least six Jesuits were living with and administering the sacraments to villagers on the Saco, Androscoggin, and Kennebec rivers” (The Invasion Within, 248). 33  On another trip to Maine in September 1853, Thoreau visited briefly the home of “Governor Neptune” on Indian Island. Thoreau wrote that Neptune “told me that he was eighty-nine; but he was going a-moose-hunting that fall, as he had been the previous one” (The Maine Woods, 199–200). Due to the fact that Neptune was hard of hearing, Thoreau mostly chatted with one of his sonsin-law, “a very sensible Indian” (201). The son-in-law informed Thoreau “that there were two political parties among them [i.e., the Penobscots],—one in favor of schools, and the other opposed to them, or rather they did not wish to resist the priest, who was opposed to them” (202). The son-in-law explains that he and Old John Neptune “were in favor of schools. He said, ‘If Indians got learning, they would keep their money’ ” (202). 34  In Pauleena MacDougall’s fine summary, “Population decline from disease clearly weakened the Penobscots’ military strength and prevented them from stopping the movement of settlers onto lands adjacent to their villages. It also destroyed the elderly and children more than any other groups. An important result of destruction of the elderly is the loss of traditional knowledge such as languages, prayers, and skills. The loss is even more significant when the variation of traditions between villages declines; the traditions become more homogenous when numerous villages disappear and the remaining communities become refugee communities” (The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 59). 35  In effect, Nicolar has constructed two very different orientations to living in the world: the white man’s stubborn, greedy, and exploitive commitment to power and possession, as opposed to the Native peoples’ sharing communality and capacity for self-correction and change. The two orientations are fundamentally incompatible. As in the mineral springs anecdote, one eventually erases the other. To be sure, by drawing the contrast so sharply, Nicolar risks a certain disingenuous oversimplification. But he also succeeds in forcing the reader to consider whether these two very different cultural orientations can really coexist in the same geographical space. And he clearly makes a case for which one he views as ethically superior. 36  In addition to providing a detailed description of the “great council fire’s” rituals and workings—details repeatedly used by anthropologists, historians, and ethnographers—Nicolar also provides one of the few written Indian sources for the eventual decline of this institution. He credits the May-Quays with being “very faithful to their duty” for a long time. But “very recently . . . they began to show signs of change in their demenour, . . . and the visits to the grand council fire was after a while stopped” (192). While anthropologists and historians cite various other reasons for this decline—internal personal or political disputes, disagreements over land claims, etc.—there is no question that

88 In t ro d u ct ion the council was not dissolved until well into the nineteenth century. Speck’s Native sources dated their withdrawals to the 1860s and 1870s (see Speck, “The Eastern Algonkian Wabanaki Confederacy,” 498). Nicolar attributes the first defections from the council to “the action of Odur-wur [the Ottawa, who had originally arbitrated the peace and chosen the grand council fire’s location] which was soon followed by all the other tribes” (192). For a discussion of how effectively the confederation around the grand council fire served the various Indian nations, see Wiseman, The Voice of the Dawn, especially 77–81 and 118– 19. 37  Another source, derived from Passamaquoddy wampum records, appears in John Dyneley Prince’s Passamaquoddy Texts, 6–19. 38  With his permission, I have here paraphrased James Eric Francis’s very informative explanation of Penobscot storytelling conventions; private conversations with the author, June 4, 2005, on Indian Island. 39  One tradition impossible to maintain in the transition from orality to written text was the timing of when stories were communicated. Traditionally, stories about local and recent “news” events might be told at almost any time of year. Stories “handed down from age to age”—like the Gluscap cycles—were more commonly “only told between the time of first frost and last frost, when the earth is asleep” (Bruchac, The Wind Eagle and Other Abenaki Stories, vi). An old saying among the Cree, a Central Algonquian-speaking people, perfectly expresses this idea: “The good story is the one that lets you live in winter” (quoted in Moody’s preface to Bruchac, iii). By Nicolar’s day, these distinctions were no longer strictly observed. This may have made him feel more comfortable about putting the stories in print.

A Note on Nicolar’s Text

Joseph Nicolar’s The Life and Traditions of the Red Man first appeared in 1893, printed and bound in Bangor, Maine, by C. H. Glass and Company. The book was bound in a hard cover, green in color, without any title on the front. Along the spine, in gold letters, were “The Red Man” and “Nicolar” underneath. Because Nicolar self-published this, his first and only book, the original print run was relatively small, probably no more than a few hundred copies. An early fire destroyed most of the copies of the book, and few copies of the original printing exist today. Unfortunately, Nicolar died in 1894, just months after his book was printed. In 1979 the anthropologist James D. Wherry issued a photographic reprint of the original work, with a brief introduction he wrote himself, published by Saint Annes Point Press in Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada. The print run for this reissue was also quite small. In 2002 the Penobscot Nation Museum produced its own photographic reprint of the original, spiral-bound in red paper covers, and available for sale in the Nation’s museum on Indian Island. Because of this limited publication history, Nicolar’s achievement is not widely known, although the text has always remained important to those in the Penobscot Nation. The current reprinting is newly typeset and follows exactly the 1893 original, maintaining Nicolar’s sometimes idiosyncratic spelling and punctuation. The only changes are twenty-one silent corrections of obvious typesetting errors in the original: On page 12 of the original, Klose-kur-beh is misspelled as Klose-hur-beh, which has been corrected on page 101, line 6 in this edition. On page 23 of the original, the word “the” is printed twice in a row, which has been corrected on page 108, line 31 in this edition. On page 30 of the original, what should be “a long” is printed as a single word, corrected here on page 114, line 8. Capitalized consistently throughout the rest of the text, on page 41 of the original, what should be “May-May” is misprinted as May-may, corrected here on page 122, lines 14–15. On page 56 of the

Studio portrait of Joseph Nicolar published in the original 1893 edition of The Life and Traditions of the Red Man



A n n e tte Ko l o d ny

91

original, what should be the word “upon” is misprinted as upot, corrected here on page 134, line 2. Although spelled correctly later in the same sentence, on page 66 of the original, the word “carry” is misprinted as cary, corrected here on page 141, line 2. On page 69 of the original, what is clearly intended to read “did not” is misprinted as di dnot, corrected here on page 142, line 23. On page 75 of the original, “as” is printed twice in succession, corrected here on page 146, line 38. Spelled correctly later in the sentence, on page 77 of the original, “destructive” is misprinted as distructive, corrected here on page 148, line 15. On page 93 of the original, the sentence beginning “And when the people discovered this” concludes with a comma instead of a period, corrected here on page 159, line 15. Spelled correctly elsewhere in chapter four, on page 94 of the original, what should be “partridge” is misprinted as patridge, corrected here on page 159, line 33. On page 96 of the original, the word “in” is printed twice in a row, corrected here on page 162, line 7. On page 98 of the original, what is clearly intended to read “track” is misprinted as tract, corrected here on page 163, line 22. On page 108 of the original, what is clearly intended to be the word “interview” is misprinted as intersview, corrected here on page 170, line 20. On page 123 of the original, what is clearly intended to be the word “secured” is misprinted as sccured, corrected here on page 180, line 27. On page 124 of the original, the name of a rival war-chief, War-har-weh, is misprinted as War-hah-weh, corrected here on page 181, line 23. On page 131 of the original, “barren” is misprinted as baren, corrected here on page 187, line 22. Also on page 131 of the original, what is clearly intended to read “tactics” is misprinted as tacties, corrected here on page 187, lines 33–34. Spelled correctly elsewhere in Nicolar’s book, on page 140 of the original, the word “doctrine” is misprinted as doctorine, corrected here on page 194, line 13. On page 144 of the original, words are reversed so that what is clearly intended to read “a lively blaze” is misprinted lively a blaze, corrected here on page 197, line 10. On page 146 of the original, the word “clans” is misprinted as class, corrected here on page 199, line 6. Because Nicolar suffered failing health during the last year of his life, it is unclear whether he had the opportunity to proofread his book as it went through press. This may explain why these printer’s errors crept into the text. In addition to these silent corrections, infrequent minimal intrusions into the text have been introduced in brackets where needed

92 A N o te o n t h e Text

for clarity. Brief annotations at the bottom of some pages provide immediate translations of Penobscot words or clarifications of unfamiliar phrases and references. Endnotes have been added to provide necessary explanatory or background information. Otherwise, Nicolar’s text remains just as he composed it. Without any generally accepted published Native models to follow or any established system for translating Penobscot words into English letters, Joseph Nicolar invented his own spellings for the Penobscot words and names included in his text. He was attempting to use the available English alphabet to convey the unique sounds of the Penobscot language. Because this challenge proved difficult, Nicolar sometimes resorted to spelling the same Penobscot word in slightly different ways. Therefore, readers should not be confused by variant spellings of the same Penobcot noun or place name. Today, scholars of linguistics and the Penobscots themselves employ versions of a more standardized Penobscot alphabet and orthography for the Penobscot language; and an as yet unpublished dictionary of the Penobscot language, regularizing this alphabet, was compiled by the late Frank T. Siebert Jr. Even so, no attempt has been made here to transliterate Nicolar’s spelling so as to conform to any modern orthography, nor have the annotations at the bottoms of some pages attempted to analyze the etymology or derivations of Penobscot words by using this orthography. The double curve design elements throughout are all taken from traditional Penobscot designs, as might be found in beadwork and basketry, and on other weavings fashioned during Nicolar’s lifetime. Far more than a compendium of traditional lore and material culture, Joseph Nicolar’s The Life and Traditions of the Red Man is in many ways a wholly original creation and a major literary achievement. It stands alone as the only book-length continuous sustained narrative written in English by a member of a Wabanaki tribe during the nineteenth century. Through Nicolar we hear multiple voices: his own, those of the many storytellers who shared their tales with him, and of the generations of storytellers who came before them. In these pages, Native ancestors still speak.

Studio portrait believed to be of Joseph Nicolar in traditional ceremonial attire

Preface.

In offering this work which will give the public the full account of all the pure traditions which have been handed down from the beginning of the red man’s world to the present time, I deem it proper to state that there have been no historical works of the white man, nor any other written history from any source quoted. All prophesies, theories and ideas of the educated and intelligent of all races have been laid aside; no supposition nor presumption of any class entertained, because it is intended to show only the simple and natural state of life, habits and ways as they existed among the pure, innocent and simple people whose traditions are here written. Simple as one would imagine them to be, yet some prophesies of theirs when given a full account of, will be very interesting, especially when it is shown that none of the studies nor the researches of the white man have ever penetrated—thereby dwelt upon them. But still remains with him as hidden things. Nevertheless, a close observer cannot fail to see that some of their prophesies are very significant and important, not only to the red man himself, but nations of all other races as well. And this is not all! Because when his ways and habits are learned it will be found that they are so peculiar it has spread the veil over the eyes and minds of the learned of these modern dates, and have caused many to enquire, “Where did the red man come from?” This is the question we intend to answer! We intend also, to remove the fear, that the life of the red man will pass away unwritten, and this is written because there is an abundance of evidence showing that there is a general desire among the people that some one ought to write it now if ever. In this undertaking I wish to say to the public, that I am one of the descendents of the remnants of that once numerous and most powerful race; and my life having been spent in the researches of my people’s past life, beginning in my early boyhood days to the present

96

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

time I can say that, by the grace of nature I have been crowned with a success. Only one thing is lacking; and that is the proper education to do such work, and one who reads this will be fully convinced when he sees that I was never educated to that degree as to be able to excite the feelings of the people and make them pronounce me as a brilliant and popular writer. However, I have undertaken the work and have done it in my own way; have given the full account of all the traditions as I have gathered them from my people. After forty years of search and study I am satisfied that no more can be found, as the old traditional story tellers have all gone to the happy hunting ground. Klose-kur-beh, “The Man From Nothing,” was claimed by all the children of the red man, to be the first person who came upon the earth. And he was their teacher! He taught them how they must live, and told them about the spiritual power, how it was in every living thing, and it was the same power that has sent him to prepare the way on earth for the generations to come; and to subdue all obstacles which are against the nature of mankind; and to reduce the earth to such a state as to become a happy land for the people. The works of Klose-kur-beh were wonderful—traditions extend to the time of his presence among them, and his works and teaching, during his stay with his children, as he called all the people, will be fully written in this work. His coming into the world the instructions and power given him by the Great Spirit will be fully shown and explained. Also how great the love and reverence bestowed upon him by the people for his good works. In reading the works, it can clearly be seen that this Klose-kur-beh was at the creation. His claims to that effect were not only by his words, but also by his most wonderful works as will be shown in the following pages of this book. JOSEPH NICOLAR. Old Town, Maine, 1893. happy hunting ground : term for the Indian Afterworld, the realm after death1 Klose-kur-beh : (also Gluscap, Gluskabe, etc.) the name of the major culture hero among most Eastern Algonquian-speaking tribes of Maine and the Canadian Maritime Provinces, believed to have been self-created (“The Man From Nothing”)

Chapter I. The Creation.—Klose-kur-beh’s Journey.—Meeting his Companions.—The Marriage.

Klose-kur-beh, “The Man from Nothing,” first called the minds of the “Red Children” to his coming into the world when the world contained no other man, in flesh, but himself. When he opened his eyes lying on his back in the dust, his head [was] toward the rising of the sun and his feet toward the setting of the sun, the right hand pointing to the north and his left hand to the south. Having no strength to move any part of his body, yet the brightness of the day revealed to him all the glories of the whole world; the sun was at its highest, standing still, and beside it was the moon without motion and the stars were in their fixed places, while the firmament was in its beautiful blue. While yet his eyes were held fast in their sockets, he saw all that the world contained. Besides what the region of the air revealed to him, he saw the land, the sea, mountains, lakes, rivers, and the motion of the waters, and in it he saw the fishes. On the land were the animals and beasts, and in the air the birds. In the direction of the rising sun he saw the night approaching. While the body clung to the dust he was without mind, and the flesh without feeling. At that moment the heavens were lit up, with all kinds of bright colors most beautiful, each color stood by itself, and in another moment every color shot a streak into the other, and soon all the colors intermingled, forming a beautiful brightness in the center of the heavens over the front of his face. Nearer and nearer came the brightness toward his body until it got almost to a touching distance, and a feeling came into his flesh, he felt the warmth of the approaching brightness, and he fell into a deep sleep. The wind of the heavens fanned his brow, and the sense of seeing returned unto the “Red Children” : the Native peoples for whom Klose-kur-beh will subsequently serve as a teacher and culture hero

98

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

him, but he saw not the brightness he beheld before, but instead of the brightness, a person like unto himself, standing at his right hand, and the person’s face was toward the rising of the sun. In silence he raised his right hand, in the direction of the rising sun, passed it from thence to the setting of the sun, and immediately a streak of lightning followed the motion of his hand from one side of the earth to the other. Again he raised his right hand to the south, passing it to the north, and immediately another streak of lightning followed the motion of his hand. Immediately after the passing of the lightning over his body, a sense of thought came unto him [i.e., Klose-kur-beh]. The first thought that came unto him was, that he believed the person was able to bring strength unto him, and the “Great Being” answered his thought saying these words: “Thou doest well believing in me, I am the head of all that thou beholdest, and as thou believest, arise from thy bed of dust, and stand on thy feet, let the dust be under thy feet, and as thou believest, thou shalt have strength to walk.” Immediately strength came unto him, and he arose to his feet, and stood beside the “Great Being.” After this the “Great Being” moved and turned half around towards his right hand, facing the sun. Lifting both hands and looking up he said: “Go thy way!” and immediately the whole heavens obeyed. The sun, moon and all the stars moved towards the setting of the sun. The night coming slowly toward their standing, when the Great Being sending up his voice, saying: “Let us make man in our own image,” and immediately dropped his two hands and cast his eyes upon the land and moved half way around again toward his right hand, facing the setting of the sun, and passed his right hand from the north to the south. The lightning followed the motion of his hand, from the north to the south, and again passing his hand from the setting of the sun to the rising of the sun, immediately the lightning followed the motion of his right hand, from the setting of the sun to the rising of the sun, and when the lightning came upon the night which was approaching it disappeared; the darkness of the night hid from them, what was beyond the night. the “Great Being” : an aspect of the Catholic trinity who incorporates the Penobscot Spirit Being, Kci-Niwesk, referring to the essence of life that is in all things “Let us make man in our own image” : Genesis 1:26



C h a p t e r On e

99

Immediately the dust of the land began to shake and to heave, in the form of a cross, where the motion had been made. And there was an image of a man lay on the ground.—his head toward the north, and his feet toward the south—his right hand pointing to the setting of the sun, and his left hand toward the rising of the sun, his face lay towards the blue skies over their heads, and his face was white with the paleness, because life was not yet in him; Klose-kur-beh said, “and immediately the Great Being said unto me, ‘Turn thy face to the setting of the sun,’ and I obeyed him; and again the Great Being spoke unto me, saying ‘I will not suffer thee to see this man arise to his feet like yourself therefore, go thy way, toward thy right hand and seek thy companions! I will be thy teacher and you will be their teacher;’ and I obeyed his command.” Turning toward my right hand and facing the north. Behold! there was a high mountain seven rainbows high. To this I went, and up the mountain I walked; seven times my strength left me, and seven times the wind of the heavens fanned my brow, each time giving me strength to go on my way. Seven times I reached out my hand unto the seven rainbows and lifted myself on my feet, so that I was able to walk to the top of the mountain, and immediately a cloud of the heavens lowered, and lifted me from the top of the mountain, carrying me toward the rising of the sun, toward where the night was coming, and unto the night the clouds carried me, and unto the darkness I was carried and in the midst of the darkness a voice spoke unto me, saying, “even in the darkness I will be with thee.” These words brought light into the clouds so that the clouds which carried me was like a ball of fire, and the ball of fire gave us light while passing the darkness of the night, and when the darkness of the night passed toward the setting of the sun, the light of the day came from the rising of the sun.—And the clouds turned white and the brightness of fire was not there. And the wind from the setting of the sun came upon the clouds, and shook the clouds so it began to break in pieces until all was scattered, leaving only a small mist which held me, which soon left me standing on my feet on the top of a high mountain, my face an image of a man lay on the ground : another man, a separate creation, also to be endowed with life, but only after Klose-kur-beh departs the scene seven : sacred ritual number among the Penobscots, including multiples of seven like seventy or seven hundred

100

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

was toward the rising of the sun, and at this moment a voice spoke unto me, saying, “Turn again thy face to thy right hand, and thy face be toward the noon sun—this is South,—and thy back is toward the cold hand—this is North,—thy right hand now point to the setting of the sun,—this is West,—and thy left hand point to the rising of the sun,—this is East. From the East and from the West, from the North and from the South, I will send the wind, to let you know that even the wind will obey me, and now I will command the sun to arise. Go thy way toward the sun, and when the sun sets and night comes, there rest. On the morrow arise with the sun, and go towards it until it sets. Seventy times seven, shalt thou arise, with the sun, and walk towards it until it sets. Seventy times seven nights will I visit thee, and teach thee thy duties. At the end of thy journey there abide, and thy companion[s] will come unto thee.” Immediately the sun arose and I started on my journey. Thus by the command of the “Great Being,” Klose-kur-beh started on his journey to find his companions. The writer will now narrate in the following pages, a full account of all the original traditions, in a simple way and manner, so that even the small children will readily understand them. The name of Klose-kur-beh was given to this wonderful being, after the people came and learned his teachings, and learned how he came into existence. This name, or the word, Klose-kur-beh needs much explanation, since it has been the case in all languages that some of the old words have been changed, very often corrupting the word into something else, or changing its meaning. For instance, the word Klose-ki, in the old Indian language meant simple or nothing. “Klose-ki-ner-quatt,” is the word for simple appearance; and “Klose-kur-beh” means, the man from nothing. But since there has been such a vast change in the Indian dialect, in his companions : these will be the symbolic ancestors of the Indians—No-kami, Natar-wun-sum, and Nee-gar-oose—whom Klose-kur-beh will encounter shortly Klose-ki-ner-quatt : a word with multiple, somewhat ambiguous, layers of meaning, including unreality, falsehood, fabrication, fanciful, or imaginary; here it suggests that the name Klose-kur-beh is best understood as meaning self-fabricated or created in fancy, an imaginary man, rather than as deceitful or false



C h a p t e r On e

101

later years, the word “Klose-kur-beh” is now understood, to mean a man of falsehood, or more vulgarly, a liar. Should some of the Indian children read this work, they must bear in mind, that this word, “Klose-kur-beh” was not intended to be used as the word liar, as it will readily be seen that the original Indian phraseology remedies this corruption. Hence the word Klose-kurbeh must be allowed to rest on the original meaning. After giving the account of the journey of Klose-kur-beh, in his [i.e., Klose-kur-beh’s] own words, the writer will now use the words of the traditional story tellers. So important was the duty which devolved upon them, that they were not only careful in all their tellings, but were watchful as well. They resorted to all sorts of penetrating efforts to learn and gather all that could be found for the benefit of their people, and after all that was done there still lies a veil over the period during the seventy times seven days, in which, Klose-kur-beh travelled, because there was no mention made by him, whether he was fed and clothed during this journey or not. Therefore this part remains a mystery to this day. If Klose-kur-beh made mention of it, the story tellers did not. At a later period, the opinion of all the people agree that Klose-kurbeh did not reveal that part to them, and the people came to the conclusion that there was nothing said about it by Klose-kur-beh. It was clear to the minds of the people that Klose-kur-beh made particular mention of the seventy times seven nights of rest and of the visit of the “Great Being.” In each of the visits seven words passed between them until the last seven days. In these last seven days Klose-kur-beh was fed and clothed, and shown how to obtain food, and with what to clothe himself. In all these days no seasons were mentioned until the last seven days came. None of the traditions, located the country wherein all these things took place, but it was agreed by all interested in later years, that it was on the eastern part of the Red man’s World: So much of this belief remained as a settled fact, that the people began to look for the appearance of other people in that direction, which proved to them afterwards that their belief was a true one. Another evidence which eastern part of the Red man’s World : eastern coast of North America the appearance of other people in that direction : the arrival of other people coming from the east or arriving in the east

102

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

strongly points to indicate the true location, is that the last seven days Klose-kur-beh comes to an open sea every morning while going in the direction of the rising of the sun. The teaching of the Great Being to Klose-kur-beh was very lengthy. In the first seven nights the Great Being made known to Klose-kurbeh that the world was all spiritual, that there was a living spirit in all things, and the spirit of all things has power over all, and as the spirit of all things center in Him, he was the Great Spirit, by His will, all things move, all power comes from Him; and he—“Klose-kur-beh” must teach the people that there is but one Great Spirit. When Klose-kur-beh was teaching his people, he points out to them where the Great Spirit was:—in the sun—moon—stars—clouds of heaven—mountains, and even in the trees of the earth. After the teaching of Klose-kur-beh had been sown and had taken root, then all the Red men could be seen to make signs of reverence and worship, when any of these things met their gaze. The religious teaching of Klose-kur-beh did not bear much fruit until after he had shown the people, the power given him by the Great Spirit. Klose-kur-beh must have seen the unfruitfulness of his teaching, because he began to say to them, that he would very soon begin to show them by his works, that every word he said to them was true. After he had accomplished all he was charged to do by the Great Spirit, then the people declared his teaching to be all true. Three things of Klose-kur-beh’s teaching are held more sacred than all others. The first was the power of the Great Spirit. Second, the land the Great Spirit gave them they must never leave, and the third, they must never forget their first mother, but must always show the love they have for her, and all work must cease during the observances of her honor. Before going further with the work, it is necessary to give an account of Klose-kur-beh meeting his companions, and after giving an open sea : probably the Atlantic Ocean Him . . . the Great Spirit : a combination of the Christian God and the Algonquian-speaking peoples’ creator manitou, a powerful life-giving Spirit Being named Kci-Niwesk their first mother : Mother Earth; also the first female progenitor of the Indians who subsequently sacrifices herself to generate corn and tobacco for the people



C h a p t e r On e

103

fully of all the particulars of that eventful period, I shall enter again into the account of his teaching. After the seventy times seven nights had passed, when the sun was highest, a person came unto Klose-kur-beh from the rising of the sun; the one who came was a woman and she was bowed down with old age. She began to speak unto Klose-kur-beh, saying: “Noo-sus—my grandson,” to which Klose-kur-beh answered: “Ka-goos Nok-a-mi,— what is it my grandmother?” and Nok-a-mi said: “I have come to stay and I will be useful in preparing food for you. I have no other place to go; I know of no other person but you; I am bowed down with old age; yet I came into existance this very noon-day sun, and owe my existance to the dew of the rock, and as the noon-day sun shineth hot, the heat warmeth the dew, bringing life, and I am she. When I opened my eyes my face was toward the setting of the sun, and a loud voice told me to go forth in the direction of my face and find my companions and there abide, and forthwith I have come.” Then Klose-kur-beh with a loud voice of joy lifted his hands towards the noon-day sun, thanking the Great Spirit in fulfilling the promise. And immediately Klose-kur-beh walked to the brookside and there beheld a little animal swimming in the water. He called the little animal to him and the animal obeyed him, and Klose-kur-beh slew the animal with sticks and brought it forth to his house of sticks and leaves and prepared the meat for a meal for himself and the woman, and a voice in the air came to their ears, saying: “It is not good to eat meat and blood together, therefore I will send fire unto you; take it and put it on the ground and put sticks on it so the sticks will burn, and put the meat on the fire so the blood will cook dry, and when it is cooked take and eat, this is good.” After this saying, a cloud arose in the direction of the setting of the sun, which came fast with a loud noise, and with fire brightening the clouds. The clouds burst, and send forth a streak of fire, striking the top of the soft-wood tree that was standing by the brook-side, and the fire breaking the top of the tree, rolled around, following the grains of the tree, tearing the bark; and on the nakedness of the tree, a smoke arose, and there was a fire burning near the roots.

Noo-sus : grandchild Ka-goos : interrogative “what?” or “how?” Nok-a-mi : grandmother a streak of fire : lightning

104

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

Klose-kur-beh immediately gathered all of the fire, put it on the ground with some sticks, which he made burn. He put the meat on the fire and cooked it. After it was cooled the two persons did eat, and Klose-kur-beh said it was good. On the morrow at the noon-day sun, a young man came unto Klose-kur-beh and No-ka-mi, and the young man’s motions were very quick for he was yet young in age. Facing the cold land, he stood before them and said unto Klose-kur-beh: “I have come to abide with you and I have no other place to go, because I know no other persons but you. I have come to help you in all things. I am young in age, quick in my motion. I will be useful to you. I am small, but the body from whence I came is large, and there is no end to that body, therefore I will call you Nas-sar-sis,—my mother’s brother.” And Klose-kur-beh answered and said: “Natar-wun-sum,— my sister’s son,” and the young man said: “I owe my existence to the beautiful foam of the waters. The wind of the heavens blew, and moving the waters so that it rolled in great rolls so that the top broke, leaving the foam on top the water, and the noon-day sun shone on the foam and the heat of the sun warmeth the foam and the warmth bringeth life, and I am he. The wind of the heavens carried me to the land, and a loud voice told me to go forth in the direction of my face and find my companions and there abide. Knowing that when I opened my eyes my face was toward the cold land and I have come forth, I am your help. Klose-kur-beh lifted up his hands toward the noon-day sun, and giving thanks to the Great Spirit, immediately went to the brook-side, taking with him a fragment of the animal’s meat and the threads of the bark of the soft wood tree which had been torn by the lightning, and tied the fragments on one end of the bark thread; he called loudly for the fishes to come, and three obeyed him,—one fish red, one white and one black—Klose-kur-beh casting the meat into the water, saying: “One of you, who is willing to become food for my children, bite the meat and I will draw you to the land, and you shall be food for my children.” Immediately the red fish did bite the meat and Klose-kur-beh drew him unto the land, and Klosekur-beh said: “The two fishes yet in the water are food for other men;” and turning to the fishes, he commanded them to return to the deep

the cold land : north the body from whence I came is large : the ocean (?) Nas-sar-sis : my maternal uncle Natar-wun-sum : my sister’s son or, literally, “my cross nephew”1



C h a p t e r On e

105

water, and there stay until called forth by men, the color of their color, and the two fishes obeyed and returned to deep water. Without killing the fish with the sticks, No-ka-mi cooked it in the fire, and when it was cold the three did eat, and Klose-kur-beh called it good. When another morrow came, and when the sun was highest, another person came unto the three, whose motion was gentle, and brow fair. Who greeted all with down-cast eyes, saying “Ni-jun-duke”—My children, and Klose-kur-beh answered and said; “Nee-gar-oose”— Mother. The person was a young maiden. She opened her mouth, and with a soft voice said these words, “I have come to stay, and I have brought all the color of life on my brow; Love is mine, and I will give it unto you, and if you will love me, as I love you, and grant my wish, all the world will love me, even the beast will love me, and will steal my body because they love it. Strength is mine, and those who can reach me will get it. Peace is mine and I will bring content[ment] to the heart that seeks it; but woe unto the man, who does not heed its power, he is a brute. There will be many seventy times seven persons who shall share in it, therefore keep it pure. Because I have no other place to go, and I know no other but you. I have come; I am young in age and I am tender, yet my strength is great and I shall be felt all over the world, because I owe my existence to the beautiful plant of the earth, and as the evening and morning dew falleth on the leaf of the plant when the sun was highest and shining on it, the heat of the sun warmeth the dew, and the warmth brought life, and I am she. When I opened my eyes my face was toward the rising of the sun and a loud voice spoke unto me, saying, ‘Go forth in the direction of thy face, and find thy companions.’ Immediately I obeyed; because others are coming, we must prepare the way, so that all that come may abide with us.” Immediately Klose-kur-beh lifteth up his hands toward the sun when it was highest and with a loud voice praised the Great Spirit for having fulfilled all the promises he had made unto him, and Klose-kur-beh bowed his head low giving four thanks to the Great Spirit, one toward the rising of the sun—one toward the setting of the Ni-jun-duke : an emphatic form meaning “my children” or “all you children” (with the implication that this includes both her human and her non-human children) Nee-gar-oose : mother 2 my face was toward the rising of the sun : east Klose-kur-beh . . . giving four thanks : He turns to the four cardinal direc-

106

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

sun—one toward the noon-day sun—one toward the cold land, and immediately went forth to the thick growth of bushes and from the branches of the bushes, picked Par-gun-sal,—nuts, and brought them forth to the young man and commanded him to break the nuts with Pen-nep-skole,—stones, so that the young maiden may eat. The young man obeyed, and the four persons did eat of the nuts; and before the sun’s shadow was too far toward the rising of the sun, Klose-kur-beh bade the three to come forth and face the noon, and there join hands and give thanks to the Great Spirit, in the name of the substance that bore them; and the three obeyed, and the words of thanks repeated came from the mouth of Klose-kur-beh. Thus the first coming of the people to the Red-man’s world began. At this period Klose-kur-beh assigns the duties of each person, and the assignment was made according to the coming of each. He says, “Because the substance that brought us to life is the substance of this world, therefore we must always hold ourselves as a part of the world, because we are substance of it. I arose from the dust of the earth, I must see to it, so that the earth may be clear of all obstacles, and the land be our home, and a home for the people who will come after us. We must not believe our thoughts if they tell us we are to live always, because in one of the seventy times seven nights the Great Spirit spake unto me, saying, ‘Man must not expect to live always,’ and on other nights the Great Spirit continued upon the same subject, so all that was said to me, I am able to say to you, and my words are many. While I labor in purifying the land No-ka-mi will keep my house and prepare the food for eating, and the young man, because he is quick in motion, he shall go forth and bring unto No-ka-mi all that he gets in hunting; he shall bring it for food; he shall first kill the animal with the bow made of hard wood; he shall bend the wood, and the spring of the wood will have strength so it will send forth the arrow and the bow shall have power so that the arrow will have force to kill.” “The young maiden, because she is tender and with fair brow;— she shall be the brightness of our house; she shall welcome all that come to abide with us; and because her strength is great, and must tions, east (“the rising of the sun”); west (“the setting of the sun”); south (“the noon-day sun”); and north (“toward the cold land”). Par-gun-sal : plural generic for small nuts gathered in the fall (like hazelnuts or butternuts) Pen-nep-skole : small rocks or stones



C h a p t e r On e

107

be felt all over the land, she shall give it to those who come, because none can abide without it. Strength is hers because she is the seed of the world. Four kinds shall the people see moving in this world; four seeds the Great Spirit gave unto it. From one seed is man; from another seed are the beasts and animals; from another seed the fowl of the air, and from another the fishes of the water. Every seed shall bear after its kind. Because the Great Spirit made the man, in his own image, he will give unto him in due season the power over all others that come from the other seeds. But in the beginning, the Great Spirit gave greater strength to the beast than he did the man. This is done only to show that the world rests in His will, and the power of man and beast is subject to change; and the Great Spirit calls this wisdom, who said, ‘If I give an endless power to one, he will claim it as his own and forget that it came from Me.’ The Great Spirit said again, ‘I will warn the one in power before I bring the change unto him. I have given the beast, the fowl, and the fish, greater strength than man. But a spirit from me has gone forth unto them, telling them, that I will give the greater power unto man, and in due season, each one shall, by the bidding of man lay down at his feet. Power is sweet and all shall struggle for it, and happy are they who find it. But a great sorrow and anger shall come unto those who lose it; therefore beware; and make it known among you that the beasts, fowl and fishes, are in great anger and seek your life. They are seeking an opportunity to show revenge by violence; therefore mingle not with them, but meet them only as enemies, until the change has been made.” After this the Great Spirit spoke again unto me, saying, “Great will be the period when the power will change from beast to man; but greater will it be, when the power changes from man to man. Because in changing the power from the beast to man I have the man to do my work, but when the change is made between man and man I shall have to do the work with my own hands. There will be father, mother, sons and daughters, yet all must be brothers and sisters; because all are from the dust, stone, water, and the plants of the earth, and all live, are fed and get strength from the same air brought by the wind from heaven.” While yet the Great Spirit was speaking to me he said this, “All Because the Great Spirit made the man, in his own image, . . . seeds : See Genesis 1:26–31.

108

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

living things shall know their kind, and shall go in mates, and after that there will be in the land great numbers; yet each shall know his mate, and because the man shall have power over all living things, it is good that he be mated. The man shall be mate for the woman and the woman shall be mate for the man, and on the morrow when the sun is highest, the man and the woman shall go forth to face the sun, and the man shall give his right hand to the woman, and the woman shall take his right hand with her left hand and both shall bow towards the sun;—seven times shall they bow toward the sun on each morrow; and after that they shall be husband and wife,—after the passing of seven suns they shall be one flesh, and immediately shall the man walk seventy times seven steps toward the noon, and there build a house made of sticks and leaves; the door shall be toward the noon sun; seven days shall he be building the house; and on the seventh day the woman shall go forth among the soft wood trees and break the tender boughs of the trees, and bring them to the house and lay them on the ground for a bed for the husband and the wife; the woman shall there abide with the man; and on the morrow the man and the woman did go forth to make the bow, and the man did make the house, and the woman made the bed, and both lived in the house. After another seven days had passed, Klose-kur-beh visited them and began to teach them more. He gave the man all the land south of the house for his children, while Klose-kur-beh claimed all the north land, because, he came from that way,—he said to the man, “There will be no more come to abide with me, and after I teach your children, and subdue the land, it will be good for me to return to the north-land and there abide. When I go to the north-land No-ka-mi will go with me, no other person shall go, and none shall know where I abide, because when one goes too far towards my abiding place he shall not live to get back; and as nature feedeth ambition many will not be able to resist the temptation of gaining more of the world, but they bow toward the sun on each morrow : Seventeenth-century French missionaries reported that many of the Eastern Algonquian–speaking tribes appeared to worship the sun because tribal members said prayers to the sun outside their wigwams each morning.3 the man and the woman . . . shall be husband and wife : Although not stated explicitly, presumably these are Natar-wun-sum (the man) and Nee-gar-oose (the maiden) introduced earlier; in chapter three, they will become the first parents of “the people.”



C h a p t e r On e

109

will go forth toward me only to perish; yet others will not take this warning but will follow those who have perished, until the northland shall no longer exist; But before I go to the north-land the Great Spirit charged me to teach you this—‘When you are in hunger, take your bow and go forth and kill such animals as you need for food and bring them unto the woman who shall prepare the meat for food, and you shall prepare the skins to cover your bodies and bed. I [i.e., Klose-kur-beh] have many words to say, therefore I shall come and teach you these same things on every seventh day, and this day shall be one of the seventh. On the other seventh days I shall repeat all my sayings so you will be able to repeat them to your children and your children to their children, until the things of the world will get so sweet to the people they will forget the words of the Great Spirit and shall begin to teach their children only on things they see in the world. When that day comes, I shall return from the north-land to teach you more. Klose-kur-beh then said unto the Woman, “You are to be the first mother of the children that are to come, you shall bear unto your husband seven sons and seven daughters and their children shall become seven tribes, and from these seven tribes, many times seven tribes shall come until they cover the land. After you shall have borne the seven sons and seven daughters, a spirit will come to you, in your sleep, and tell you what to do, so that you can be with your children and their children while the earth stands. When first I met you all,—the first who came was the woman [i.e., No-ka-mi, grandmother], but with you, the first child you shall bear, shall be born man, and the second shall be woman. There shall be a man born, before every woman, and the first born man, shall take unto himself a wife, who shall be of the fourth born woman; the second shall take the fifth; the third shall take the sixth; the fourth shall take the seventh; the fifth shall take the first; the sixth shall take the second, and the seventh man shall take the third woman; it will not be good for them, if they will not obey this order; because if the first I shall repeat all my sayings . . . and your children to their children : Klosekur-beh thus initiates an oral tradition. you can be with your children and their children while the earth stands : a reference to the first mother’s subsequent self-sacrificing transformation into corn and tobacco in chapter three the first born man, shall take unto himself a wife, who shall be of the fourth born woman; . . . obey this order : Klose-kur-beh is here establishing an incest

110

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

born man, take the first born woman for wife, she will be too near kin unto him, and they shall be at the head of a weak generation. So forget not my saying, because obedience is sweet and gives strength to generations who practice it.” Then Klose-kur-beh said to the man, “Before I teach you many things, go forth to the soft wood tree by the brook-side that has been torn by the ball of fire; take up one fragment of the wood that have been torn from the tree in your right hand, and face the noon and dip the wood in the water in remembrance of your origin, and bring the wood to me. And because No-ka-mi owes her origin to the stone, I have sent her after a fragment of the stone, and because she is of the stone, knows the nature of it, and will bring forth such is needed to do our work.” When the man had come with the wood, No-ka-mi also came with the stone, and immediately Klosekur-beh began to break the stone with the fragment of the wood saying, “I shall make these things out of stone, so that we, and the children to come after us, shall have tools to use;” and Klose-kur-beh did shave the stone into all kinds of tools for the people to use. And said unto the man, “Take these implements of stone, and you shall share with me the power given me by the Great Spirit. You shall be able to cut the hard wood tree and make for yourselves and those who come after you, bows to shoot with, also vessels that will bear you upon the water. Before I leave you to go to the north-land I shall give you the same power I now have, so you also may be able to shave the stone into tools as you have seen me do this day. One particular duty above all I must mention and you must obey; that is, you must teach the people never to leave this land to seek other lands; so when you make yourself a vessel let it be so made that it will only be large enough to serve you on the rivers and lakes, because when I first opened my eyes I beheld large bodies of water all around the land upon which we move and stand; and in the seventy times seven nights the Great Spirit said unto me, ‘There shall be other people live on the land as well as your people.’ ” And this I learned from the Great Spirit,—that he made another taboo defining the degrees of kinship that are (and are not) permissible for mating. You shall be able to cut the hard wood tree and make for yourselves . . . vessels that will bear you upon the water : probably a reference to wooden dugout canoes that preceded the later development of lighter, more maneuverable birch-bark canoes



C h a p t e r On e

111

man like me, but that he bade him go toward the setting of the sun, and he shall some day come to this land from the rising of the sun— There must be still another man in some other part of the world; because when I called forth the fishes as food for man, three kinds obeyed—one red fish—one white fish—one black fish. The white fish and the black fish are yet in the deep water, waiting to be called forth by men of their color. These men shall be one white and one black. And further there shall be three seasons, a season for each man. One shall be for the growing of plants, and this growing season shall be pleasant to mankind, because it will bring forth many beautiful colors, pleasing to the eye. There shall be a season when the plants shall be gathered as the people wants them, and every plant shall show when it is ready to be gathered, it will turn dark in color; after this season has passed, the last season shall come,—a season when everything must be prepared for its coming. The one who is not prepared for it shall suffer in many ways; cold and hungry shall he be, because the season that is to come shall destroy everything; therefore take warning; when you see the plants taking in its beautiful color, and the trees shake off their green leaves, then the last season is at hand, then shall its breath be felt. Even the rivers and the lakes shall close up its waters to keep the fishes in the deep. Then shall come the last season in its white robe, which shall cover the whole land and shall occupy it five moons. All this shall come once in every twelve moons. The growing season shall be the Red man’s season. The gathering season shall be the Black man’s season, and the cold season shall be the White man’s season. The seasons were divided by the Great Spirit, and because the Red man obeyed the first teaching given unto him, he shall enjoy a pleasant one. And because the Black man did not obey when told to look upon the earth when he first opened his eyes, he shall always wait to follow the bidding of his brother; and because the White man wanted to stay on the land where he first opened his eyes and wanted the Great Spirit to give him all he beheld, the Great Spirit bade him go toward the setting of the sun. The Great Spirit saw that the [white] man he had made wanted the whole world, therefore he sent him to chase the sun; when he comes to the great waters he shall make large vessels, so he can chase the sun across the great And because the Black man did not obey . . . he shall always wait to follow the bidding of his brother : an obscure rationalization for the subordinate position of African Americans during Nicolar’s time

112

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

waters, because he wants all the world; he shall slay his brother because he wants all things; he shall know no one because he wants the power over all the earth. The first born shall slay the next kindred to himself for the want of power and possession. Power and possession shall be so sweet to him, that it will turn his nature to disobedience; even the first woman shall disobey the Great Spirit, and bring death unto mankind,—who shall be sent forth to seek food. He will not heed the sayings and warnings of the Great Spirit but shall continue in the ways that he likes, until the Great Spirit shall be so provoked he will send a great rush of water, and all the bad shall be drowned,—but a few saved, who will continue to live good, and shall increase until they be like the sand of the earth; and shall be able to use all things for their convenience and comfort. Great men shall be put to rule, and the rulers shall be many; each ruler will want all the power over the others; this the Great Spirit will call bad, and the Great Spirit will come among them in the form of a man like unto themselves, and will stay among them, and teach them the way he wishes them to live. But their love of power will be so great they will slay the great spirit unto death. The Great Spirit will show them that man hath not the power to destroy him, and he shall arise before them, and shall go up beyond their reach. His teaching to them shall be hard to understand because they did not stop to listen to his words while he taught them. The Great Spirit who is so good, will show them that, revenge is not good, and he will let them occupy the land for the purpose of mending their ways. He will only say to them that He will never come to them again in peace and that they shall not come to Him until they come like the little babes. A line shall be drawn between Himself and them—humil The first born shall slay . . . : reference to the story of Cain and Abel in Genesis 4:8–11 even the first woman shall disobey . . . : reference to Eve’s disobedience in the garden of Eden and its repercussions in Genesis 3 he will send a great rush of water . . . : reference to Noah and the great flood in Genesis 6–9 the Great Spirit will come among them in the form of a man . . . : Jesus Christ they will slay the great spirit unto death : the crucifixion he shall arise before them . . . : the resurrection go up beyond their reach : Christ’s ascension to heaven come like the little babes : “Suffer the little children to come unto me,” Matthew 19:14



C h a p t e r On e

113

iation and obedience only will save them. The sweetness of the earth and love of power will destroy them. Before the day of destruction comes, this man shall have enjoyed all the power and possession he desires, and he shall have tasted the sweetness of the earth. When he sleeps he shall sleep on a bed of flowers scented with roses, he need only reach forth his hand to grasp all things for his comfort; he will draw things for his convenience from the water, from the air, and from deep down in the earth; and the Great Spirit shall be looking on; for this is the time that the man is about to forget the death of the Great Spirit—The man not having repented, is to dig a pit in the water, the air, and the earth, wherein he shall fall. After he shall have dug these pits, then the Great Spirit shall show the man His power. He shall shake the earth, because the substance of the water, air and earth have been drawn out, and used for comfort sake, and all these things have been left like the empty hornet’s nest shall cave into these great pits, and the people shall fall into them, like the sand; And the powerful man shall be no more—Then the Great Spirit shall call me forth, toward the noon sun, to teach you more. The putting to death of the Great Spirit will come to pass, in a far off land.

the substance of the water, air and earth have been drawn out, and used for comfort sake, and all these things have been left like the empty hornet’s nest : The resources of the world have been selfishly wasted and depleted; the world has been emptied of its bounty.4 great pits, and the people shall fall into them : See “the shaft of the bottomless pit,” Revelations 9:1–2.

Chapter II. With the aid of May May, Klose-kur-beh destroyed the Serpent.—The Sea Voyage.

Because I [i.e., Klose-kur-beh] make mention of the awful day coming you must not make yourself afraid, as the Great Spirit will not bring this upon you, or your children. It will always be plain to you that your brother and you are two; you are red, and he white. The Great Spirit has established His number with you both. His number with you is seven, while with your brother it shall be three, and because his numbers are few, he shall live fast, and pass away quickly; and because your numbers are many you shall live slow, and shall linger a long while beyond your brother. All these bad things will come to pass across the big water, therefore I must warn you not to build large vessels that will bear you across, so that you will not have a hand in taking the life of the Great Spirit. When the Great Spirit sees that you obey this warning you will escape His wrath, and He will show you how much He loves you; He will cause your children to be born in the same form in which He made the first man. There will not be a child born deformed, neither will any be killed by lightning; they shall escape the floods and earthquakes, and when the beast bites you, you will not go crazy with him, though crazy he be; and when you cut your hand or your foot, your jaws will not close up like the beasts. These seven : sacred number identified with a traditional Penobscot worldview1 three : probably an old association of the white man with the trinitarian religious teachings brought by the first French Catholic missionaries and carried on by subsequent generations of priests across the big water : across the ocean you will not have a hand in taking the life of the Great Spirit : Klose-kurbeh’s people will not participate in (or bear any guilt for) the crucifixion. when the beast bites you, you will not go crazy : You will not contract rabies from the bite of a rabid animal. your jaws will not close up : reference to tetanus (or lockjaw), contracted by both humans and animals, usually from a puncture wound



C h a p te r T wo

115

promises shall be with you as long as you keep yourselves within the bounds of my teaching. Knowing that many temptations will come to you—you shall become weak in mind, and shall want to believe some other teachings, it is well for me to say to you, that the white man will feel it as a duty to his children to seek new lands for them, and that he will not rest until he finds the land the Great Spirit gave unto you. He shall not pass away without first having put his foot upon all the lands that have been made; therefore look for him always. The first sign of his coming shall appear to you in the form of a swan towards the rising of the sun; this shall be his bird and you shall know it, because it will be white. If his coming proves an injury to your ­children, drive him away; and if the power given unto you, bye and bye, is not strong enough send up a cry to the north-land, and you shall get help; and when the help comes he shall flee to his own land, and when he has fled, all the fragments he has left behind him you take and keep, and use it to protect your children, because it shall be the first fragment of contention. When he brings his women and children, he will come to stay, and he shall want all the land, because the land will be so sweet to him. The first that come shall not want to allow his own kind to share with him; they shall slay one another for the possession of it. Take no hand in their fights, because the Great Spirit did not make the land for brothers to fight for; He made it for love’s sake. Woe unto you when the temptation overpowers you and you take hand in his fights, because he shall have the way that he can put you in front of him, and you shall receive all the blows and be slain for his gain; and the two brothers shall make peace between themselves over your body that has been slain for the land because you have forgotten my teaching. I must say to you, watch him closely, because the repentance he is to undergo is great, and he will ask you to help him repent, and he will say to you that the “Great Spirit died for him,” he will show you the things that caused the death of the Great Spirit and he will teach you to bow down to these things; and bow you may; but never forget that the Great Spirit is in the air, in the sun, moon, and in all things which your eyes can see.—Here the teaching of Klosekur-beh ended.

a swan towards the rising of the sun : a white-sailed vessel from the east the north-land : Klose-kur-beh’s abode after he leaves the (red) people

116

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

I shall now enter into the details of his works. First he made the woman to select a hard wood tree for him to cut, and he went forth, and began to cut the tree into pieces with the stone implement he had made; he cut this only to show the man how the tools must be used, and then he gave the implement to the man and bade him to go forth, and make for himself things he needed; in making the necessaries of life, he told him to take the skin off the white wood tree, and make for himself a vessel that will bear him upon the water. And said unto the man I shall now clean the earth of all obstacles, and shall also continue to make for you and your children, all the tools of stone until such time a power be given you, to make them yourselves. Now when you make the bow to shoot with make an arrow also, and make it so that the end next toward the animal be pointed; you shall burn the end so it shall be hard, and when you send it forth it will penetrate into the body and the animal shall fall dead so that you can prepare it for food. Fish you can not shoot with a bow and arrow; therefore you must kill a bird, and take from the bird’s breast next to the neck, a small bone you shall find which is bent, and having two prongs,—rub one prong upon a stone so it will wear to a sharp point; and you shall strip the bark of a small bush of the Wik-a-bee kind, and work it into fine strings, and twist the strings so it will make a long line, and the line you shall fasten unto the blunt end of the bone, and you shall cut a small pole of the hard wood tree, and fasten the other end of the line on to the small end of the pole, and you shall put fragments of meat on the sharp point of the bone, and go and cast the meat into the water, and the fish shall bite the meat and shall pull the meat, line and pole, then [you, i.e., the man] draw him unto the land. And when the time comes that you need a vessel to bear you upon the water, you shall first cut from the soft wood tree, strips of it so small you can easily bend, and the strips shall be in length according to the vessel wanted; both ends shall come to a point, so it will cut the water when you make it go. The vessel must be propelled by the power of your arms and hands with a paddle made from the hard wood tree. Some thin strips of the soft wood you shall shave out for lining; there shall be two linings, one length-wise, and one cross-wise; after these are ready you shall level and smooth the ground, and lay the bark of the white wood tree on the ground, and cut the bark on each side, so

Wik-a-bee : brown ash



C h a p te r T wo

117

you can shape it to a point on each end, and lay the top frame on the bark and then turn up the side flaps of the bark closely to the frame, and you shall sew the side flaps together with strips of the roots of the soft wood tree, and you shall make holes through the bark, with the tail of the shell fish So-ba-qui-dole-beh, “horse shoe,” that you find on the sea shore; after sewing up the seams you shall raise the frame to the top of the bark and sew the bark on to the frame; it will then be ready to receive the two linings; and the seams you shall close up with the sap of the pitch wood tree called Puk-go, “pitch,” so that the water will not enter into the vessel; after this is done your vessel will be ready to bear you upon the water. Klose-kur-beh said, now that you have all your “Ar-wa-kur-gan,” (tools) to make “Ar-quee-dun,” (canoe) “Tur-by,” (bow) “Par-queh,” (arrow.) You can make all these things when you want them, and when the time comes, and before your sons shall take unto themselves wives, each man shall go forth into the forest, with the bow and arrow and eat what he takes in hunting, and shall cover his body with the skins. Seventy times seven moons shall he be absent from your people; he shall then return and take unto himself a wife. In seven days when the sun is highest I will come again to repeat to you these same things. Seventy times seven, shall I come, but before I leave you this day, I will say, “The first born you shall call “Na-mun,” (son) and the second shall be called “Na Doose” (daughter.) Here Klose-kur-beh left the husband and wife to themselves, only returning every seventh day to teach them until the allotted time had been fulfilled; after which the man and wife went their way, as well as Klose-kur-beh and No-ka-mi, so nothing remarkable can be said of the man, during a long period. There is much to be said of the woman; the details of which will be given later. First we will examine the works of Klose-kur-beh, because it is clear that his mission was to clean the whole earth. He now goes to work to subdue the animals and beasts, so that man will not have much trouble So-ba-qui-dole-beh : sea turtle “horse shoe” : probably a reference to the horseshoe crab, once considered by the Penobscot a kind of turtle Puk-go : pitch or gum made from tree sap “Ar-wa-kur-gan” : implement or tool “Na-mun” : literally my son (since “na” indicates possessive my) “Na Doose” : literally my daughter (since “na” indicates possessive my)

118

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

in conquering them afterwards. In those days as has been said before, the beast sought after man’s life, not only devouring him when they met, but also roving through the forest seeking after him. The man and woman were in constant fear lest they be devoured. Klose-kurbeh, who saw the condition of things, went forth to meet all the ferocious roving beasts; he called each one to him and these that obeyed, he asked if they were willing to become small; and all that came with willingness he transformed into small animals and covered them with fine fur. Those that hesitated and lingered behind, he changed smaller and with coarse hair. One animal when asked if he was willing to be changed answered “No,” and immediately made a leap upon the branches of the tree, and looked down upon Klose-kur-beh from the high branches and said, “When man leaps from branch to branch as I, then shall I submit to his bidding.” Then Klose-kur-beh said, “Because from the branches of the tree you choose to bark at man—be it so—but as you are to leap from branch to branch your great weight will break the branches down therefore, you need to become small so you can travel on the branches of the trees,” and immediately the animal became small and Klose-kur-beh called him “Miqu-go-a” (squirrel.) When Klose-kur-beh looked around he saw a very large animal, much larger than those near him, and the form of his body was not like the others—his back was the shape of the half moon with a very small head for the body, with large but thin ears hanging down each side of his head; eyes and mouth small and the upper lip so long he could reach out with it seven paces and up among the branches of the trees; and there were two long horns on each side of his long lip. When Klose-kur-beh called him he would not answer, but would swing his long lip to the right, then left, up, then down, with great force, shaking his head each time. Seven times Klose-kur-beh called him forth—seven times did the animal show violence, and after seven times repeating this manner of disobedience, said to Klose-kur-beh, “No, I will not go forth to man and humble myself to obey his bidding; I will never obey the bidding of my enemy as long as he can not show the power and strength that I can. Even the trees bend when I touch them; I can break the branches with my long lip and tear up the willing to become small : Megafauna, like the now-extinct giant ground sloth, were once widely distributed across North America and may have been known to the ancestors of the Penobscots.2



C h a p te r T wo

119

earth when I choose; and when I meet your children, they can only save themselves by running out of my way; and woe unto them that I can reach with my lip, I will dash them against my teeth so that my teeth will go through them. Seven of your children can I hang on my two teeth and go my way to meet more. Their weapons I do not fear, because my skin is so thick and hard even the hair will not grow out of it; and my flesh so deep that covers my life, there can nothing reach that life which can be brought against it by your children; therefore I will repeat and say no. Enemies we entered the land and enemies let us live in it; man, go your way, and I will go my way.” At this saying Klose-kur-beh paused with sorrow; immediately a spirit of thought came unto him, and he said to the animal—“Because your body is great you will not come to the bidding of man—your pride lay in the thickness of your skin and the great depth of your flesh. This is vanity, “pride will stand only for a moment,” and woe unto you “Par-sar-dokep-piart.”—mammoth, for in a little while, your pride will fall with your body. This will show my children that there is a power somewhere which is far greater than your power that can protect them from any violence you can press against them. There will be no need of teaching a lesson to those that will come after you, because there will be none, because when the power does its work, it will be final, none of your kind will escape, but will all perish alike. My children shall stand around and gaze upon your bones; and the bones will last as long as the world stands, but your skin and flesh that gives you so much pride will never be seen by any of my children,” and immediately a dark cloud arose from the setting of the sun approaching very low toward where Klose-kur-beh and the animal was standing, and a loud voice came unto Klose-kur-beh, saying, “Depart from the spot immediately,—you and the animals that obey you, because the howling of the brute will be great; but greater will be the roaring of the heavens, to drown his howls;” and Klose-kur-beh obeyed the warning and departed with all the animals that obeyed him, and immediately “pride will stand only for a moment” : probably a paraphrase of Proverbs 16:18 : “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” “Par-sar-do-kep-piart.”—mammoth : a large prehistoric elephant, now extinct, that once ranged widely over North America3 My children shall stand around and gaze upon your bones : Mammoth remains have been found over every continent except Australia and South America.

120

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

the clouds began to roar very loud all over the heavens and the lightning shooting in every direction, and the howling of the animal was heard no more. When the clouds passed away there was a great calm; and when the night came, the heavens at the north land began to turn into a beautiful white, and the white began to dance among the stars of the heaven, dancing toward the noon, until the white covered all the heavens, and Klose-kur-beh called it, “Nee-bur-bann;—night dawn,” or the northern lights. After this great event Klose-kur-beh rested seven moons; and after resting seven moons he went forth to clear the water, and to clear the rivers and lakes of its obstruction. To do this it was necessary that he should make for himself a canoe of bark, and to make it in the same manner that he taught the man. After he had made the canoe, and put it in the water he went forth upon the water to find obstructions. He found branches and roots of trees in all the rivers and lakes so that the canoe could not pass, because every branch that had fallen into the water, had more life than the ones on the land, the water gave to it more life than the land did; when he began to tear up the branches, the parts that lay next to the bottom had sprouted and rooted fast on to the bottom; but with the aid of the spiritual Power, he was able to dislodge every branch. Not only the branches that lay at the bottom of the rivers sprouted, but the virtue of the water gave great growth to them so that they reached from one shore to the other shore of the rivers; likewise he found things the same upon all the lakes. Although having such spiritual power, that had he wished, he could with one stroke of his hand remove all obstructions, but no,—such was not his object; he wanted to show the man that he must not always wait for spiritual help, but do the things with his own labor, only appealing to spiritual power when necessity required it. Therefore when the allotted seventy times seven moons had ended, his work was not finished, and he marveled with a great sorrow at the slowness of his work. Immediately there came a voice from the heavens saying, “Marvel not man, at the slowness of your work, because you must know, that the work of man under the water must not be the same as on the land; man must not be hasty when he works under the water, because if great growth : possible reference to the megaflora, or extremely large vege‑ tative growth, that flourished briefly during the Pleistocene epoch in parts of North America



C h a p te r T wo

121

he be hasty he will only bring death unto himself. Therefore do your work slowly so that when your work is done it will last forever. Therefore you are allowed seven times the allotted time of seventy times seven to do your work, so marvel not, but go on with good cheer because this work must be done now, and after it is finished nature will not obstruct the waters, and no more such work be wanted done. Hereafter when man works under the water it will be only to find the things he had dropped there,” and Klose-kur-beh obeyed the voice from Heaven, and went on cheerfully with his work. How long a time it took him to finish the work he seemed to have kept that to himself. All these things Klose-kur-beh did without having a war with anything until his labors were completed. But upon returning to his people from his work by way of the sea he found the waters very dark in color and the stench of it was great, because there had been a great calm over all the sea, following the destruction of the “Par-sar-dokep-piart,”—Mammoth, and the dancing of the “Nee-bur-bann,”— Northern lights, consequently the waters became stagnant and foul. And as he moved along he saw a serpent at a long distance, as it lay on the surface of the dark water. Upon nearing the monster, it raised its head and began to run out its firelike tongue rapidly at him; by this action he was well aware that this was another deadly enemy; so he steered his canoe directly for the monster and the serpent reared up in a fearful manner and seemed ready to crush the canoe and the man, but at that moment “May-May,”—“Red headed wood pecker” flew between the man and the serpent and danced in the air for awhile, seemed undecided which way to fly until it saw the serpent make for the man, then the bird flew toward the man and lit upon the bow end of the canoe and said to him, “Be quick and take your bow and shoot the arrow at the smallest part of the reptile’s body,” and Klosekur-beh obeyed the bird and shot the arrow but it only rebounded without doing the intended execution, and the bird flew, picked up and brought back the arrow, saying, “Aim nearer the tail,” the arrow went again only to rebound as before. Six times this was repeated and six times met with the same results, but on the seventh, the bird flew in advance of the arrow and with its beak pointed to Klose-kur-beh serpent : possible reference to large water-dwelling creatures, now extinct, known to Native peoples through ancient cultural memory or fossil remains 4

122

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

where to aim, Klose-kur-beh obeyed and sent the arrow swiftly to the spot very near the end of the tail; this broke the serpent’s back bone, which caused him to recoil in death. In the excitement caused by this determined effort on the part of both man and serpent while struggling for an ascendency over each other, Klose-kur-beh did not notice what was following the conquest just gained, until “May-May,”—wood-pecker, called his attention to it, and upon looking around he beheld that the whole sea was in blood, and the body of the serpent just slain laying on the surface, its head toward the land, and many times seventy smaller reptiles coming out of its mouth, all heading for the land; May-May said, “Let them go in peace, they can never grow large enough to do you harm as long as they stay on the land,” and Klose-kur-beh did let them go in peace as May-May commanded, and after these sayings MayMay wanted Klose-kur-beh to put a mark upon him for his services in helping the man complete his work of subduing the earth. In obedience to May-May’s wishes, Klose-kur-beh turned his canoe which was then heading for the north land, and made the bow point toward the noon, looked up, and with his right hand dipped the head of the arrow into the sea of blood and put the blood on May-May’s head as a mark of true friendship. When this was done, the whole sea became clear and pure, and May-May said, “Because the serpent has chosen the sea as the battle ground to fight the man, and as its blood been spilt in the sea, let the water be bitter to taste so that no man or beast shall want to drink it,”—and it was so. After this May-May, the bird, said to Klose-kur-beh, “In friendship we came unto the world, and in friendship let us live in it. Because you did not call me nor any of my kind when you were changing all the animals and beasts—making them smaller, I have been watching the movements of your enemies, and I have seen that the serpent was very mad when the power of the Great Spirit destroyed the existence of “Par-sar-do-kep-piart” and his wrath has been so great that he came here where he thought no power could reach him because when the rush of clouds and wind comes he can sink himself to the bottom out of harm’s way, and here put the blood on May-May’s head : explanation of the red markings on the head of the pileated woodpecker let the water be bitter to taste : explanation of the origin of salty (bitter) sea water



C h a p te r T wo

123

he has been waiting many times seven moons for your coming, and has held this calm over the sea which followed the destruction of Par-sar-do-kep-piart and the dancing of the heavens, so that the sea water became stagnant; but now the monster is gone and his dead body you will see no more. And because the way of the whole land and sea is clear I must depart from you for awhile; you go your way and after which let your kind put on his head and body the covering of me and my kind; it will make him proud because it showeth the greatness of our friendship. There will be no more trouble between man and beast; your work is now complete, you can go your way to your children who need your teaching,” and May-May immediately flew away towards the setting of the sun. When Klose-kur-beh turned the bow of his canoe toward the north land he beheld not the body of the serpent on the surface of the water, but instead there was a beautiful ripple all over the sea caused by the gentle breeze from the direction of the setting sun, to where May-May had flown. It was here, when Klose-kur-beh for the first time felt tired; May-May going away made him feel lonely and he wanted to see his own people. When night came this same lonely feeling was still upon him, he prepared a place for a night’s rest. After the darkness had come and before laying down to sleep, to cheer himself, Klose-kur-beh did sing. When this was done, the seven trees that stood nearest bent their tops down and listened to the singing of Klose-kur-beh, and when the singing was over, the largest of the seven straightened its body up and said, “How grateful the heart of man ought to be when he can bring cheer to himself by singing when lonely. When my kind and I sing, we sing in distress; when the fury of the winds shake our limbs we sing in wailing,—our roots are many and strong and cannot move to avoid the fury of the heavens. We stand and wait for whatever befall[s] us. Because you can move at your pleasure do not linger here, but on the morrow when the sun rises take your canoe, and with your companion go forth toward the sun, heed not the moving of the sun during the day, but keep that same course that you take from here and keep it seven days and seven your kind put on his head and body the covering of me and my kind : reference to the traditional Algonquian use of bird and eagle feathers in headdresses and as decorations on items of clothing your companion : the dog whom Klose-kur-beh will shortly encounter

124

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

nights, and on the seventh, when the sun is highest, you will come to a swift water which will turn your canoe toward the noon, and the swift water will bear you, your canoe and companion very fast in the direction you ought to go. Seven moons you will be borne that way, and after the seven moons have passed take your paddle and turn the bow of your canoe toward the setting sun and in seven days from that time you will find land and trees. When you find land it will be like this land and the trees the same as we. Your work will then be complete because you shall then have found that there is a spirit in all things, and where there is a spirit there is knowledge, and where there is knowledge there is power, and as there is knowledge in us, we, the seven trees, will show you the power that is in us and will smooth the way for you the whole time of your journey. When you reach the swift water call it “Etto-chi-psi-tuk,—Gulf Stream.” But you must not claim it for your convenience alone, because this swift water was made for the convenience of three men,—one red, one white and one black man. The course of the current will change four times; when the time comes that either of these three men wish to use it[, it] will change its course to suit his convenience,—a course for the red man, a course for the white man and one for the black man. After each has had a share it will return then to the same course as you will find in seven days hence. On the morrow when you depart from here, take nothing for food because it will be brought and laid before you each day by your faithful friends. When you depart on the morrow put a mark on me so that you may know me when you return, because from here you must return to your people. When you reach the end of your great journey on the swift water and have found land and trees, turn to the north land which will bring you back to here, and from here you will know which way to find your people.” After this saying, the other six trees bent back straight and all was silent and Klose-kur-beh went to sleep. When the morrow came and when the first dawn broke forth to tell that the sun was coming, a loud barking of an animal was heard coming from the direction of the setting sun. Klose-kur-beh answered it seven times, when the animal “Etto-chi-psi-tuk,—Gulf Stream” : Etymologically these syllables translate as “the place where there is a large substantial current.” The Gulf Stream is a warm ocean current in the Atlantic off eastern North America; it originates in the Gulf of Mexico, passing through the Straits of Florida, and moves northeastward from there.



C h a p te r T wo

125

came shaking its tail, and with ears dropped down on the side of his head, and having in his mouth large fragments of meat which he laid at the feet of the man, and said, “I have come to stay with you, I shall stay where and when you stay, and I shall go when and where you go, When all the animals got together after all the fear had passed at the destruction of “Par-sar-do-kep-pi-art,” we all lay down to talk about your good heart in saving us from such awful destruction, and I was sent to be your companion. Knowing that after all trouble will have passed away, man’s feeling shall then come to him; there shall be a time for him to weep, and a time for him to laugh, a time to be happy and a time to be lonely, but in time of loneliness you will have a great comfort in me, because when you are in hunger I will find game for you to kill that you may be filled. I have brought this as the food for myself because before I started we all of us heard the trees talk with you. I know where you and I are going this day, although the food I have brought is only enough for a little while, yet it will last during our goings, though long it be. And as there is a spirit in all things, the united spirit of myself and those that have sent me will have power in this matter. I fear not hunger.” And when Klose-kur-beh heard this his loneliness left him and he said to the animal, “welcome Arlmoose,”—dog, Then the man got the canoe ready to start, and while waiting for the sun to rise he put a mark upon the tree, chipping off the bark on the side toward the rising sun, while the Arl-moose divided the fragments of meat of the “Ta-mar-queh—beaver,” took the liver and buried it deep in the ground in front of the spot on the tree, saying, “The nature of me and my kind will help us much in finding this spot.” Then the dog took the other meat and the tail of the beaver and carried it forth to the canoe and laid it therein and carefully covered it with the “Kus-kul-siarl,—sea-weed.” When the sun arose they started on their journey in that direction and kept that course paying no attention to the moving of the sun, and when the sun was highest May-May came to them with a load of food and water for the man which he laid before him, saying, “Eat and drink and be filled,” and after May-May had departed on his journey back, Klose-kur-beh took up the food and called it “Pun-Nuk,— Ground Nuts” and did eat of it, and drank the water that was in the vessel which he called “Weeh-po-lark-sun-suk,—Pitcher plant,” and Klose-kur-beh called it good. On the morrow at the same time there came two May-May’s who brought food and water for the man, and

126

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

when the third day came three May-May’s came, and brought the same kind of food, and on the fourth day, four May-May’s came with the same, but this time two “Weeh-po-lark-sun-suk” were brought. On the fifth day, five May-May’s came, and on the sixth, six MayMay’s came, and on the seventh, seven came which passed the canoe and made a circle, so that their coming to the canoe was from the direction of the rising sun, and the head one of the flock said to the man, “This day we came to you from another direction because it is not good for you to eat one kind of food always. There is much in the earth which is good for man to eat, therefore on the morrow there will be a change made. This day your course will be changed toward your right hand and your journey will be toward the noon, and in that direction you will go to the end of time which the trees have commanded you.” After this saying the May-May’s departed, leaving the man to eat his meal. Klose-kur-beh saw that each time he eat his meal the dog also ate his, but would only eat about half of the beaver’s tail and laid away the other part for the next meal, and would cover it up carefully each time with the sea weed, and Klose-kur-beh noticed that each time when the dog uncovered his food it was whole, the same as it was before he began to eat of it. And while they were eating, the canoe reached the swift water which immediately turned it toward the noon and bore it very fast in that direction, and when the morrow came, when the sun was highest, the seven May-Mays came again bringing to the man a different kind of food which they laid before him, and immediately flew away. Klose-kur-beh saw it was a different kind of food which was taken from under the ground, and he called it “See-pun,—roots of the red lily,” which afterwards became a great dish among the children of the red man. In drifting along in this swift water he saw seven kinds of fish and water animals. The first one seen he called “Ar-kiqu,”—Seal, the next was the “Poo-dapeh,”—Whale; then came the “Sur-bid-yar-maqu,”—Grampus, “Seegar-lur-dee,”—Shark, came next, “Choos-ka-ba-so,—” Porpoise, was also seen, “Noo-kar-mavu,”—Codfish, came next, then came the seventh which he called “Mur-mur-lar-maqu,”—Mackeral. No more “See-pun,—roots of the red lily” : sometimes called the nodding or yellow wood lily, which grows from an edible tuber “Sur-bid-yar-maqu,”—Grampus : probably the marine mammal, Grampus griseus, related to and resembling dolphins but lacking a beak-like snout. The killer whale, Orcinus orca, is also sometimes called a Grampus.



C h a p te r T wo

127

fish were noticed and no more named, and on each day his food was brought to him. On every seventh day a change of food was brought, there being only three vegetable kind, the rest was in berries and fruit. In the first part of his southern trip berries were brought, and toward the end of it, fruit and plums, and at the very last was the vegetable again, with which he was kept until the end of his voyage. The berries were “M’skik-wee-min-sark,”—Strawberries, then the “Sar-tarl,”—Blueberries, also the “Ka-pus-kee-mi-nuk,”—Raspberries, and “Ars-paqu-sall,”—Huckleberries, “Arspump-squa-minal,”—Gooseberries, and the “Chi-loom-nal,”—Grapes, were brought, also the “Ar-do-ho-do-arl”—Bananas. The May-Mays also brought “War-sar-wa-si-sall,”—Oranges, and at last the “Arp-cha-da-sarl,”— Potatoes, and he said, “As this kind of food will be the most common, yet [i.e., still or even today] the principal food for man, we will bring no other kind as you are soon to reach the land, after which you can gather your own food. When the allotted time for sailing had passed, when the sun was highest, the May-Mays came with the same kind of food, and after laying the same before the man he said, “We will now all of us take leave and bid adieu to the swift water, and when we are up high and have taken our course, you and your companion turn the bow of your canoe toward the right hand and follow us, keep that same course until you reach the land. As we leave the swift water, we must first show our reverence to the trees for their goodness in keeping the waters quiet during your long voyage.” Immediately all the May-Mays arose, first going toward the north land, then turning toward the right, toward the rising sun, then to the noon, and again turning to the right, heading to the direction of the setting sun, and one bird sang out, “Pess-aqu,—one,” which caused all the birds to turn again to the right and fly in the same circle as before. Again the leader counted, saying “Niss,—two,” which caused them to take another turn, and another circle was made, each time going higher, and when the counting place was reached “Narss— three” was counted and another circle was made, and “Eaoo,—four,” “War-sar-wa-si-sall,”—Oranges : etymologically, this translates as mini-pumpkins; perhaps a reference to a kind of squash cultivated by Native peoples Potatoes : Native to the Andes, potatoes were first exported to Europe by the Spaniards and then introduced to North America from Europe ca. 1600.5 adieu : French for farewell or goodbye

128

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

was counted and every time a circle was made a count was taken of it, “Nun,—five,” Na-qua-ters,—six,” “Tur-par-wurs,—seven,” and on the seventh circle the birds were quite high in the air, and continued on their way to the setting sun. Klose-kur-beh turned his canoe to the right and followed the MayMays which soon flew out of his sight. For seven days he kept that course—each noon his food and water was brought to him. On the seventh day when the sun was rising, only one May-May came who after laying the food before the man said, “This day I have done all my work for your sake and when night comes, you will rest your body on the land among the trees, and because the trees have commanded you to go forth and find the living water which the Great Spirit has made for man’s convenience, so when the night comes when you take your rest, before going to sleep, pour all the water that is still remaining in the “Weeh-po-lark-sun-suk,” around the roots of the largest tree seven times; and all the trees will rejoice because this will be your thanksgiving and you will have given all that you have, and each morning when you have risen, go on your way toward the north-land and find your people; I will come no more; and he flew away leaving the man and dog to finish the voyage. Klose-kur-beh watched the bird, who flew away very low and he could see fishes jump up out of the water as the bird was flying past, but May-May flew so fast no fish could catch him; and while yet he was watching the bird and as the May-May flew out of his sight he saw beyond, the dark specks of the land; and when night came he was on it, and immediately prepared a place to rest for the night, and before going to sleep did pour all the water he had around the roots of the largest tree as May-May had commanded. When morning came the dog got up and shook himself and said “I have eaten the last of my food, I took it while you were in your sleep, and this day my work for your sake begins; whatever you want I shall find, but you must prepare it to your own liking—Give me not of it, but give me the crumbs, that is my portion.” Straightway the dog went until he came near to the edge of the water and there put his head down and began to dig the wet earth with his two paws, and “Tur-par-wurs,—seven” : an archaic form that etymologically translates as two-plus-five, here again used as a ritualized number of great significance 6



C h a p te r T wo

129

soon brought out of it a shell fish and brought it to the man and laid it at his feet saying, “Take and eat, and be filled,” and Klose-kur-beh did break the shell and did eat the “Aiss”—Clam. After this was done the two started on their journey toward the north-land, keeping their course very near the land along the coast.

Chapter III. Klose-kur-beh’s hunting.—The first mother changed into corn and tobacco.

Nothing can be said of events during this long northern journey, nor the exact time it took to accomplish it, only that when Klose-kur-beh reached his people he told them it took many seven times seven moons journey from the time he turned to north land to find them. So by his statement[, he indicated] that the swift water must have carried him very fast southward. He also mentioned having found the different kinds of food the same as the May-May brought to him while on his journey southward, and how he gathered and lived on the same after turning northward. One incident which was brought about by his companion, the dog, he spoke of with much emphasis, and described it minutely, and designated the place, and told the people he had put a mark on the spot which would stand as long as his people existed. The following was his story, “One day when we, (meaning himself and the dog,) had arrived at a place of a high mountain whose slopes run down to the waters’ edge, the dog, who was asleep in the canoe, while I was paddling, got up, began to breathe hard, putting his nose up in the air as if to catch the freshness of it, and when he finally turned his head toward the high mountain, in which position he held himself for a long while, turned to me and said, ‘Master, here in this part of the north land man must needs have some meat to eat because such he will find from here north,—berries and fruit are good in their season and places, but the time is coming when these will lose their season; therefore when night comes, get your bow and arrow ready for using, because at the breaking of day to-morrow I will go up on the high mountain we have just passed;—there is now feeding on the bark of the mountain trees, moose, whose meat is good for you and your kind

a high mountain : possibly Mount Kineo the water’s edge : possibly Moosehead Lake1



C h a p te r T h r e e

131

and me and my kind, the virtue of which gives strength to the body and makes the heart glad to those who are fortunate enough to get it, which will always be valued highly by your people because it can be saved to keep many days, yea, many moons. On the morrow, before the sun is highest I will drive one to you and when I do this, shoot and kill. After you have killed the animal you shall immediately open his body: the belly you shall open with your stone knife and the intestines you shall give me, not from your hand to my mouth, but throw it in front of me, because this is my portion and that will be the way you will give it me. If my saying is not obeyed I will lose all the nature of my kind. If I get fat on the best part of the animal in common with you, then the power of smelling the sweet meat of the animal will be taken away from me, so beware and give me what belongs to me.’ ” When night came the two companions rested, and when the next dawn came the man awoke from his sleep and upon looking around for his companion found him not, he beheld that the dog’s bed was vacant; immediately he got ready his stone knife, bow and arrow, and in a little while he heard the barking of his dog on the mountain. The sound of the barking indicated that the dog was going toward the water, and in another moment he saw the animal swiftly running among the trees and bushes and then came out of them and straightway he made for the water, and into it he went. When he reached it he began to swim across the water toward the other land, and the dog also came out, but instead of going into the water, ran on the shore, passed the animal and kept on his way until he reached a point nearest the other land, when he also went in, and swam so fast that he reached it before the animal did; the dog ran along the shore in front of the animal and would not let him land, and when the man saw this he took his canoe and other things, went forth to get near the animal so to kill it, and when he had come in front of it, the animal saw that the man and the dog had reached the shore before him, turned to go to the other land; when the man saw what the animal was doing, he followed it and just before reaching the other land came upon it and with bow and arrow did slay the animal and brought the body out of the water on to the land. Upon looking around he beheld his dog afar off sitting on a point of it can be saved to keep . . . many moons : reference to the drying and smoking of moose meat

132

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

land waiting for his portion. So in a moment more he did cut the belly of the animal open with a sharp stone knife and took out the contents and did throw the intestines to his dog who was sitting afar off—and said when he was doing this—“Let this day put a mark on the place of my doings.”—After saying this he went to work to cut the animal and took such parts as he needed for food. He did take the fore part and left the other part for a mark, so that his people might know where he made his first hunt for the large animal. Upon doing this he took out the “Oos-squon,”—Liver, and laid it beside the animal’s body, and then called the other part “Oo-kar-chi,”—Hind part, after which he said, “These things needs be here to mark my works and it shall be so, and the mark shall stand as long as my people exist; and immediately that part of the animal became stone, and the intestines also left a mark across the water from one shore to the other which was a long way. Some parts of the intestines which he threw at his dog, dropped down very near the spot where the body of the animal lay and the other part reached near where the dog was sitting so that the whole part did not break or disconnect but strung along the whole distance which can now be seen, resembling the intestines of an animal, with its white fat and blood on the ledges near the moose body, coming out at where the dog is—All along the whole distance this mark can now be seen; according to the modern measurments and reckoning a distance of seven miles; these intestines lay along the bottom of the sea which can be seen, wherever the water is shallow enough so the bottom can be seen; they lay on the ledges and on the large and small rocks the whole way. When Klose-kur-beh had put the fore part of the moose in his canoe and upon looking up to see the dog he saw there were three—seeing this he departed immediately toward them, but upon nearing the spot discovered that the other two were stone resembling in form, two dogs. When his mistake became know to him he marvelled much and said, “This is very strange. But man must take warning that in all his works, his plans must needs, at times be changed. I have made my plan to have my dog turn into stone and leave it here to mark the place with the other marks. But for this sudden change in my vision—taking two stones for two dogs—making three dogs in number when really there was but one, causes me to All along the whole distance : possibly the bay at Cape Rosier 2 my plan to have my dog turn into stone : i.e., his earlier plan in some way to mark the place where these events transpired3



C h a p te r T h r e e

133

move with more caution. Therefore I must change my plan so that instead of letting my dog turn into stone to mark this place, I shall let the two stones stand for a mark and they shall stand during the pleasure of the people whose number has been established to three. So he called his dog into the canoe and resumed his journey. When the hour came to prepare for a meal he turned his canoe up into a small river, but finding rapids so great he concluded not to ascend further than to the foot of the rapids with the canoe, and wishing to mark the spot where he first cooked his meal after killing large game on his returning journey, took out some meat and carried it to the head of the falls. Not having a kettle to cook his meat and as he wished to cook the meat in water that flowed into the place where the game was killed, he selected a place near the head of the falls and dug out a place in the solid rock with his hands—a hollow place—so it held water—he then made a vessel out of birch bark with which he carried water from the river to fill the stone kettle. While he was absent getting the water the dog also began to dig another hole in the ledge with its paws; seeing on his return what the dog had done, caused him to enquire of the dog why he was digging the hole? The dog replied that it was not good for man and dog to eat out of the same dish. At this Klose-kur-beh said “There will be no need for man and dog to eat out of the same dish because you have already established a form in which you shall receive the meat from the hand of man. In the beginning of our journey north you declared to me that when meal time came you would ask for the fragments of the meal be cast before you. Let this be the rule just as you have requested.” At this the dog stopped digging and laid down waiting for the fragment from the man’s meal. After getting all things ready for cooking and having placed the water and meat in the same kettle, Klose-kur-beh took two fragments of dead and dry wood and facing the sun rubbed the two sticks together until a blaze came, from which he made a large fire and heated stones and put them into the kettle; and the water did boil so that he was able to cook his dinner. After eating the meal the man and the dog returned to the canoe and resumed their journey, leaving the two stone kettles in the ledge as a mark where the first meal was cooked after killing the first large game.

to mark this place : possibly a reference to prominent rocks at Cape Rosier the people whose number has been established to three : the white man leaving the two stone kettles . . . as a mark : possibly Mount Kineo 4

134

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

Nothing more can be said until the place from which the two started was reached, the morning they took their southern trip. Upon reaching the place Klose-kur-beh was almost at a loss to find the exact spot, but the dog went directly to the spot and dug up the fragments of meat that he had buried there the morning they started, and the dog did eat the meat. This ended the sea journey. When night came the man and the dog slept on the same ground where the man slept previous to the sea voyage; and early on the morrow, after carefully laying away the canoe started on the overland journey to the man’s people; the dog leading the way. It took them only seven times seven suns to reach the people, and when it was known that Klose-kur-beh had returned, there was great rejoicing, and as the news spread many came from afar to greet him. He found that during his absence the people had multiplied very much. But he had no difficulty in finding No-ka-mi [grandmother] in the extreme northern part of the land inhabited by the people. And here Klose-kur-beh began to make the stone implements for his people, because there had been a division; the people had divided themselves into clans. As soon as the news of the return of Klose-kur-beh reached the ears of the first mother of the people, she became very much agitated and her action gave much alarm; nothing seemed to give her relief, and she showed a discontented mind day after day. She was yet fair, and it seemed that in all those years which were many, since she became the mother of the first child, her age had not changed; she looked much younger than many of her off-springs, and the husband retained his age equally as well. Both being yet young, the love that existed between them was great; so when the man saw his wife in such a discontented state it grieved him much. He used every means to find out what brought such a discontent to his wife, but all his efforts failed. stone implements : sharp stone-headed hatchets, knives, tools for cutting (trees or meat) and scraping (bark or hides) because there had been a division : possibly a portent of further divisions and divisiveness yet to come which might require stone implements for warfare; more probably a recognition that, as the society became more populous and more complex, increased technologies would be required for survival clans : separate autonomous kinship networks, each associated with and identified by a different totem animal. Among the Penobscot, children take on the clan affiliation of their father.5



C h a p te r T h r e e

135

He loved his wife so much he thought it was out of place to ask her any questions so concluded to wait for further developments. But his waiting was all in vain; instead of the contentment he had hoped for, the discontentment was on the increase and had got to such a stage that the wife absented herself from his presence as the sun neared the noon line each day, and remained away until the shadows would be far toward the rising sun. Finally it had such an effect upon his mind that he lost all control over his patience, which soon reduced his manhood to such an extent that the sense of honor left him, and he determined to watch his wife. By careful watching for a long time he discovered the direction she took in going and would return the same way. He resolved to make further discoveries, so one day just before the time came for her return, he went and hid himself near a river at a point where he could scan its banks for a long distance. His patient waiting was rewarded at last by seeing her coming to the opposite bank, cheerfully singing as she entered to ford the river. While her feet were in the water she seemed to be in a very happy mood, there was brightness in her countenance, and he beheld something trailing behind her right foot which appeared like a long green blade. Upon reaching the shore she stooped down and with her right hand picked off the trail, cast it into the water and the thing floated away. As soon as she had cast the blade from her, the same down cast look spread over her fair brow and with that look she went her way towards home. Soon after the woman had gone, the man came out from his hiding place and immediately began to search for the trail that had been cast into the water which he readily found lodged among the rocks below. Upon examining the thing it proved to be a long green blade of some strange plant, the like of which he had never seen before. While thus holding the blade in his hands a sense of honor returned to him and immediately he put the blade into the water and only gazed upon it while it floated away. Honor and patience having returned unto him he was ready to undergo any and every thing if only he could get the woman to tell him what would bring happiness to her. He resolved to gain her confidence by love, although this had failed in times past, but he made up his mind to try it again, and in that frame of mind he went his way, following his wife. Upon reaching home he found the woman he thought it was out of place to ask her any questions : a sign of respect for her privacy and a gesture of trust

136

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

in the same down cast look. When the sun was going down he called her to come forth to see the beautiful sun, she obeyed and came forth; side by side they stood gazing upon the sun that was going down. Immediately seven little children came and stood in front of them looking into the woman’s face saying, “We are in hunger and the night will soon come; where is the food?” Upon hearing this, water came from the woman’s eyes seven drops came and dropped upon the earth. The man reached forth his right hand and wiped away the tears from the woman’s brow. It moved him so much that his hand shook, seeing this the woman said to the little ones, “hold your peace little ones, in seven moons you shall be filled and shall hunger no more.” With glad hearts the children departed and were seen no more. On seeing this the strong man’s heart was moved and immediately he asked his wife if she would tell him what he could do to make her happy. She answered and said that if he would show love to her that would last while the world stands she would then be happy, not only would she be happy but the whole world be happy. The man answered that he had shown all the love that was in him and if she knew any more love that he could show to tell him, and he would show it in a manner to please her. She answered, that she wanted him to show such a love that all the people might also love her, and that she wanted a love that would last always. The man then said, if it is in my power to bring this about it shall be done. This answer brought brightness to her brow, then turning to the man and casting her eyes fully upon his, said with happiness, “My eyes can meet yours, and before the sun goes down seven times, it must then be the beginning of happiness the world over; and man, if you are ready to hear my request and if you are ready to grant it, I will now make it known.” The man answered as before saying, “If it is in my power your request shall be granted.” Then the woman turned her pleading eyes to him saying, “Take the stone implement, with it slay me unto death,” and the man said, “This is beyond my power, and further it is only the beast that slays mankind, but before the sun goes down seven times I shall answer you.” And before the sun arose the man was on his way to the north land to consult Klose-kur-beh upon the matter, and when the sun was rising on the seventh day he returned. Klose-kur-beh had told him that her request must be granted, because she came to the world for good, and that none could be realized until she had fulfilled her mission. When this was made known



C h a p te r T h r e e

137

to her, her joy was great, and she gave directions as to what should be done. She told the man after he had slain her, to get twisted branches of the small trees and tie the branches around her neck and drag her body to a large open space of land and to drag it all over the open space, and when the flesh was worn away to the bones turn it and wear away the other side, and after he had dragged her body all over the land to bury her bones in the middle of it and then come away, and in seven moons to go and gather all he found on the land,—gather and eat, but not all of it—save some to put in the land again. Let seven moons pass before you put my flesh in the ground again; put it under the ground so the birds will not devour it. My bones you can not eat, but you can burn it, and it will bring peace to you and unto your children. On the morrow when the sun was rising the man did slay the woman and he dragged her body over a large open land and did bury her bones in the center of it as directed. The man did not visit the place until after the seven moons had passed, but others went before the time came and brought from the land long green blades of the plant which the man recognized as the same kind of blade that he saw trailing behind the woman’s feet when fording the river. When the seven moons had passed the man went to the place where his wife’s bones lay and when he came to the place he beheld the place filled with tall plants but not green because the sun had faded them to a yellow shade, and upon examining the stock found substance in them which he tasted and it was sweet, and he called it “Skar-moonal”—Corn, and upon reaching the place where the bones lay he found a plant, large, with broad leaves, without substance; because it was bitter in taste he called it “Ootar-Mur-wa-yeh.”—Tobacco. Upon his return to the people and made known what he had found there was great rejoicing among them and all went to help the man in the the flesh was worn away : the pieces of her flesh become the seed kernels from which corn will grow 6 bury her bones : her bones become the sturdy roots and stalks of the tobacco plant save some to put in the land again : i.e., seed corn Let seven moons pass before you put my flesh in the ground again : reference to the seasonal nature of corn cultivation and the need for human activity in that cultivation My bones you can not eat : tobacco is not edible long green blades : the first spring shoots of a corn stalk found substance in them : the sweet kernels of a corncob

138

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

harvest; all the corn and tobacco were properly taken care of. And here corn and tobacco raising began. The man whose heart had been so heavy with sorrow since slaying his wife, began to be cheerful when seeing such a general rejoicing and happiness so universal. He began to see that granting the request of his wife was for the good of all, and he no longer lay sorrow to his heart. The only perplexity to him was how to dispose of the fruits of the great event. He saw that something must be done and that in the future some wholesome management would be needed. As he was not able to come to a just conclusion of it, he called together seven young maidens and sent them to the north part of the country to get Klosekur-beh to come among them and tell them what to do with the harvest, which was then in the peoples hands. When the seven maidens came forth he charged them with the mission and on the morrow, at the rising of the sun, the young maidens did start on their journey saying that the seven times seventh sun would bring them back and when the shadows began to appear toward the setting of the sun, gather themselves together and await their coming. And when the time arrived, which was appointed by the young maidens, all the people gathered to welcome them home, and when the sun began to cast its shadows toward the setting of the sun the maidens appeared and said, Klose-kur-beh will come immediately.” When the sun was highest, Klose-kur-beh came and immediately the people began to show him the harvest. Upon seeing the great store before him Klosekur-beh showed signs of joy and said, “There was one thing the Great Spirit did not mention to me, therefore we must be careful in our minds what we do with it. And because this has come from the good of a woman’s heart I must first give thanks to the Great Spirit in the name of the seven young maidens who brought the message to me; and immediately he went back to the spot where he first came that noon, and looking up to the sun did give thanks to the Great Spirit, seven times—once for each maiden, and then he began to speak to the people, saying: The first words of the first mother, have come to pass. When she first came she claimed her origin from the beauti And here corn and tobacco raising began : Both crops—corn (or, more properly, maize) and tobacco—are indigenous to the Americas and were probably first domesticated and cultivated by Native peoples in more tropical areas beginning at least five thousand years ago. Some horticulture was practiced among the Native peoples of Maine beginning about AD 10007



C h a p te r T h r e e

139

ful blade of the plant and that her power shall be great and it shall be felt all over the world; that she was all love,—even the beast will steal her body—for the love of it. And now that she has gone into the substance, which every living being will love we must take care that the second seed of the first mother be always with you, because this is her flesh. When you are filled with it [i.e., corn], it gives strength; her bones also have been left behind for your good. These also are the blades of the plant. This blade [i.e., tobacco] will not give strength to the body, but will give strength to the mind; burn it and inhale the smoke it will bring freshness to the mind and your heart will be contented while the smoke of it be in you. These two things must always bring memory to your minds, when you eat remember her, and do the same when the smoke of her bones rises before you; yea more, whatever your work be, stop in your labor until the smoke has all gone to the Great Spirit. And as we are all brothers, divide among you the flesh and bone of the first mother, and let all shares be alike, then the love of your first mother will have been fully carried out. A little more I wish to say for your good. By the change made in your first mother, other changes in the world shall follow. There shall be weeping and shedding of tears, and there shall be rejoicing causing the body to move to suit the joy. There shall be a season to put the seed in the ground, and a season for it to grow and then the harvest shall come. There shall be a season for heat and a season for cold, so prepare yourself for all these, that when each one comes you may be ready for it. The end of my mission among you has now come. I shall leave you and shall hearken no more to your calling, but shall wait the calling of the Great Spirit. Strange things shall happen, but those who bring about the changes will tell you all about them so you may understand them. Here Klose-kur-beh took leave of his people to come no more. Nothing cast such a gloom over the whole country, as did the departure of Klose-kur-beh. The first tears were then shed among the older women. The men were silent for a long time, and after a long continued silence the old men began to strive to cheer up the younger. The cause of their gloom was, that Klose-kur-beh did not recommend any system of organization under which the people might live. When she first came . . . blade of the plant : See the arrival of Nee-gar-oose (Mother) in chapter one. the second seed of the first mother : i.e., corn; her first “seed” was her human progeny.

140

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

For seven suns the people wandered aimlessly about each day. They questioned one another as to what was best to do. Finally it was decided that the seven young maidens—the same who had previously been sent after Klose-kur-beh, be called forth and point out some method which if good, be considered by the old men for adoption. Immediately the young maidens were called forth and the call was obeyed and the young maidens did make their appearance and entered the gathering of the people which was very great. The eldest of the maidens led the way, followed by the others in single file. Upon entering the gathering they all put up their hands over their eyes to hide them when a halt was made and the leader of the maidens then spoke these words: “In purity we seven have lived, and in chastity must we point out to you the way we must all live. First, we want the first Father to be called forth so he may stand in front of us.” When the first Father had been called and was standing in front of the young maidens, the leader continued her saying, calling the man “Na-mi-ter-qui”—Father, you have chosen us again to help you. In purity we seven have lived, yet we are not worthy to gaze upon your brow on this so important an occasion, therefore we have covered our eyes. Our eyes being covered we cannot see what is around us, yet we can see with our hidden eyes the way which will be good for your children. First, you shall call forth the first born seven men, and with them you shall hold council upon all matters and the way the people shall live. Teach them to hearken unto the older men. This will be good, because the more a man sees the more he knows, and a man can learn more in two days than in one day. Therefore heed your elders. Be very careful and have all this done in seven moons, and in seven times seven moons all our sayings will have been learned, then happiness will come. Then the seven maidens bowed seven bows to the Father and departed. All the people were well pleased with the sayings of the young maidens and immediately they began to look upon the Father for advice upon all matters, and in seven moons, the seven first born men had been consulted and the council meeting of the Red man began. the first Father : the husband of Corn Mother “Na-mi-ter-qui”—Father : literally “my father” (since na indicates possessive my)



C h a p te r T h r e e

141

After these regulations had been established, seven young men were sent to carry the news to Klose-kur-beh, and on the morrow at the rising of the sun, the young men did start to carry the news as directed. The young men returned saying Klose-kur-beh could not be found. His home was standing on the same ground, but no person in it, and no one answered their call. The house was not empty, it is filled with the implements of stone, the number being so great that they will last our people many times seventy years. At this saying the younger class of men showed more signs of disappointment than the older ones. They said Klose-kur-beh had acted strangely to leave the land without giving the power which he had to shave out the ­implements of stone. At this the Father spoke to the young men saying that Klose-kur-beh had not made a positive promise. He remembered hearing him say “that the power would be given unto them bye and bye,” therefore it will be good for us to hold our peace, and bye and bye the power will be given unto us. At this the young people held their peace, and the Father and the seven men gave directions what to be done with the implements. They made them last a long time, or until the power to make more was given to the people. Before many seven moons had passed the younger people began to be very much discontented because there was none among them who had the power not only to shave out stone with wood, but likewise there was no one that was able to talk with the animals, trees, birds and fishes like Klose-kur-beh, and they began to appeal to the Father and the seven men to bring a change so that they might have some kind of power, and they pressed their appeal so forcibly that the old men were very much perplexed.

Chapter IV. The winter and the seven years famine.—The discovery of the first white man’s track.

Just at this period, a boy came one morning when the sun was rising and entered the house of a man and wife who had only one child, a son. The boy who came was a strange one, none could tell to what family he belonged. Upon entering the house of sticks and leaves he selected a place for himself beside the boy of the house, who was about the same age and size as himself. Upon being questioned whence he came and whose son he was; and how long since he was born? [he] answered and said, he was the frost, the son of the air, and that he was many times seven years old. At this saying, the man of the house said: “Boy I do not understand your saying. I do not know the frost, neither do I know the time seven years; yet I know there is a Spirit in the air.” The boy answered and said, “If you know that there is a Spirit in the air, very well, but the frost you shall know after the harvest has passed, after that the time shall be divided into twelve moons, and as has been established with you, and you are many—your moons shall be seven, and because I am one my moons shall be five. In a little while I shall leave you and shall talk with you no more.—Yet you shall see me every year after your seven moons shall have passed.” And the man of the house saw that the boy was not only a stranger, but that he had a strange mind—a mind not the same as the children of the people— and without further saying he let the boy remain with the boy of the house and share his home; he took care of him in the same manner as he did his own son, but he saw that the strange boy did not grow in size like his own son. He began to bring his mind to the saying of the the frost you shall know . . . the time shall be divided into twelve moons : announcement of a dramatic shift in climate, with the seasons becoming more pronounced and the winters more severe. Twelve moons divide the year into twelve months.



C h a p t e r Fo u r

143

boy. And the change he noticed was that,—there could be seen, birds in large numbers all going toward the noon when the seven moons had passed—After five moons the birds would return. Few birds remained all the time and these were birds that could fly but a short distance. He also found at this time that some of the fresh water animals built houses beside the rivers and that they would stay in the five moons. The larger animals sought caves wherein they could stay during the passing of the five moons. No other change could he see did these events bring about. But when the seven years had passed, there was a great commotion among the people, more so among the mothers’ of little children, because a child had been found dead in its bed, and none knew the cause of it; no mark of violence could be found upon the body, that could have caused death, only that its mouth was filled with blood. This visitation caused great excitement because it was the first death that have come among them. No death ever occured only when some one was killed and devoured by the animals. People came from afar off to see the dead child. The old men were called together to give their opinion, but none were able to solve the mystery. The first Father and the seven men were called upon to direct how to dispose of the dead body. The men gave directions that the body be buried deep in the ground saying, if it be laid away for keeping, animals would come and devour it, and if it put into the water the fishes would do the same. This saying brought peace in all minds and the dead body was buried deep. The man that had charge of the strange boy, noticed that the child acted very strangely, during the day, he showed signs of being sleepy and fell asleep during the day, a thing he never did before. This caused the man to have a suspicion of the boy as being the one which caused the death of the child. So when night came, the man lay awake watching the movements of the boy, and during his watching he did not see the boy go out, but when the night had been half gone the boy came in from out side and immediately began to spread the coals of the fire which had not gone out, and after spreading the coals with the fire-stick, took out some substance from his bosom and carefully laid it on the coals; and after it had been cooked took it off and began to eat. At this mo birds in large numbers all going toward the noon. . . . –After five moons the birds would return : seasonal migrations of flocks of birds precipitated by the cooling climate

144

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

ment the man arose and asked the boy what he was doing? and the boy answered and said he was eating, and the man asked him what he was eating, to which the boy answered, “I am only eating this small tongue of a child” at the same time offering the man a piece to eat, which the man refused to touch, and after eating, the boy went to bed and was soon in a deep sleep. And when the morrow came, when the sun was rising, another excitement came and it was greater than the first, because another child had died the same way as the first, and in a very short time the gathering of the people was great, because those who had come from afar to see the first child were yet in the place. When the man of the house saw how large the gathering was, and while the strange boy was yet asleep, he went forth and told the people that it was the work of the strange boy. After the man had told what he had seen the boy do, he told the people to go and examine the dead child’s mouth, and if they found his tongue gone, surely it was the boy’s work whom he had seen cooked and eaten it. Upon examining the dead body it was found that its tongue was gone, nothing in the mouth but blood. It was evident who committed the awful deed, and immediately “not only the seven” but all of the old men were called together to consult as to what should be done. While yet it was early in the day a decision had been reached and rendered to the effect, that the boy be immediately slain by the father of the one whose death the strange boy had caused first—and the second bereaved father shall help the first in binding the body of the slain with cords of strong bark, and fasten rocks to the body so it will sink, and put it into deep water where no eye can reach it that it be devoured by the fish. The two bereaved fathers after slaying the boy did cast its body into the deep water. And when night came, before the first half had passed, while yet the fire in the house [was] burning brightly, the same boy came in trembling, and seeing the man yet awake said, “I am cold” and he began to warm himself. After warming himself awhile, he took the fire stick and began to spread the coals, and he took from his bosom two tongues which he cooked as before, and after eating them went to sleep as usual. Early on the following morning the loud voices of men were heard, and immediately two men rushed into the house where the boy lay asleep, and the two men aroused him from his slumber,



C h a p t e r Fo u r

145

and charged the boy with the death of their two children. Seeing this the man of the house told the men to hold their peace until the old men had met whose directions the people must follow. Hearing this, the two men departed in great anger, leaving the boy to sleep again. Early in the day the old men met, and directed the second bereaved father to slay the boy in the presence of all the people, and the last bereaved fathers to burn the body to ashes, after which the four bereaved mothers shall cast the ashes to the four winds. The first to cast the ashes to the rising of the sun, the second bereaved to the setting of the sun, the third to the noon, and the fourth towards the north land. While yet the boy was in his sleep the four men went forth and took the boy from his bed and carried him to a high land where the people had already gathered, and the men slew the boy, and the other two fathers burnt up the body to ashes, and the four mothers cast the ashes to the four winds. When the night came, and before the man of the house had retired to rest, and while yet the woman was up, the slain boy came in, his face flushed with anger, and immediately he began to cook three tongues in the fire, which he devoured ravenously, after which he threw his body violently on the bed and immediately went to sleep, while the woman wrung her hands wailing with a loud moan. Just after the first half of the night had passed, it was discovered that three children had died in the same way as the other four, and immediately there arose loud screeches of the mothers whose children laid dead in their homes, and also the tramping of many feet following the mothers who were running aimlessly about as if crazed, and the husbands of the mothers rushed to the house where the boy was sleeping to take him by force, but the man of the house advised them to leave the matter with the old men, but the fathers would not be quieted until the woman of the house spoke unto them saying, “Hold your peace men, until after the coming of the light of day, when all the mothers shall have been awakened. As I am a mother of a child, I know the value and the amount of love a mother holds for her child; therefore let the mothers have a voice in the matter that this cruelty may be stopped, after which we may live in peace and bring peace to our little ones.” Hearing this the angry fathers departed in silence while yet a great uproar being heard in every direction, which was

146

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

kept up until the coming of the day. And when the sun arose the great noise went down and quietness reigned until the sun began to throw its shadows toward the setting sun and the seven first-born men got together. They sent for all the men women and children to assemble and find a way for the safety of the children. In this assemblage it was thought best to pursue peaceful measures; and a large collection of valuables were got and put into the hands of the seven bereaved mothers, to be presented to the strange boy, with an earnest appeal to him to cease causing the death of children. The seven mothers went and laid valuables consisting of some fine clothing of fur, the best of the stone implements, hooks and lines, a nice bow and arrow, also a nice canoe before the boy, begging him to desist from further destruction of the children. When the boy saw what was being done by the mothers he was very much moved, and said he was sorry for what he had done. Yet it was done for the people’s good; upon speaking further he said, I have come among you when I was many times seven years old, and I have been among you seven years, and in all these years no notice has been taken of me, and to call your minds to me I have been obliged to awaken you by striking a blow where it will be most felt. Knowing that the mother’s heart is all to her babe, and toward that babe all tenderness must be shown, so by striking down the babe, the mother’s spirit is quickly awakened, and soon she wished to know the way to save her other children. I did not come for your valuable goods, take them back to your homes and divide them among yourselves, because I will hearken unto your prayers without them, and I shall grant all your requests. But you must also tell your people that I have requests which I ask them to grant. First, they must forget my works or what I have done in the past, because what I did was necessary for me to do. I did this to show you how cruel I will be, if you do not prepare yourselves to meet me when I come in my true state and nature. You have been born and lived. No death has come since the world began, only when a beast slays you. But after my coming in my true state and nature, death by sickness will come upon you, because when I come you shall call me “Pa-poon,” winter. If you are not prepared to keep your body warm with clothing, you shall be found dead with cold; but if you are not dead, you shall be taken sick and die, I shall have pity upon no one, as there is no pity in me, I have shown it to you in taking the lives of



C h a p t e r Fo u r

147

your seven little ones. So prepare yourselves in everything for the five moons which I claim. As sickness must come, I have brought medicine for all kinds of sickness, which I shall leave with you. Now I want you to grant this request. Before giving you the medicine for sickness, I want to have a rest, I want seven young maidens to attend me during my rest, each maiden shall attend me one year, or what you call twelve “moons” and at the end of seven years, all the seven maidens will come together and turn my body so I may lay on the other side of my body for another seven years. In turning my body in the first seven years, you shall find where my body laid, seven sprouts of plants starting from the ground; let them grow seven moons, when the young maidens shall name what disease each plant shall cure; then they shall gather the seed from them and shall scatter it to the four winds, as you did my ashes, and the seed shall grow all over the land, and it will be the medicine for the sick. After this is done the young maidens shall have finished their part. Then the duty of the young men shall begin. While I was with my father, the air, I heard the wailing of your young men because no power have been given them to shave out implements from the stone; I have come to give that as well as medicine for sickness. But first, when the young maidens have finished their work, a seven times seven young men who having no wives, shall attend me, seven shall attend me one year, then another seven for another year, and such change shall take place among them every year until the seven years have ended; There must be one awake from among them all the time; if at any time all go asleep and none to watch me I shall arise and leave them, and all that I am to give shall be lost. But if they heed my saying and watch faithfully, when the end of the seven years have come, all of the seven times seven shall assemble in my presence and shall stay with me the last seven times seven nights and days, who shall go fasting and shall eat once in every seven days and nights. But none shall go asleep during the passing of the seven times seven nights and days. There shall be no power given to those that are found asleep at the end of that time. the five moons which I claim : the five months of frost and wintry weather in the northeast : November, December, January, February, and March let them grow seven moons : the seven-month growing season in the northeast, April through October

148

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

As I have come to do good I shall ask nothing only what the young men can do, therefore I say that when the time comes for the seven young men’s turn to watch, all may go asleep but one, whose eyes shall be on me one day and one night, when another takes his place for the next night and day. Once in seven days and nights the young man shall take his turn in watching over me. As I have come to bring medicine to you which you shall give to those who shall become sick, I also bring death, and those that are too much exposed to my nature shall die. After the young maidens have finished their work and the young men have commenced on their part, the spirit in me shall become changed, because I am to give the spiritual power, therefore none shall touch my body; and [any]one [who] heeds not my warning and touches me shall drop and die. And as I have been destructive to your children, and that same destructive power still remain in me, you must be very careful in keeping the little ones away from the range of my eyes, because when a little one comes within seven times seven paces and my eyes fall fully on them they shall fall and die. And for your safety and your childrens safety I shall now take out all the bones of my body leaving only enough in me so that when the two seven years have ended I can take them back into my body, also there may be something come that will require the use of what have been left in me. But be very careful in putting away beyond my reach those bones I have been taking out, because if you leave them near me I will reach forth and put back all you have put away and shall be able to depart without you knowing and not receive the good I am to give. In taking the bones out of my body, will show you two things; First, that when there are no bones in the body it will not be able to move. The second thing shown, will be the greatness of the power in the air. It is the air that have sent me, because I am the son of the air, and before I leave you, you shall have been given the greatest power the man will ever have, and on the last day I will give the young men all the instruction how to use and how to retain it.” Having ended his saying, the boy reached forth his right hand and began to take the bones out of his right foot and leg, then out of the left foot and leg, hand and arm, also the ribs on both sides of the body leaving only the back-bone and the bones of the head, also the right hand and arm. And the seven maidens who had already been selected, did put away



C h a p t e r Fo u r

149

the bones out of his reach, and then laid the body on its left side where it is to lay, and did lay, to the end of the seven years. After the boy’s body had been laid in its proper place he said, “After this you shall call me “No-chi-gar-neh”—bone handler.” And the faithful maidens did their duty to the satisfaction of the boy and to the joy of the old people. Having performed all the duties required of them, the young maidens went through the task of turning the body of No-chi-gar-neh, and in doing so did see the seven plants coming through the ground in the place where the boy’s body had been laying which they left to grow. And when the seven moons have passed and after gathering the seed and having named each plant and what disease they will cure, did cast the seed in the four winds, which ended the works of the seven maidens. And after the maidens had departed the seven times seven young men took their turn in the watching. They asked the old men to divide them into sevens, and to select the first seven who are to do the caring and watching the first year, and also those who shall do that duty the next year. And the old men did divide them into sevens and assigned each their year of duty. When the first seven began on their task they found No-chi-gar-neh restless and breathing heavy, but dare not touch his body because they had been forbidden to do so. But when the first seven days have passed, he became more quiet so that he closed his eyes and begun to gaze steadily out in the open space in front of the house. And it happened at that moment a child crossed the space in the range of his gaze immediately fell dead. And the old man went to him and told him what had happened, the news of which moved him very much, and he said to them, “I have warned you of this, but children will be children, therefore something must be done and for the sake of the little ones, before the sun goes down I shall close my eyes, but first all the seven times seven young men shall get together so they be present and see it done.” And after the young men had assembled No-chi-gar-neh lifted up his right hand to his eyelids and drew them one by one down to the lower part of his face where they remained in the position as they had been drawn. After this had been done he said, “There will be no more trouble with “No-chi-gar-neh”—bone handler : also translates as “one who regularly hunts (or gathers) bones”1

150

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

the little ones,” bade the young men to depart in peace, which the young men obeyed leaving only those who were on duty to remain. No more trouble took place so that a good care could be given to No-chigar-neh. When the allotted time had arrived all the young men assembled to watch and to fast in the seven times seven days and nights. This proved an arduous duty to perform; so much so that when the end of time had come only seven were found awake, the rest having gone to sleep. And when No-chi-gar-neh was told that only seven of the young men were awake and the rest were in sleep, he said, “Seven is a true number, I am glad in my heart that the nature has made a good selection, therefore let all the seven times seven young men have seven days’ and seven nights’ rest, and on the seventh day send back to me the seven young men that are now awake. Let no others come, and when all the young men have gone home to rest, let the seven old men come before me because I have much to say concerning the people. Let the seven young men who are not in sleep wake those that are in sleep so that they may all go their way, for I have nothing to say to the ones that are in sleep.” And as soon as No-chi-gar-neh finished his talk the seven young men did wake all those that were in sleep and all went their way, each one to his home. And when the sun was in the noon the old men entered the house where No-chi-gar-neh was laying, and after he was told that the old men had come he said to them, “Only seven days and seven nights longer I am to be with you in the same flesh as your flesh, as after that time has passed I will come in a different substance once in every seven moons and you will not see me as you do now, you shall only feel the presence of my spirit, a spirit which will not give comfort to you nor to your children, and this shall be so while the world stands. Because in happiness you came into the world, but in sorrow you shall live in it, for I shall bring sorrow unto those that are not prepared for my coming because when I begin to come you shall reckon your time by years as there shall be winters and summers.” Here No-chi-gar-neh commanded the oldest man to tell him when his right hand was toward the noon sun, as he could not see because his eyelids were drawn down. He lifted up his right hand in a circular manner, and when it was toward the sun, the old man told him it was toward the sun.



C h a p t e r Fo u r

151

There, he said: My hand now points to the sun; The sun is the summer. When he comes near I will go away, for he will have no pity for me, he will melt my white robe in which I come and I shall go away without it, but I shall return with another the next year. When the seven days rest had ended and the seven young men having returned to him, he said to them, let no man be near me and you when the sun is down, because when night has come you will know no one, you will be restless, yet you will not know it because you will be in a trance ready to receive the spiritual power I am going to bring upon you; be not afraid nothing will befall you while in that state. By the order of nature I was in the trance while the first seven days and nights was passing, yet I am here ready to set back my bones, and after that and while you will be in the trance, I will draw back my eyelids to where they belong, and I will then be ready to do my work. In bringing the spiritual power upon you, ask no question for I will answer none. My work to me is plain. But although you will have the power that others do not possess, yet it will be always a mystery to you how it comes to those that possess it, because none is awake when the Spirit enters, it enters while the person sleeps; therefore the spirit of sleep will tell you what to do. There will be many who are filled with the false spirit, but the spirit that is coming to you will be the true one, and it will only go from you to your children, none others will be able to get it because none were awake when the time came to receive it. I will take you up far above the ground where the current of the air is pure, and in the midst of the spiritual body of the air, and where the current conveys the spirit of the air from all quarters of the land, there you shall be filled with the spirit. And after being filled you shall have the power so you shall be able to shave out stone to any shape and form you want with the fragments of the wood from the tree that has been shattered by the ball of fire that shot from the clouds. You shall also have the power so you can turn yourselves into anything you wish that has the spirit in it; you will be able to travel in the air, in the water and under the water; you shall be able to talk with not only the spirit of the animals, but with the animals themselves. Birds

the ball of fire that shot from the clouds : a large thunderbolt

152

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

and fishes you shall talk with. Your power shall be according to the amount of your faith; he that believes in the spirit shall be filled with the spirit, and his power shall be great; and he that believes not in the spirit shall have power only according to the strength of his body. All of you shall be filled with the spirit before the sun rises again; and being filled, your power shall be great, yet you shall not have the power to give it to another because such power shall come to those only who are chosen by the spirit of the air. Having been chosen by your fathers to be among the seven times seven, and moreover, having been selected by the spirit of the air to be the seven who shall receive this great power, it is proper for me to say that when the next sun shines on your faces you shall be great men among your people, because your works shall bring great comfort to yourselves also to all your people, for you shall be useful to them. Having no power to give to others the same as you possess, yet you shall be able to take the strength away from your brother who shall remain weak for a while. This power shall come to you to show how much the spirit of the air is able to do for a man, so that all may believe in the spirit and in you. Being great, great must be your care in keeping yourselves in this greatness. You must never allow yourselves to become so small as to use your power upon or against your brother on any contention. Do not abuse one another with this power. “When you have so far forgotten my saying and begin to use this power against your brother, then the time is near when it shall depart from you, because whoever abuses this power shall lose it. Oh, would that your minds be equal to the great lesson which this mysterious power and privilege will enforce upon them you would become a great people, because all the arts man must have are embodied in these many mysterious powers which are good food for study; therefore should you let them pass by unobserved, then misfortune will follow, because you will have lost all the power and arts it would have produced and it shall never return, because all shall return to the spirit of the air. Above all things, you seven that the power be given must never abuse one another with it, and you must teach those who will be fortunate enough to get the same power never to abuse it. Teach them also never to abuse the spirit of the animals. You may kill the animal and eat his flesh but never abuse the spirit of it, because if you do abuse the spirit of the animal he will never come to your



C h a p t e r Fo u r

153

calling. In calling to you the spirit of any thing, you shall not call it into your house with your family, but you shall build one [i.e., another house] for the purpose which must be made strong because many [spirit beings] will come in a rough manner and shake the house for each shall want to show man the power the spirit has. Now that the time has come and the people are in their sleep, I will call forth the oldest of your seven to come to me now. And when the young man obeyed and had advanced to the side of the boy; the boy said, now all may arise and listen to my words; to which all the young men obeyed and when standing by his side, he said to them, my bones are with us but are laying beyond my reach, twice seven years have they been laying where your people have placed them, and as I have no more work to do for you as the spirit of the air will this night do its own work. As I am the son of that spirit, when you bring my bones the touch of them will have much effect upon you, it will so effect [i.e., affect] you, you will know no one and you will not know one another, you will have no thought nor feeling, yet you will all realize what is passing around you during the coming of the spirit. Up high in the air you shall receive it. And after the spirit have come in you, you shall see many things which others who are without this spirit do not see. The things you will see you will never forget. The time surely has now come, and only a few more words then all shall be done. For fear the people may doubt my works, it will be necessary for you to show them the power you get this night, so when you have come down from the air each one of you shall go to your home, and on the morrow when the sun is highest you shall all meet on a high ground and there build a house the entrance of which shall be low, so that you creep like the babe in entering it; but the top shall be made open. The house shall be low but very strong. Seven days you shall be in building it, and on the seventh day at noon all of you shall enter and close the door so that no other shall enter with you. After this is done, one of you, he that entered first shall sing, and in his singing shall call the spirit of every living thing, and the different spirits will come to the call. And after you have talked with them they shall all depart, and In calling to you the spirit of any thing : A Penobscot meteoulin (or “spiritual man”) was believed to have personal, or familiar, spirits and to possess the capacity to communicate with the spirits of animals and plants as well as with a variety of powerful Spirit Beings.2

154

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

you shall then come out of the house and take it all apart so it shall not stand there to be put to other use. After you have gone through all this, you shall then have done your part and shall go home to stay. You the eldest of the seven, go forth and bring to me the bones of my left arm, and the others bring the other bones. And the eldest obeyed and brought forth the bones No-chi-gar-neh called for. Upon laying his hand on the bones, the young man began to tremble and shook violently so that he went into a trance, and when the others laid their hands on the bones to bring to the boy it effected [i.e., affected] them the same way. Thus the seven were in a trance and did not realize the presence of each other. Yet each one had a vision; the memory of which lasted during all their lives. All did realize that they were high up in the air so that they could see the whole world and the face of it, could see all that was moving and could hear all the sounds of the world as the face of the earth was like the smooth ice so that nothing was hid from their eyes. But upon looking in the direction where the sun rises there was a thick vapor standing in the middle of the ocean beyond which they could see nothing, yet they could hear sounds like those made by man. And upon looking around they saw that No-chi-gar-neh was not with them, he had departed to come no more. And they began to come down,—and soon were all on the earth, and when the sun arose all went their way each one to his home. And when the noon came, the seven did meet on a high ground as commanded by No-chi-gar-neh, and did build the house as they had been directed; and when it was built and ready to be entered, all the people came to witness the calling of the spirits; many came from afar off, so that a very large crowd of people surrounded the house, but none were allowed to enter with the spiritual men. And after closing the door, and when the singing begun, the house shook, and when a spirit arrived the whole people could hear its arrival because it shook the house violently, and the people did hear all what the spirits said to the men in the house, but could see nothing come nor anything depart. After the spiritual conferences had ended, and the spiritual men got out, they did take the house all down and apart, and each one was allowed to rest from all social intercourse for seven days, and after the seven days had passed the old men began to visit them separately to learn from them all they saw while being filled with the spirit. This the young men found to require a long time to ac-



C h a p t e r Fo u r

155

complish as the old men were obliged to go through the examination by making inquiries of them separately and then compare the reports from them so that all things be learned as in one mind. After this was done, then the old men began to teach all the people what had been done and what the people ought to do. The first change that could be seen to take place after the people had witnessed what had been transpiring, was that many of them were taken [with] the idea of singing. First, after the manner as in calling the spirit, but after a long while they sung all kind of ways, each singer composed its own music, but when one composed music that suited the people it would be learned and sung by many other singers. No written music was ever gotten up, neither were the words ever composed for any music, therefore there were no songs with words which the people could learn and sing. True, there were in some instances words repeated in the singing, but never more than four or five words, only enough to indicate what prompted the singer to sing. The next change and the most remarkable one that followed, was the idea of reckoning of time from the moons to years. This the people looked upon as most important because in seven years the winter was to come and it seemed that the people were almost at a loss, hardly a score of them could agree upon any given time. At all events, the seven years waiting was a long one, and many changes came before the winter made its appearance. When the old men began to teach the young, it was necessary for them to reckon the time in their teaching by the generations, because every old generation must teach the younger, of things that have passed. After getting ready for the winter many times, but it came not, the people were much puzzled, and in their perplexity their minds were very much diversified in the matter of reckoning. Some claimed that seventy times seven moons had passed, while others say seven hundred have gone by; some say only seven years, while the old teachers claimed that seven generations have come since No-chi-gar-neh left them. The reckoning of the teachers had more weight among the people than the others on account of the increased state of the population since No-chi-gar-neh went away. But the old teachers themselves were very much bewildered because the winter had not come; and having been so much said about it, the attention of the young people was called to it, and after the young people had much talk, reminded the old folks of their teaching. They said that they had been

156

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

taught that when winter was near all plants shall be changed from green colors to grey and the leaves fall off the trees. This reminder of the young folks opened the eyes of the old, so nothing more was said or done only to watch the appearance of the plants and leaves. In about seven moons the whole land began to change;—air cold, cold winds began to blow, and nights chilly, and finally frost and ice was found in places some mornings. Birds began to gather in flocks and flew away toward the noon. At last the snow began to fall which covered the whole land, and the old men called it “Pa-poon,” winter. There has been so much said about the coming of winter, and the people were so well prepared for it, none perished by the cold, but many made sick by undergoing the long exposure, but these were soon made comfortable by the mothers who took care [of ] the medicinal plants that had been gathered by the maidens previous to the changing of the color of the plants. The gathering of the medicinal plants and putting them in the care of the mothers made the people look upon them as the healers of the sick, who when called upon went to their work with willing hands, so that when the winter had rolled by only seven deaths were reported, while seven times that many had been relieved. Thus having conducted the medical department so faithfully and well, the duty of dealing out medicine fell to the women, therefore there was no man doctor among them. This arrangement continued until after the coming of the white man. To deal out medicine to the sick was looked upon as below the sphere of man; surgical profession was not known and the practice of surgery was not needed, because those who dealt out medicine were able to heal all kinds of diseases, bones and flesh were healed alike. Men’s minds were entirely absorbed in the art of spiritual works. A good hunter was also considered useful, more so when the country became more thickly populated. But the spiritual men were considered indispensible beings. No matter how great a hunter a man may be, he is bound to consult these men upon all occassions, therefore the services of them were constantly sought after and were always busy. The people having multiplied to such an extent that about all of the stone implements made by Klose-kur-beh had been divided up among them, and when more were needed the spiritual men were called upon to make them.



C h a p t e r Fo u r

157

When winter came and the snow got deep, the hunters were sore with trouble not knowing how to get around to their hunting in such a deep snow. One day some boys came out to play in the snow and in their sports made themselves some foot wear out of some bended branches of trees which they filled the middle part with the strips of bark of the “Wicki-bi-mi-si,” Bass wood, having filled the middle part and had fastened the shoes to their feet was able to travel about on top of the snow. The old men seeing this done, the idea of making snow shoes soon prevailed all over the country, and as the use of them gave so much satisfaction that the filling of them was considered too weak, and a more substantial substance was sought, and strips of green hide was applied to satisfaction, and this substitute in place of Wicki-bimi-si, having been put into them, the old men called them “Unkmock,”—snow shoes. Having invented the snow shoes, the hunters were able to travel the country at will, seeking game. The game was so plentiful the people did not suffer much in want of it. There was such a supply of game meat with the corn that was saved in the harvest, made the people happy during the winter. These winters came regularly just as No-chi-gar-neh had told them, so preparations were always made to meet them. As the winters came one after another, the people got more used to them and the death roll became less, that is according to the population. Therefore the people increased in numbers very much. The people were contented and lived like so many brothers, everything seemed to be within their reach, a want was not known among them until after many times seventy generations had come, when a spirit of May-May came to a noted spiritual man. The May-May came to tell the man of the seven years of plenty to be followed by a seven years of famine, which will bring much suffering, because there shall come snow and hail which will cover all the land in great depths, and the May-May warn them to prepare for the coming event. Knowing that the May-May had proved himself to be a true friend to man in the beginning of the world, the people were ready to heed his warning. Corn was planted, harvested and stored in the log cribs, brothers : As used here, the word denotes both symbolic kinship and also equal status.

158

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

more than ever before and guarded against waste, until the seven years of plenty had passed when the seven years of famine was expected to begin. None knew how it was to come, but when the summer had passed and winter came, it came in a fury, the snow fell in great depths which continued for seven days when a heavy hail storm followed for the same length of time, and then on the top of these came a cold rain which lasted seven more days, then came the severe cold seven moons which froze the wet snow and hail solid like the rock, the old men called it “Po-quar-mi,”—ice. The description of the condition of the people during the coming of the ice on the earth never has been told to the traditional story tellers, therefore this part will have to be omitted. This much however was gathered; that after the big storm and when the severe and intense cold had lasted seven moons with no signs of melting, all hopes of seeing the summer to return was abandoned, and the planting of corn likely to be dispensed with for the next seven years, also the outlook for the yearly harvest of “Pun-nuk,”—ground nuts, or the wild potatoes, so disappointing that the people began to look forward to find some substitute to take place of the food that had been kept back by the long snow and ice weather. At last the people were obliged to send out men of good judgment to seek game for the whole people, a game that can be easily obtained whether it be big or small; anything that will do for food. These men soon returned who reported that enough game had been found to supply all the people and had brought some home with them, consisting of small animals and birds, which the old men called “Mar-ta-qua-so,”—Rabbit, and “Pus-keh-gur-targi-leh,”—Spruce Partridge. The men found the country full of such food game. Their report upon the discovery of the larger game yet existing wiped away the fear into which the people had been thrown, who feared that the deep snow and ice had lain so long on the earth had destroyed many living things, therefore these happy tidings filled the the coming of the ice on the earth : possible reference to what is known as the Little Ice Age, a period of increasingly cooling climate that began about AD 1250–1300.3 “Pus-keh-gur-targi-leh,”—Spruce Partridge : also known as the Canada grouse



C h a p t e r Fo u r

159

people with much joy, although the men say that the large game could not be got, as the smoothness of the country with the hard ice enables them to get easily out of man’s reach. But the mere knowledge of the animals surviving the destructive period then passing, was enough to create a general rejoicing. When the people went after the food game which had been discovered, they found the birds in the bog lands feeding on the boughs of the short and scrubby bog spruces, and found the bogs filled with them, and were so tame that the person wishing to gather a supply, could, without difficulty, knock them off and down from the trees. But after a while they found that this process soon disturbed the tameness of the birds and a commotion showed itself among them at the coming of the man. And when the people discovered this, a method of snaring them was adopted which proved to be the thing desired. The method of ­securing the right kind of material to make the snares was soon found by pounding out the grains of the “Arlik-ba-ter-her,”—brown ash, and splitting it into strings was just the thing wanted. And out of these ash strips made the snares which they fastened to the end of a long pole with which they could easily snare the birds by passing the loop over their heads and could draw them down without disturbing the rest of the birds. These birds were always found in a flock so large that the people moved their families to them from which they could secure food for their families for many moons. The rabbits were also found in large numbers who haunted the land between the bogs and the hard and higher lands. These were also caught with the snares made from the strips of the bark of “Wik-ki-bi-mi-si,” bass wood. The snares were placed in such a manner in the rabbits path that the little animal put its head into it while passing along, but the size of the open space left in the snare would not admit the body, therefore the noose tightens around its neck and the animal gets strangled. After the snow and ice period had passed, the spruce partridge and the rabbit were the principal winter food for those less able to go on long journeys for larger game, therefore this kind of game was they could easily snare the birds . . . the loop over their heads : This loop-ona-stick device for snaring small birds was used by the Penobscots until well into the twentieth century and is sometimes used even today.

160

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

afterwards reserved for the old and infirm. No able bodied man was allowed to take much of it, none seemed to care to interfere with it because everybody had been instructed from childhood to help and provide for the old and infirm, consequently this protective practice was kept up until the white man came.

Chapter V. The fish famine—The capture of the white swan and the white spiritual men driven away.

The people in those days were so interested in these poor and unfortunate ones, that men would go and build winter wigwams and move them near those bogs from which they could secure their daily food. After the food game had been found the people became more contented, and with a composure waited for the summer to come. During the snow and ice period no sickness or death was reported and the good health seemed to prevail among all, until the hot weather came, when some were taken with the bad cough, in some cases death was the result, because the medicine could not be properly administered to all. Before the winter came to a close, some of the people who were less favored with the natural patience got very much discontented notwithstanding the new discovery made, but had gone around to agitate a spirit among the people for a southern exodus. And by going around among the several tribes or bands got quite a following, and many families did start to seek summer in the south, and although the summer did return in due season, but did not bring back the families that went out to seek it, nor have they returned to this day. Their departure somewhat cast a gloom over the land. None of the old men would go, they warned those that were so ready to go of the danger of their light and inconsiderate disposition and habits, telling them that a time is coming when a man [shall] be reckoned [i.e., judged] according to his mind and habits, and if he be so that he is not contented and will not stay where the Great Spirit has placed him, but sets himself adrift, knowing not where he shall land, shall some day wish to stay to a place where he cannot, because having started himself on a drift, these poor and unfortunate ones : i.e., “the old and infirm” mentioned at the end of the preceding chapter

162

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

drifting about he must become and continue in it. But no argument could change their minds and they started for the south. Nothing more can be said than that the people were now anxiously waiting for the coming of summer. Just about this time the May-May appeared again; this time he came in a very happy manner, his coming was known by his happy singing while yet he was a long way off. And when near enough, and had alighted said, “not in the spirit, but in the flesh,” and with gladness I have come, and I sing with joy, not because this being my last visit to you, no; I sing because the summer is coming. In seven moons with the help of the warm wind from the noon, the sun will melt the ice away. In seven suns hence, a natural snow will fall and it shall be seven hands deep, but the sun will melt it all away in seven days, and in melting it, will effect [i.e., affect] the ice which now covers the land, so that in seven moons all will be gone. I sing because nothing like this will befall you again while the world stands. After delivering his message May-May departed to come no more. And when the seven suns had passed, a snow fell which covered the ground seven days, and during these seven days some young men were out on a hunt, and according to custom had taken one old man with them, and on coming out to the seashore in a little cove where a small brook came out to the sea, the young men discovered a man’s track upon the high land, the track begun from the shore and back to it, and around the brook of the fresh water, which appeared to them that some one had been carrying water from the brook to the salt water shore, but no canoe of any kind could be seen moving as far as they could see. When this news was brought to the old man he at once proposed to investigate the matter, so all hands went down, and they started for the south : This entire paragraph offers a critical view of the splitting-off and migration of bands and families to become independent tribal units, even if motivated by the desire to seek a milder climate; it may be an oblique comment on out-migration among the Penobscot during Nicolar’s lifetime, although the motives then were generally economic. “not in the spirit, but in the flesh” : possibly a paraphrase of “But I . . . could not address you as spiritual men, but as men of the flesh” from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians (I Cor. 3:01) nothing like this will befall you again : a prediction of moderating climate and a possible reference to the end of the Little Ice Age, ca. 17001 according to custom had taken one old man with them : possibly a “dream diviner” (a kind of shaman) capable of dreaming where game was to be found, or possibly an elder with a great deal of experience in locating game



C h a p te r F iv e

163

upon comparing the strange tracks to those they made, there was a vast difference in three ways, first, the person that made the strange tracks must have had on moccasins made of hard substance; second, the tracks were larger than theirs; third, and the most strange part of all, the toes pointed outward instead of inward like those they made themselves. Upon arriving at a conclusion, that the tracks were made by a strange person, it so affected the old man that he shed tears, saying, that whoever made the tracks must have been very lonely, and said further, that as his strength was reduced to weakness by old age he could not overcome the emotion that came upon him. Although the reason the old man gave to the young men was a good one, yet they said among themselves that something more must be the cause of the old man’s weeping, and they immediately started homeward; and at their arrival among their people, and reporting their discovery and the weeping of the old man, the other old men got together to discuss the matter and the old man who had been overcome with grief was called in to explain his action while with the young men. And to the old men he said, “Upon seeing the strange tracks, all the warnings which have been given us, how that a time is coming when we must look for the coming of the white man from the direction of the rising sun, and the tracks were so very strange, not like our people’s track, came upon me so fresh I could not withhold the tears that rushed upon my brow. Knowing that a great change must follow his coming it made me weak and the weakness overcame me, because his coming will put a bar to our happiness, and our destiny will be at the mercy of the events. Being satisfied that me and the young men have seen the tracks of this strange man, it becomes as our gravest duty to prepare ourselves and people so to be ready to meet the changes which may follow.” When the other old men had learned of all that had been seen, it came heavier upon them, than did the departure of Klosekur-beh. This news was spread among all the people, even the little children were told what had been seen and what is coming to them. The commotion it created was so great that the people hardly realized that the natural snow so lately fallen was fast melting away and the ice had become like the honeycomb and must soon follow the snow. When the time came which had been set by May-May, the summer came, bringing with it the birds, leaves, plants and flowers. Corn was put into the ground which in due season came up out of the ground

164

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

with all the appearance of much promise, and with a good attention and care a good crop was gathered at the harvest, which brought back the old happiness which the people enjoyed for many times seventy summers and winters, and things continued in that way until the fish famine came which was brought about in this way. Long after the people had become great in numbers and the tribes or bands large, a very dense fog came over the whole country and remained seven moons, and during that time no fish could be found, all methods applied to get them failed, therefore the supply of food became scant because there was also considerable difficulty experienced in getting other game food owing to the density of the fog then hanging over the land. People began to be hungry, children crying for something to eat, mothers became disheartened, and the men worrying because they could not find game animals fast enough to supply their families; and finally the people got so desperate that they began to seek the aid of the spiritual men to find the cause of all this. To quiet people in their fear and excitement, the most noted spiritual men, those that are in the near vicinity called other spiritual men from all parts of the country, some came from the most remote part of the land, and after getting together and selecting seven good men from among them, those seven begun to labor in their spiritual way to search and find out the cause. In the daytime they examined the land and water, nights they arose in the air, and their seven days labor brought no fruit. But upon their rising in the air on the seventh night, heard voices of men on the sea in the direction where the sun rises. To this their attention was directed, but after exhausting all their power in their efforts to see the men whose voices they had heard failed and were obliged to come down, still deep in their ignorance of the cause. And after telling what they had done and the poor success they had met, the old men got together again and after much deliberation it was decided to send to north land for help. And immediately seven little girls were selected and brought together in front of the youngest ones wigwam where they repeated these words, “Oh, mother we are hungry, please bring us food.” Seven times did these children repeat a very dense fog : possibly volcanic ash 2 nights they arose in the air : In certain dream states, Penobscot shamans were said to be capable of out-of-body travel.



C h a p te r F iv e

165

this and at the end of the seventh calling, “Mata-we-leh,”—loon was heard coming through the air from the north land. And after making seven circles around where the children was standing, lowered and was soon standing among the little ones, and it was here seen that instead of being a loon it was an aged woman. No one knew who she was, neither did she make herself known to the people, but in silence stood there before them facing the north land, and while thus she stood, a gentle breeze of wind came from that direction. This was pleasing to the people because no wind had swept over the land for the last seven moons, which continued until all the fog had been blown away toward the noon, leaving the land and sea clear. And as soon as the land had been cleared the woman turned her face in the direction where the sun rises, and steadily gazed upon an object which was in the mid-ocean, and without turning her face from that direction raised her left hand as if calling some one from the north land. This she repeated seven times. After she had done this she turned to the crowd of people which was then great, and for the first time since her arrival spoke to them and said, “The cry of your little ones has been heard in the north land, and I have come to their calling, and soon their little hearts as well as all other hearts will be made glad, and when I leave you, you shall be happy until you have fallen into the ways of these people;” pointing her hand toward the mid-ocean, “who are floating there, and who have brought upon you this trouble and hunger, you cannot find the animals because the days have been so dark, you cannot find fish because there is a covering over all the fish which the power of these people have placed there, it is the spiritual power that is in them, and if the power that is in you has not the force to overcome it, woe unto you.” Then the woman turned to the spiritual men who were standing near and called forth the one nearest to her and said, “bring forth the stone,” pointing to a very large rock which was near them, but it was so large and heavy the man did not have the strength to carry it and returned without it; and the woman called the next spiritual man, who also failed to accomplish the feat. Upon this another man was called until the seven had been “Mata-we-leh,”—loon : Etymologically, this translates as “shaman-bird” or “magic bird.” a covering over all the fish : possible reference to a very old tribal memory of volcanic ash covering the waters

166

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

called and failed. Then the woman went forth and took up the stone which she carried to the edge of the sea and threw it out in the ocean which, instead of sinking rebounded and laid on the surface of the water. The woman then said, “There, how can fish be seen when there is such a covering over the water.” This covering has been placed there by the spiritual power of these men we see in the mid-ocean. And it is my duty now either to capture these persons or make them flee for their safety. If we succeed in capturing them, their mission in bringing misery and suffering among you will virtually be at an end. But if they succeed in making their escape, look for them again some day in the same direction. If I succeed in driving them away with the power given me from the north land, they will learn the power of it, and will never come again in the spiritual form, but shall depend upon the power they have gathered in their learning, and with such, he will next come, and when he comes watch him closely because by so doing you will learn the many forms of power that is in man. After the woman had finished saying these words, she turned to the spiritual men and said to them, “Men come forth and bring with you in your right hands, the fragments of wood the same that you use when you shave the stone into implements, and stand near the water;” and the spiritual men came forward and took a position each one as commanded. Then the woman said again, “Let the mothers of these seven little girls who sent up the cry to the north land for help, lead them to this spot that they may draw in the “K’chi-wump-toqueh”—white swan, after I make fast to it.” And the mothers of the seven little ones brought their children forth as commanded. Then the woman pulled out seven spears of long hair from her locks which was the color of the raven, and which she twisted into a small rope, which she placed in her left hand and then she put her right hand into her bosom and from under her garments pulled out a piece of bone which was shaped like the spear, and the color of which was red just like the blood. To this blood colored little spear the woman fastened the hair rope, and took the spear in her right hand, gave to the seven little girls the other end of the hair rope “K’chi-wump-toqueh”—white swan : As reported by early European explorers and colonists, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, this appears to have been a common Native locution for describing the multi-masted sailing vessels of the Europeans.3



C h a p te r F iv e

167

to hold in their hands, saying: “When you hear the swan cry in pain, draw in the rope until the bird be laying at the feet of the seven men, then your work will be done, and let your mothers take you away in peace.” And again the woman said to the spiritual men: “When the little girls have drawn the bird to them and still have life in him let the oldest of you cut off his head with the wood he holds in his hand. Then let the next oldest cut off the right wing, and the next man shall cut off the left wing, and the fourth man shall cut open the birds belly, while the last three men be standing ready to cut off the heads of the three persons who are inside of the bird, you shall know they are the right ones because they are white, the same color like the bird. After cutting off their heads let all the bodies lay near the water to be covered up by the shaking of the water and land. It may be so that I fail in capturing them and they escape, if so, the little girls will only draw in a dead swan, because the three spiritual men will have made a large hole in its back through which they have flown. And the swan you shall let lay to be covered up with the fragments of the earth, and the water will wash it away. Though these men may escape the shaking of the water and land, they may be far away when it comes, yet they shall feel the shake of it, and shall hear the sound, and a fear shall come upon them so they will never come to you again with the spiritual power because the shake of the water and the shake of the land they shall always fear. And it is well that there be some power reserved which shall be brought upon those who shall become so great in power that others will not be able to overcome, and it is well also that, will and might shall have a short life. The man of will and might shall enjoy his own way until all the land he occupies shakes until it shall open, wherein he shall fall, and shall not have the power to get out because in all his works he shall never be able to find the way to escape it.” After this saying, the woman raised up the little spear with her right hand and threw it at the swan which was laying in the midocean, and when it was going through the air the woman flew after it, she being in the form of the white loon, and the people saw the swan in its efforts to rise, but the little spear had done its work and the shaking of the water and land : possible reference to an earthquake or to a tsunami following extreme seismic activity

168

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

the bird’s cry with pain was plainly heard, and the little girls began to haul in on the rope until the game was drawn ashore which was found dead. Nothing could be seen on the bird excepting one large hole in its back. And upon looking into this hole only three vacant seats could be seen, and at this moment the white loon was coming toward the land, part of the time on the surface and another moment be under the water. When it came where the body of the swan lay, and upon getting out of the water and had transformed herself to a woman said: “Now I shall carry back this piece of bone to the north land and before the sun goes down I will return and shall then break up all the covering which have been hiding the fish; and when it breaks up, it shall fly in pieces to the shore into piles, and whatever fragment remains you shall keep and shall make into some useful implements, because it being the fragment of the first contention between you and the strange people. When the covering breaks there will be a great shock, therefore you must all go away from this spot, go far back on the high land, from where you can look down and see the work.” At this the woman pulled the spear out of the dead swan’s body, and the people began to go back on to the high lands. And after getting on to a safe place and upon looking down to the sea, [the people] beheld the same white loon coming from the north very swiftly, and when it reached the place opposite where the dead swan lay, it made its usual circles, there it stood very high and very still for a few moments, then it turned itself into a great ball of fire, and fell swiftly down to the water; and when it struck the water, the earth shook and the roar of it was great. So great was the roar, all the land shook and stood trembling for a long time, and the commotion of the water was also very great which brought the fishes to the surface and could plainly be seen jumping gleefully out of the troubled waters. This great shock also brought back the fog. The return of the fog, however, was but a short duration, it only remained seven days and when it cleared away and the sun shone there was much happiness, because the people were already catching as many fishes as was needed. In the midst of this happiness it was found that the woman had gone to the north land, had departed while the fog was prevailing,

a great ball of fire : possibly a meteorite?4



C h a p te r F iv e

169

and upon going down to the seashore, the people found fragments of stone in large heaps all along on the shores of the coast. Remembering what had been commanded them, they gathered the stone and made into small implements. They were not able to make the large tools out of it, because the spiritual men were not able to shave it with the wood. They could only shape it by hacking and chipping off the edges so to make small spears and arrow heads. Seeing this the old men called the stone “Keh-tungu-so-arpusque,” spirit stone. The heaps of these stones remained on the shores many times seventy summers and winters, and the time it remained in these heaps the spiritual men were able to gather and save a very large amount of it for future uses; so much of it was saved that it lasted until after the white man introduced among them tools made from different substances. In all these years while all these different events were taking place, the spiritual men were busy faithfully performing what was required of them. All were working for the good of the people, never showed among themselves any other kind of feeling only that was kind and brotherly, until after the white man was seen sailing in his strange craft along the coast. This long looked for event created such a stir that the noted men were called to discuss the matter and to see what must be done about it, and on their getting together it was decided that there shall be some good spiritual men selected and sent along the coast to watch the strange people’s movements. These people were considered very strange because they were not white as the snow, and not so white as the people expected them to be, but were brown and hairy people. Whether they were creatures with the speech or not, none knew because no one had heard them talk. However it was determined to have them watched and this watching to continue until his true description and habits had been learned. As has been said before that no trouble among the spiritual men had come, but as soon as the selection of the best and noted of them had been made and became “Keh-tungu-so-arpusque,” spirit stone : a term no longer used among the Penobscot which translates literally as “ghost-stone” or “spirit-stone” (or “spirit-rock”)5 brown and hairy people : a possible reference to late-fifteenth-century Basque or Breton fishermen?6

170

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

known, those that were considered less noted and had not received the appointment became jealous of their brother spiritual men who had been selected, and immediately began to show their feeling towards them, a feeling which showed hatred, and began to do their work in getting followers and gathering them into their folds. And as soon as they saw that the people were also divided in the approval of the selection, declared themselves as enemies of the selected ones. They declared that the people had trampled upon and had abused them,—the same kind of power existed in them as well as in those that had been preferred; and that the time had arrived they must show them how much power they possessed. And after declaring and had entered into this determination, the disappointed spiritual men began to agitate the minds of their friends to discord, each of them having a large influence among the people, the whole country was thrown into different bands. Seeing this, the disappointed soon made aggressive movements against the selected; although the old men advised peace and harmony, their advice was only met with scorn by the disappointed ones, saying, “That the people will never know the power that is in those that they discarded until it be shown them, and this they are bound to do.” Here the interview with them ended and the old men turned away from them with heavy hearts and great sorrow, because the happiness of the red man have now come to its end. With a depressing spirit, each old man went to his own lodge, only to point out with trembling hand to those that loves peace the destiny of the red man. When this became known the lodges of the old men were constantly thronged by the populace, not only to quiet them and reduce the sorrow they exhibited, or to alleviate the grief that was bowing down their already bent and feebled frames; but also to learn the true prophecy which was expected of them. When interviewed, they hid nothing, but were very frank in giving their views upon what might be expected and did not hesitate in recommending preparation to meet any emergency looking to hostility which might be brought about by this bad feeling. And it can plainly be seen that this late news spread a shadow of gloom over the whole region, and the happiness which was in the grasp of the people slipped out from their hands, and has never returned, even to this day. When the war begun, it was brought on by the disappointed class, and it was carried on in such a scale it was not so destructive as it was feared, for instead of uniting, the leaders of the disappointed



C h a p te r F iv e

171

preferred to achieve heroic honors without the aid of their fellow disappointed spiritual brethren. They would only select a few from their followers whom they led to battle. Every spiritual man who lead the men to battle are called, “Mur-oo-wet,”—The commander. The weapons used in the battle were the “Tur-bee” and “Par-queh,” bow and arrow. “Ed-dunk-he-gan,” stone sling and the “Ms-squarjees,” war club. And in time of war no mercy was shown to the defenseless, old people and women were despatched to eternity when found, even the little babes were slain, no prisoners of war taken, only such ones the enemy knows to be most beloved and esteemed, such persons are taken alive only to be cruely tortured; this is done to irritate the feelings of the prisoners friends. Burning at the stake was the principal measure meted out to the unfortunate captives. Exchange of prisoners was never entered into nor practiced. The only way to rescue a friend from the enemy is to keep on fighting and if successful in routing the enemy, and if in his flight had not time to stop and slay the prisoners, your friend be restored to you alive. The war was carried on mostly in the night time, the invading army watches closely and only when he finds the invaded to be in his sleep when the attacks are made. The selected portion of the spiritual men never made practice only [i.e., except] to be on the defense. All of the battles were created and brought on by the disappointed, and the attacks were made by them. Only twice did the selected spiritual men make an aggressive movement, which we will mention in another page. In all this war period the spiritual men resorted to all sorts of spiritual power they possessed during the raging of the battle. In some instances when closely cornered, [some spiritual men] would disappear on the spot, other times only some swift footed animal be seen leaving the battle ground, while others would turn into birds and fly away. Although the spiritual men had all been taught never to use the spiritual power in subduing the other by taking life, yet in times of war many cases of disregard to the teaching was shown, regardless of the pain of losing it, therefore some lively chase often took place, and in such a case, when a spiritual man chases another The weapons used : The weapons listed here all suggest precontact intertribal warfare.7 some swift footed animal be seen . . . while others would turn into birds : Traditional Penobscot shamans (or “spiritual men”) were believed capable of transforming themselves into their animal doubles.

172

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

and has the power to overtake the other, that will be the end of the one overtaken, and in such a case the remains of the slain never was found because the slayer never tells what became of his victim nor how the conquest was accomplished. The object in all the wars was only to subdue one another. The conqueror never takes possession [of ] any part of the country that he conquers, nor require any indemnity from the conquered; will not even take away things belonging to them, though in some instances some useful things were destroyed. There were very few battles fought in the day time; such battles took place only when two opposite armies met by accident. According to the account given by the latest traditional story tellers, this foolish and cruel war was carried on many seven times seven years or until two certain young men had grown up among the selected class. These two were most wonderful being[s]. They were a mystery to all, and were mysterious on account of their most wonderful power which they claimed to be spiritual. They had the power that when in battle and in giving the war cry or yell, all the enemy that hears them, falls to the ground and lay helpless for a long time to the mercy of their enemy, and in this way and by these means the selected became victors in many of the minor battles. It so happened that there were no big battles took place while these two reigned in battles, because their power had become known among the disappointed and they were very shy of them. But of course the people of the land have increased so much and have covered such a vast portion of the country, they were not able to cover the whole of it with their protection, therefore the enemy had some chances in committing depredations and murders among some families living on the outskirts of the country, but this did not continue very long. Meeting repulses on every hand and knowing that they had created a bitter feeling among whom they considered their enemies, and realizing the danger awaiting them, [the disappointed class and their followers] sought safety and started southward in search of those that had gone before, who went away south when the ice laid on the land. The old men of the land did not advise them to stay, but on the contrary, were rather anxious to have them go. When the people knew this there was a great rejoicing because it was then thought that the trouble had passed away, and another selection was made from among the spirited [spiritual?] men to aid those who had been so true and faithful in watching the movements of the people who



C h a p te r F iv e

173

had been seen sailing on the coast. In making the selection[,] the two young men whose power was found to be so wonderful were retained to guard the people against all invasion. A name was given to each of those young men, and it was the first time that any person received such a distinction so young as these young men were. The old men gave one of them the name of “Menus-kose,”—Ocean Island, and the other, “Mundo-ok-koke,”—Devil slayer. While these two men were young in age their power was not needed as the enemy had gone so far south that it was thought they would never return. Peace did reign for a long while and during this intervale those that were sent to follow and watch the movements of the strange people had returned and gave an accurate account of their discoveries, the description of those people, the size of their large canoe which was propelled by a brown colored cloth spread in the wind, and had smaller canoes lashed on the side of the large one, which the hairy men would lower to the water, get into them and move around in them every time the big canoe finds a quiet and safe harbor in which it can lay while the men be out examining the shores, islands, coves and rivers. The men that were sent out to watch these people made practice to secrete themselves from the view of these strange people until their big canoe had sailed far out in the ocean and got beyond their sight, which was done between sunset and sunrise. Seeing that the big canoe had gone out of sight, heading when last seen in the southern direction, then the watchmen directed their course toward their homes, which they gladly reached after having been absent for many moons and when they reached their people they were gladly received by them. Previous to the return of the watchmen, some young men were out on a hunting expedition, who, when getting upon a high point of land overlooking the sea, beheld a large craft in plain view to them, moving very briskly before the strong wind then blowing, and the craft was heading south. These young men were so far away from their people, the strange craft had sailed out of sight before they could call their people’s attention to it. The report of the young men of what they had seen was confirmed by the watchmen when they arrived home from their watching ex “Menus-kose,”—Ocean Island : a possible reference to Man-ask’oos, later known as Green Island, in the Penobscot River 8 “Mundo-ok-koke,”—Devil slayer : a possible reference to an old Penobscot name for Eastern River in Dresden, Maine 9

174

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

pedition. The stories of the two parties in giving their description of the big canoe agreed in every respect. All told how that the craft was going south. The story told by those that were sent to watch was to the effect, that they followed the people up into a large river which was so wide at its mouth that they did not cross its waters, because their canoes were so small they considered it a dangerous thing to undertake and were obliged to keep near the land on the south side of the river. But the strange people went up it so far the river became much narrower and their [i.e., the Indians’] small canoe could cross it without much difficulty. And it was here that they made so close examination of the craft, especially in the night time when it was very dark, they were so close to it, they could easily hear the people talk in a language they could not understand. These people must be great lovers of fish food as they could be seen fishing every calm morning. They would haul very large fishes up over the side of their big canoe; and these people did not carry anything away only some water. In those days a man of falsehood was not known among them therefore everything these men told was fully believed, which established the fact that [the] white man had come to the red man’s world. This discovery was not looked upon as anything strange, since it has been foretold by the old prophets; every body looked for it, even the children expected it. Since the belief of the coming of the white man had been so well established, there was plenty of work for the old men! All the daily topics was on this subject; meetings of the old men were frequently held, and the subject on what course to take upon the matter was carefully and seriously considered, and after the subject had been fully discussed by all the people throughout the country, it was thought best, and was so decided, that when the strange people came, to receive them as friends, and if possible make brothers of them. After this sentiment had been planted in the hearts and minds of all the people, all the attention was then directed to the movements of the discontented who had withdrawn, or whose act of secession was still so fresh in the minds of the people. Seeing that they had increased greatly in numbers during the many times seven years in almost silent interval, had become bold and had sought the way to

brothers : a term denoting equal status



C h a p te r F iv e

175

carry out the vow they had made and proclaimed upon their going out. Frequent reports have come, how they have been seen and threatening to do violence among the people who are living in the extreme southern part of the country, not only capturing some defenseless persons and torturing them, but in many cases carry off captives for the purpose of torture, and would, after carrying them far away from home leave them there either to die or find their way home the best they could, leaving no food for them. The women captives liberated in this manner were allowed to go unbound, but the other sex was always securely bound so that they could not feed or otherwise help themselves; thus many suffered in that way. Up to this period no lives had been taken outright; those [who] suffered death met it by the results of the cruel tortures. When all this trouble being known, it spread like the wild fire and the excitement it caused was intense, the feeling it created so bitter it was almost beyond control especially when it was known as being the works of the spiritual men of the enemy. This bitter feeling was somewhat allayed by the advice of the old men who immediately called in all of their spiritual men whom they urged to begin an active operation against the enemy, not only to protect their people, but also to make a move to subdue the enemy’s spiritual warriors. Thus the red man’s war was declared and begun. In this war, if it be called such, the head ones of it were the spiritual men, and naturally it was conducted in a manner to their direction, therefore some very curious tactics were resorted to, and many puzzling aspects were witnessed by those who were not familiar with the spiritual power. In some of these engagements the leaders, or the spiritual men met first, because they are always at the head of their forces, very often without giving orders to their men, plunged headlong into battle between themselves, using all the power there was in them, while the rest of the forces be looking on. Here the none-spiritual often see some queer sights while waiting the results of the battle between their leaders. When in such engagements, the spiritual men show such a power that they were able to disappear in an instant and in a moment later reappear on a far different spot from where last seen, and when one conquers, would be seen coming toward their men which the conquered force is not slow in perceiv-

176

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

ing, because it is to them as a signal to make a hasty retreat for safety or fight without a leader, and when a retreat thus being made, it is then the conqueror pursues, kills or take such prisoners they wished. No one was ever known being saved and life spared by surrendering, therefore each one must struggle hard for an escape or to fight till disabled, or the death blow comes. In those days the power[s] of the spiritual men were not alike, there were some who could see a long distance, and others can hear a long way, some can send their voices through the air to any distance desired, while others had the power in their war cry or yell that it takes away the strength of those they intend to disable so they fall to the ground and lay helpless for some moments and become an easy prey to the enemy. This peculiar power was never known to exist among the warriors of the south, and it is due to this that the southern forces abandoned their aggressive expeditions northward for many years, and during this quiet period some explorers from the south came along east in their canoes. These explorers were old women who had paddled their canoe all the way along the coast from “Koeh-suk” at the pines, seeking to find the oyster and clam beds which the people found and lived on during their temporary stay while on their journey south after seceding from the north. Being women with old age, they were not molested but were allowed to do their errand. They were no other but the old women, yet they were very closely watched in all their movements and doings. After exploring different points, these old women discovered the oyster beds and were able to locate the very spot. Not only oysters found at the place, but there were also forests of oak bearing acorns in the close proximity. When this was known the people rejoiced, and the old men were allowed to make a promise to the southern old women who had come and made this discovery, that they will be allowed to come and gather such supply as they wished for winter use so long as their people will not meddle [with] the poor and infirm on either side during the harvesting for the winter supply, and if, after they have returned home to their people will call together seven of their old men, and will induce them to come north, they would not be molested, but an arrangement will be made with them so that the old and infirm both from the north and the south may have an

“Koeh-suk” at the pines : now called Cohasset, on the Massachusetts coast



C h a p te r F iv e

177

equal privilege to come and get their winter supply of oysters and acorns unmolested. This generous offer of the old men of the north so pleased the old women of the south, it affected them very much and they made a solemn vow and promise that the offer will be accepted, and that the old men of the south may be looked for who will come to help make some wise arrangements. Very early the next season, the seven old men did come, when a wholesome treaty was made, which was always observed and well kept. These oyster beds were so productive that it gave a supply to all that wished for the period of many times seventy years, so that the shells of this food fish was piled up almost mountain high on the shore of a river bank for a long distance. And the oyster period was enjoyed to within quite recently, so that the mounds of these shells can now be plainly seen on the coast of Maine. Clam beds were also found later, pretty near the spot of the oyster beds, a little toward the direction of the rising sun. All these shell fish were cured by drying. Although the people stay around those oyster beds or near them almost the year round, but those who lived far away did not visit the place until just before the leaves began to fall, they then go there and gather oysters, clams and acorns for winter use. The oysters and clams were dried in the sun, and when they have been sufficiently dried are packed in “Mik-nur-queh—birch bark packing box,” in which they can be kept until winter. The “Ar-nass-cum-nal”—acorns, were also gathered in their season and dried; and in the winter time, a family wishing to have a fashionable dinner, cooks the dried oysters in water, well seasoned with the bear or seal oil, and after the oysters are well soaked and boiled, the pounded acorns were added enough to give it a good flavor. The clams were secured, cooked and served precisely the same way. As has been stated before, that this place was set apart and reserved for all the old and infirm; therefore when the harvest time comes the place contained many people from all parts of the country, and here they exchanged a great deal of information, and in this way the people of the north learned all about the southern a wholesome treaty : possibly a reference to precontact trade and/or political alliances between the Algonquian-speaking peoples of Maine and the related Algonquian-speaking tribes to the south, here Massachusetts mounds of these shells . . . on the coast of Maine : probably a reference to once-existing shell middens in and around the mouth of the Damariscotta River in Maine10

178

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

people. Those that came from the south, seeing that they had the same privileges in common with the northern people, felt very friendly and did not hesitate in giving a full account of their people at the south, and through these exchanges it was learned that while on their voyage south, and when these oyster beds were discovered, some wanted to go back home, or place where their home had been, and join their people and friends again in peace, but their leaders, the spiritual men [were] opposed to any and all such propositions and urged the people on further south. And after a long time, a dispute arose among the non-spiritual, which in time resulted in dividing the people again. Having already made a good selection of the country and had been located, many concluded to make this land to be their home, while others preferred to take backward steps toward the north, because they were very much disheartened in learning they were to fight for their existence. The supply of the stone to make the arrow heads and spear becoming scarce with them, a party of men were sent south to explore the region for the purpose of finding such stone. These men after travelling seven summers and winters, crossing many large rivers and lakes, and after seeing another ocean extending towards the setting sun, did find some such a stone, but none could be found on the shores same as in the north; what they found was on the base of the mountains away from any sea shore, and brought home so small an amount of it, did not give such encouragement as was expected. The spiritual men could hold the people together no longer and were obliged to let such portion go that wished; a large part of them came toward the north, only a small number going further south, and just how far south was never definitely known. Some of them, comprising the largest part concluded to remain on the spot previously selected, because it was near the mouth of a river abounding with game and fish; oysters were also found but the beds of them were small and produced but a little, more clams and seal were found than oysters, and for this, the portion that were dissatisfied came north and located on the southern shore of a large bay where clams, seal and eels were found in abundance, and after making a settlement on the place the name given to another ocean extending towards the setting sun : the Pacific Ocean?11 the spot previously selected : a possible reference to the many Algonquianspeaking tribes and villages around Narragansett Bay?



C h a p te r F iv e

179

it was “Go-eh-suk”—at the pines. This name was given to it because every point of land in the bay was covered with the growth of pine, hence the name of “Go-eh-suk.” From this place the old women who have been already mentioned, started toward the north to hunt up the oyster beds which they found as has been stated before. The people of the north hearing these reports, caused them to be contented; and after this wholesome arrangement had been entered into, the visits of the southern men for the purpose of committing depredation ceased for a long period, which brought much happiness. But this did not last always, as after many years the southern old people brought a report, that the people at Go-eh-suk, was about to be led by a WarSpirited man who has assumed the name of “War-har-weh,—greatest of all,” who has declared a revenge against the north, was bound to enter into mischief making and was coming north. The whole northern country having enjoyed peace so long, and the spiritual power had been waning and passing away to nothing, this news caused a great alarm, as none were known to possess the power the men had who were then dead and gone, Munus-kose and Mundo-ark-koke had both died with the old age, and none were known to have filled their places, the people did not feel secure. However the preparations were made to meet any emergency with such power they then had. It was not long when War-har-weh made his appearance at the extreme southern part of the north, made an attack on the inhabitants, killing many, took and carried away many prisoners. When this was done, the whole north was aroused to a high pitch, runners were sent out to carry and spread the news, and a general assembly of the country was called which was readily responded to by the whole north, and a war was declared against Go-eh-suk, and to subdue War-har-weh. In about seven moons, a large fleet of canoes were seen sailing on the coast heading for Go-eh-suk. The point of land where War-har-weh had located his headquarters had been so minutely given by the old people from that section, the northern forces knew exactly where to go and when to make the attack. All the arrangements were so well made and plans laid that when “Go-eh-suk”—at the pines : later named Cohasset, on the southern shore of Massachusetts Bay “War-har-weh,—greatest of all” : possibly an actual historical person or possibly a composite figure12

180

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

the place was reached in the night time, the advanced scouts had no difficulty in arranging for a successful attack. The scouts discovered War-har-weh’s headquarters on a high hill overlooking the sea, as well as the bays, which could be reached from the main land by a sand bar or peninsular which extended to the hill where War-har-weh was supposed to be sleeping. This sand bar was covered with the growth of sand grass, therefore it was called “Nan-sus-kek,” grassy foreground. The location of War-har-weh’s wigwam had been so clearly described by the old people it was easily found and attacked. But the darkness of the night was in War-har-weh’s favor, and he was able to give them the slip and got away unhurt by hiding himself among the eel grass near the water on the bay side of the sand bar where he laid till near morning, when he emerged from his hiding place and walked out on the eel grass flats and swam across a small river just before the break of day, got into a thick forest, leaving his people to the mercy of the enemy. When the northern men found that the inhabitants were not so many as had been expected, [the northern men] did not enter into slaughtering the women and children, but took a good care in killing the men, saving only such prisoners they could easily carry away with their own people who had been brought there captives by War-har-weh. Many prisoners were killed after daylight before the eyes of the women and children. War-har-weh’s wife was among them, and when asked who she was, bravely said that she was the wife of War-har-weh, and also pointed out her only son who was among the captives. This young man’s life was spared and he was securely bound and was carried north with the other prisoners. Knowing that they had secured War-har-weh’s son, and that he would go north after him after things had quieted, the army did not tarry long on the ground, was soon embarked in the canoes and was soon heading for “Qua-nee-bek,” Long Blade, at the north; and when the mouth of Qua-nee-bek was reached, here the prisoners were landed and taken to a high bluff of land, and a large force was placed there to guard them, because it was thought that War-har-weh would not make much delay in coming after his son. Before the big army was temporarily disbanded, a large meeting was held, and in this meeting “Nan-sus-kek,” grassy fore-ground : now called Nantasket, situated just north of Cohasset on Massachusetts Bay “Qua-nee-bek,” Long Blade : Kennebec River13



C h a p te r F iv e

181

an agreement and plan was made to the effect, that when War-harweh came, no matter whether he be for peace or war, he shall be beheaded and all that comes with him. As had been predicted, it was not long when a canoe was seen on the coast coming north, containing only three persons. The number being so small, was allowed to approach unmolested which soon landed where many was standing to receive them. Seeing this and upon being approached, the head of the three stepped forth holding up the pipe of peace, signifying what they had come for, were soon conducted to a wigwam which had been vacated for the purpose, and into this wigwam they were allowed to enter, and a strong guard was put upon it. Here War-har-weh made known his mission. The answer given him was, that in seven suns an answer will be given him. Runners were immediately sent out, calling in all that can come within the time specified. And this call brought out about all the North to witness the execution. The number that came was so great that the land was literally covered with people; And as there being no wigwam large enough to hold this vast assemblage, an open spot of land was selected where the council was held. When meeting had been called to order, the first move War-har-weh made was to produce the pipe of peace which he handed over to his friend who was seated next to him and commanded him to rise and hold the pipe up high, while War-har-weh turned and immediately began to unpack his pack, and after this was done he began to plead and asked for peace. Showing a large amount of wampum and other valuables which he had brought and wished to give as a ransom for his son’s release. Immediately after War-har-weh had ended his talk, “Nequ-tar-tar-wet”—The Lone Star, who was then the greatest war leader of the north stepped in front and told War-har-weh that his doom had already been sealed, and it was his duty to tell him that as he never had shown peace nor mercy to the women and children, his and his friends heads shall be taken off their bodies. And Nequ-tar-tar-wet here gave the signal to the three men who had been placed close in the rear of the doomed men, who, upon seeing the signal immediately grasped the long hair wampum : highly valued strings of white and purple beads made from mollusk shells, used for trade, ornament, or ceremonial exchange “Nequ-tar-tar-wet”—The Lone Star : translates literally as “one who shines alone,” a reference to his fabled shamanic powers14

182

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

of each of the men whose heads are to be taken off, and with a well directed aim with their long war knives, two heads were held up to Nequ-tar-tar-wet, but the third man missed his stroke and the southern man managed to break away by getting on his feet and gaining an open space after passing through the vast crowd, ran for dear life. But unfortunately for the poor man, a flank guard had previously been placed so that in case an escape was made, none of those escaped could reach the main land. The man saw this and turned to a space that he saw laid open for him, although this open space led to the highest bluff of the land, a precipice of rock, yet, to this he ran; some swift footed young warriors ran in pursuit, but the man gained the bluff. Seeing he could run no further nor retreat back, kept on, and when the edge of the precipice was reached, he made a high leap off the precipice saying as he leaped, “Ar-gur-muk,” meaning “over to the other land,” but the poor fellow did not reach there but was dashed to pieces among the rocks below. Thus ended all War-har-weh’s mission. When quiet had been restored and war assembly was about to be dissolved, it was decreed that the heads of the two warriors be preserved and shall be taken through the northern and eastern countries, from place to place by seven women. This exhibition was intended to show what will be the fate whoever undertakes to disturb the peace of the north as Warhar-weh had done. This order of the assembly was strictly carried out, these heads were exhibited from place to place for seven years. There still remained four prisoners in the hands of the northern people, who had been captured and brought north by the army that subdued War-har-weh; these were all young men, and War-har-weh’s son was among them. They all had been forced to witness the execution of their warriors. These young men had not been cruelly tortured as might have been expected, but were closely guarded and watched, [and] having shown no desire to escape were allowed many privileges, and the treatment extended to them was as good as can be expected under like circumstances. Without doubt, these young men must have laid plans for their escape while receiving so good a treatment, because not many years had elapsed when one fine morning the young the precipice : site somewhere near the mouth of the Kennebec River “Ar-gur-muk,” meaning “over to the other land” : also translates as “on the far shore,” “across the water,” or “on the other side of a body of water”



C h a p te r F iv e

183

War-har-weh was missing, which led to an investigation concerning the other three, and the result of the investigation revealed that the other three prisoners were missing, and two nice canoes and a good outfit of paddles could not be found. These two canoes were never seen afterward. This escape was considered to be so small a matter no pursuit was made, therefore these young men safely reached Go-ehsuk, which they found deserted, and upon going further south they found some of their own folks among those that were living there. When these were forced to flee for safety from the clutches of the northern army, many of the young warriors kept on further south in search of the ones who had gone that way, and who had been known to ascend a large river, which bore its direction toward the north land, which was named, “Watch-we-took”—River of mountains.

“Watch-we-took”—River of mountains : possible reference to the Hudson River?

Chapter VI. The winding up the war with the May-Quays.—The grand council established—The arrival and settlement of the white man.

These people having gone so far away, the northern people never followed them, therefore never penetrated that part of the country and knew very little about it. This much however was known, that after many years these scattered people came together and located themselves on the west shore of the big river and called themselves the “May-Quay,” May-May people, and after many years were known as the Mohawks. This scattered portion of the red people being all young and strong they naturally had the inclination of becoming warlike, but being afraid of the northern power did not venture to molest that country. They learned this from some minor raids they tried to carry out, which in all of them, met with ready-handed squads to repulse them. They were obliged to adopt the kidnapping game, and would steal persons and carry them off as prisoners, and having met with some success in this, became more bold, and began to kill more freely. When this kind of work begun, the whole north took it into its hand to subdue and do away with the whole thing. When this was undertaken, the work was so planned and executed that the May-Quay’s hope of mastery was forever blasted in a manner as will be mentioned later. When War-har-weh’s son and the other prisoners made their escape there was no attempt made to pursue them, the principal reason was of this, that just at this time an exciting news was brought from the extreme north to the effect, that the white man’s big canoe the west shore of the big river : the Mohawk River or the Hudson River?1 “May-Quay,” May-May people : The Penobscot word for Mohawk may also be written as mèkwe.2 the Mohawks : an Iroquoian-speaking people and the easternmost tribe of the Iroquois Confederacy 3



C h a pt e r S i x

185

had come again, and had landed its people who are still remaining on the land on the north shore of the “Ma-quozz-bem-to-cook, Lake River,” and have planted some heavy blocks of wood in the form of a cross. These people are white and the lower part of the faces of the elder ones are covered with hair, and the hair is in different colors, and the eyes are not alike, some have dark while others have light colored eyes, some have eyes the color of the blue sky. They have shown nothing only friendship, they take the red man’s hands in their own and bow their heads down and make many signs in the direction of the stars; and their big canoe is filled with food which they eat and also give some to those that come to them and made signs of friendship. When this news spread, the people took it so quietly and talked about it in such a way, there was no excitement, but everybody took it as though it was an old affair, yet it had such effect upon them, that it was evident that the general desire was, that the habits of the strange people must be well learned, and all agree to wait and see what kind of a treatment they will extend to the red people. If the treatment they have already extended be continued, it was thought will be the means of bringing happiness to both races. This was the conclusion reached, which after many years proved to be so wise, because it was upon this conclusion strictly lived up to, that the red man of the north never had any trouble with the white man. Although the white man has given his hand as a brother, yet, the distrust on the part of the red man was great, which had been led to it by the action and bad conduct of the May-Quays. Anticipating trouble from all quarters, knowing not from whence, or how it will come, the happiness of the north, as might be expected soon became almost “The thing of past.” Here, on one side a strange people have begun to plant themselves almost in their midst, while on the other, their own people making raids upon their weakest points; still the “Ma-quozz-bem-to-cook, Lake River” : literally translates as “at the lakeriver,” probably the Saint Lawrence River 4 the red man of the north never had any trouble with the white man : probably a reference to the generally amicable relations between northeastern Algonquian tribes and the French “The thing of past.” : colloquial phrase, “a thing of the past” their own people making raids upon their weakest points : possible reference to raids by Micmacs during the Tarrantine Wars (1607–15) or to raids by the Mohawks 5

186

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

attention they were bound to give to this strange white man never for a moment wavered, because the stranger’s action toward them was of such a nature and so impressive, no hostilities toward him was talked, nor even thought of. The signs of brotherhood has been manifested by him so plainly that everyone having the chance of meeting him, greets him with the “Nitchieh,”—brother. Because all his actions were taken as such. But the most striking character of his works was in his endeavors in converting the people to become believers in his spiritual teachings; being yet a whole believer in the spiritual power, the red man, when taught thus, readily conceived the idea and believed in such teaching and was ready to wait and see the outcome of it. Meanwhile the works of those terrible May-Quay’s had become so unbearable that something must be done to quell it, even if they had to be wiped out of the land forever, because many people have already been converted and were not only believers, but followers of the white man’s doctrine and it had made such a change in them they knew enough to be cautious and slow in their movements in this direction. Seven years was agreed upon to make a general aggressive move. And during these seven years of council a well planned campaign had been perfected. Although the people had already been well scattered to the South, North, East and West, yet by careful canvassing it was found that all were having the same mind; and it was also found among those that emigrated to other parts of the country, had received the doctrine of the white man and all wanted peace. To make a permanent affair of it, an act of federation was adopted by all the north, embracing the north of “Ko-chi-koke,”—a great gum river, extending to the extreme east of “Mik-murk-keag,”—the youngest land, and as far west as “Odur-wur-keag,”—father land. Seven years was found a sufficient time in which to make all necessary arrange an act of federation : a mid-eighteenth-century alliance combining members of the earlier Wabanaki Confederacy (the Penobscot, Maliseet, Passamaquoddy, Micmac bands, and some other northern New England Algonquian tribes) with the Huron, the Ottawa, and the French-allied mission villages of converted Indians along the Saint Lawrence River “Ko-chi-koke,”—a great gum river : possible reference to Passadumkeag Stream in Maine or to the Coaticook River in Vermont?6 “Mik-mur-keag” : the land or territory of the Micmac7 “Odur-wur-keag” : the land or territory of the Ottawa 8



C h a pt e r S i x

187

ments and a war cry was to be heard all over the land, and an outbreak of the May-Quays was anxiously looked for at the same time. Whether through a spy or otherwise, they must have known what was up, because they did not venture out on any raiding expedition for at least another seven years. And during all these years, they were closely watched and were at last discovered to be on the move with a large force, heading for Mik-mur-keag; and the route selected was down the Ma-qozz-bem-to-cook. They had scarcely made the move when a war signal was given all over the land; Odur-wer, came down on the same river not far in May-Quay’s rear; others rushed from their quarters and in a very few days all of the northern forces met at the extreme eastern part of Mik-mur-keag; but not a trace of MayQuays had been discovered by the parties that came from all directions, yet they were, when last seen, coming down the river in canoes; Odur-wur, who also came down the same river in canoes saw nothing of them. After the army had got together the leaders of it met in council and it was decided to hunt them up and to wind up the war with them if possible. A careful search was being made on both sides of the big river and all the small branches carefully examined, but no trace of them could be found. A sand Island, near the mouth of “Tur-too-saqu,”—ledge door, was passed several times, but being a barren sand Island and could be examined with the eye from the distant waters, it was not expected that they would be on it, in fear of being easily found, therefore the army passed by it several times, yet the May-quays were on that Island, buried in the sand, not only themselves but their canoes were buried as well so that not a vestige could anyone have seen unless he was stepping on them, and in this way they escaped detection. And when the search was being abandoned in that part of the river, a canoe was seen coming down containing four men, who were allowed to approach and were found to be friends, and had come to join them in their war. These folks reported that they had made a very close observations of all parts of the country and had discovered nothing of the enemy, a change of tactics was then adopted, because it was then supposed that the enemy was on the sand Island; so a stratagem was planned and put into “Tur-too-saqu,”—ledge door : possible reference to Tadoussac, Quebec, situated at the confluence of the Saguenay and Saint Lawrence rivers, a major French trading post in the seventeenth century 9

188

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

operation in this manner; that the same canoe that came down, after taking out two of its passengers and the remaining two to go along toward the mouth of Tur-too-saqu, on a hunting pretense. They are to be looking for game from place to place until the mouth of the river [is] reached, then if no signs of the enemy being discovered, they are to strike out with all possible haste directly for the sand Island and when they have reached the latter place, when nearing its shore to sing out “Quai” a well known salute among hunters when they meet. Being thus saluted they will naturally feel that have been discovered, and will strive hard to capture or kill their discoverers so as to be able to further elude the pursuing party if there was one on their track. As a lively chase was expected to follow, the route of retreat laid out was to be directly back to the mouth of Tur-too-saqu, and if closely pursued run up it, until a good landing place is reached, and if still pursued run ashore, leave the canoe and run up the mountain, take a circuitous route to the shore of the big river where there will be a small squad detailed to pick them up; and if not successful in the first attempt in drawing out the enemy, make another effort after resting half day. This second attempt will surely draw them out, because they then will be fully convinced that they have been discovered; and if the second attempt drew out nothing, to come to the main force when some other plan be tried. The second attempt, however, was not needed, because when these hunters got within a hailing distance of the island, [they] saw a man on the move from one place to another, and to this man the hunters shouted “Quai,” who responded with a signal yell which brought the whole army out of the sand where it had been laying hid for several days. Without making further examination, the hunters turned the bow of their canoe shoreward and pulled for Tur-too-saqu, while the enemy clambered, and lifted their canoes out of the sand mounds, launched and filled them with warriors and gave a chase. Those that were launched on the side of the island next to the fugitives got on the chase so much sooner, they got far in advance before the rest of the force got underway on the chase; meanwhile the northern army which had been silently drifting down by the island during the previous night, and had disembarked and had hidden their canoes in the bushes, rushed “Quai” : a greeting or salutation (like “hi” or “hello”); also spelled “KKwey” and still used by the Penobscots



C h a pt e r S i x

189

out with them and was soon on the scene of this grand chase. The enemy seeing this and perceiving the magnitude of its army, immediately began to show signs of bewilderment, and in their perplexity attempted to recall, and even pulled to head off the rest of their force from further pursuit; but that part of the force got so far in advance, knew nothing of what was taking place behind them kept on chasing the hunters. About one-third of the May-Quay’s army was in this hot pursuit while the balance of it whirled and began to pull back for the sand Island. But this was useless, as the northerners had anticipated this, and had laid plans to avert it, and without much effort headed off the May-Quay army which they soon surrounded and disarmed mid the waters of the Great Lake river. Both armies then rested and looked on to see the two squads who are both on a chase. The MayQuay’s did not know that they were being pursued until just before reaching the mouth of Tur-too-saqu, then only when their pursuers got so near upon them that they heard the racket made by them, when the leader of the May-Quays looked around and saw that they were being closely pursued by the enemy, and who had already got the space between him and his friends, [the May-Quay leader] undertook to turn and slip by his pursuer and get back to the main force; but the quick-eyed northerner would not allow this done when he could so easily prevent it by making a flank move which he did, which caused the May-Quays to turn again and continue on towards Turtoo-saqu which they soon reached, and ran along near the shore, and when an opportunity offered, jumped out of their canoes, ran up the mountain while their pursuers were close at their heels. In this way the two squads flew up the mountain, and when May-Quay saw the hopelessness of making further effort to escape, made a stand from which to give a battle. This battle was a fierce one which lasted all the rest of the day. And when night was fast approaching with no apparent gain on either side, the leaders on both sides being great warriors got very much excited over the day’s work, both got exasperated over its outlook, both at the same moment determined to bring the matters to a close by making one great and the last effort, decided to use the spiritual power that was in them, which both had been hesitating to bring to bear upon their fellowmen; knowing that when they use it the Great Lake river : presumably the same “Ma-quozz-bem-to-cook, Lake River” mentioned earlier; probably the Saint Lawrence River

190

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

in that way, it will depart from them forever, therefore hesitated to resort to such work. But things had got so far that discretion was no longer a part of valour, both at the same moment, unbeknown to each, stepped in front, gave the earth a violent stamp with the right foot, at the same time throwing his war weapons savagely on the earth. This was done to start an earthquake, and it so happened in this case that the leaders of both of these forces possessed the same power, and by applying it at the same moment caused a severe earthquake to follow, and so severe was it, it not only shook things, but the earth itself parted and swallowed up both forces while they were thus engaged in a deadly conflict; leaving only the two leaders on both sides standing, and listening to the screeches made by the men they had been leading; screeches issuing from under the earth where these poor men are forever shut up. Seeing what they had done, and knowing that by using and abusing the spiritual power in the manner they did, was a sufficient cause for them to lose the art, so they both advanced to each other, shook hands, and made peace over the chasm. And while on their way back to their people, made the compromise that they shall both abide by the results of the works of their main forces to which they belonged. The main forces were not idle while all this was going on up in the mountains. Everything had been all settled on the water where the May-Quays were held prisoners, and the two forces were waiting to get the news from their respective squads and hear the results. When night was nearing, the old warriors said that there must be a hard battle raging between the two squads somewhere up the Tur-too-saqu. At this, the May-Quays showed signs of uneasiness, while the northerners [who] had so much confidence in their men waited with all possible quietude and calmness. This drifting around in the river was kept up all night, and when the morning discretion was no longer a part of valour : paraphrase of “The better part of valour is discretion,” from Shakespeare’s King Henry IV, Part I, Act 5, scene 4 a severe earthquake : While it was traditionally believed that Penobscot shamans had the power to make the earth shake, it is also the case that the Saint Lawrence River Valley, Maine, and parts of Massachusetts were areas of considerable seismic activity through the eighteenth century.10 they shall both abide by the results of the works of their main forces to which they belonged : i.e., The two war chiefs agree that the victor shall be determined by the outcome of the fighting taking place between the two opposing armies at the base of the mountain.



C h a pt e r S i x

191

came, when the sun was just rising, a canoe was seen coming directly toward the armies, and when the canoe arrived it was found to contain the two leaders of the squads who had been chasing one another for the last day and night. It did not take long for the returned leaders to relate and make known what had been taking place up among the mountains and what had become of their friends. When the MayQuays knew this it agitated their spirit very much and finally [they] asked to be allowed to withdraw from where they were then kept to consult among themselves so that they may come to a final conclusion what action to take to settle their situation, and no doubt [i.e., allay any doubt] but that they may enter into what may be expected of them in the future. A short consultation was allowed them, and they were allowed to withdraw from their captors, who took such a precaution that they took all the paddles from their captives leaving them floating about without them, and were only allowed to keep together by holding their canoes while the consultation was being held. The northerners having withdrawn to a short distance from them also held a consultation to see what to do with the prisoners. It did not take long for them to decide that should the prisoners ask for anything other than a permanent peace, all the best warriors shall be slain leaving only a few to escape death who shall receive a permanent mark upon their person, such as cutting off the ears, nose, or an eye plucked out, after which be allowed to go their way in peace. While this council was holding, the May-Quay gave the signal that their conference had ended, and the northerners immediately repaired to join them. Upon getting together, the May-Quays made a vow with great solemness, that if allowed, they would live in peace with all the people in all times to come, and were ready then to accede to any and all things required of them. The northerners, though conquerors, yet upon hearing such declaration gave them great joy, and another council was immediately held, and in this, the prayer of the prisoners was granted. And in order to satisfy all who had been troubled more or less with the past wars, a place was selected where a grand council fire was to be located and established, where all the heads of clans which had previously been changed into tribes, shall a grand council fire : an established site where delegates from the different participating tribes would meet regularly and, through ceremony and ritual, symbolically keep the flame of their mutual friendship burning brightly

192

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

go once in seven years to renew the council fire and talk over matters for the general good. And it was here decreed that the prisoners shall establish their quarters on the place designated, there to take care of the council fire, and whenever a delegation comes to the grand council fire to renew it, they shall furnish food for all that come and shall furnish shelter and give all necessary comfort during the stay of the delegation without pay. This was the proposition submitted to MayQuays which they readily accepted, and a treaty of this nature was made, and to make it lasting, a large collection of wampum was made from all parts of the country which was afterwards woven into a wampum band two hands wide and twenty-one hands long, and along in the middle part many different characters were woven in, representing what the band was made for and who are concerned in it. This band was [an expression of ] the grand council fire which was left in the care of the May-Quays who were very faithful to their duty until very recently when they began to show signs of change in their demenour [i.e., demeanor] which was soon discovered, and the visits to the grand council fire was after a while stopped. This discontinuance was brought about by the action of Odur-wur which was soon followed by all the other tribes. The spot selected where the grand council fire was to be established was at the head of the first big rapids of the great lake river, and the name given to it was “K’chi-skoo-tek,” grand council fire. As has been stated before, that all the tribes visit this council fire every seven years, and during the council days all kinds of sports were enjoyed by the young class. At first the May-Quays seemed pleased to have the people come, and took much pride in being able to entertain decently all that came, and always seemed delighted in serving as the keeper, but after a long while wanted to be the commander, wanted to be boss, this the people wampum band : multiple strings of highly valued white and purple beads (made from marine shells) woven together to form pictographic images and symbols; usually given to confirm and solemnize treaties The spot selected . . . was at the head of the first big rapids of the great lake river : Caughnawaga, Quebec, below Montreal on the banks of the Saint Lawrence River11 “K’chi-skoo-tek,” grand council fire : Identifying a symbolic hearth or fire with a political institution probably first arose among the nations of the Iroquois Confederacy.



C h a pt e r S i x

193

could not tolerate, and quit going there. The last visit made from the east was only fifty-three years ago, and some of the young men that went with the old men on that last visit are still living. One feature of the federation that can be called pleasant, is that the people divided themselves into three classes, the father, eldest son and the youngest son. “Odur-wur” [the Ottawa] was the father, “Wur-bar-Nar-ki, [the Wabanaki Confederacy]—dawn lander,” the eldest son, and “MikMur, [the Micmac]—the last born” was the youngest son. And after the division was made the oldest Mik-mur present, was undressed and put into “T’ki-nur-gann,”—cradle, where he was kept tied and fed all day like the little babe, and every time the delegation met at the grand council fire this performance was repeated, which shows that the Mik-mur was once selected as the youngest of all, he must always be treated like a little baby. And again, what made the other part of this treaty more harmonizing and solemn, and has carried its impression into the minds of all the generations that followed was, that after the May-Quays made their final surrender to the northerners, the two young warriors who escaped the earthquake were made to lead both of the armies to the spot where the two squads had been sunk, and upon reaching the place which had been the battle ground, all was found in much confusion, nothing but the signs of the late eruption of the earth could be seen. But the screeches of the poor creatures that were shut up under the earth could be plainly heard. So plainly were they, that the words they uttered could be understood by those that listened. Their cry is for peace, and nothing but peace. These screeches were so pitiful and susceptible they caused much feeling among all that heard them, the strongest and the hardest heart could resist no longer, but every heart melted and joined in the agreement that this spot shall always be held sacred in the hearts of all the people, and that the peace made over its chasm shall stand forever, and the people shall visit the sacred spot at least once in seven The last visit . . . was only fifty-three years ago : While one group within the Penobscot Nation may have withdrawn from the great council fire around 1840, other tribes continued to send delegates into the 1860s and 1870s. three classes, the father, eldest son and the youngest son : ritualized patterns of respect and mutual obligation based symbolically on kinship relations final surrender to the northerners : In the considerable Wabanaki tribal lore about the Mohawk Wars, the Algonquians are always the victors; in Iroquois lore, the opposite prevails.

194

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

years. This agreement was well observed and kept up by all the people and the spot was visited quite frequently for many times seventy years, and every time the ground being visited the screeches of these poor creatures who are shut up there can be heard very plain. This ended all the wars among the red people. Next follows the coming of the white man, as has been stated, the strange people had already planted blocks of wood in the form of a cross, and also how kind and brotherly he was, had such a weight in the heart of the red man the people waited with much interest to see him come again. The conquest of the northerners over the May-Quays was so pleasing to all the people they were ready to accept anything offered them by almost anyone in the form of peace, so when the white man came and lived among them they were ready to receive and believe his doctrine. The reason of this ready belief was because the teaching was similar to the one the spiritual men of the people had been teaching, so when the white man’s missionaries came they had an easy task in converting to its folds many and all that could be reached. At about this period another white man came in his big canoe and landed on the shore of the eastern coast almost in the midst of the northern country, on a high island very near the spot where Klosekur-beh and the dog killed the first moose. Here the white man planted his cross, and here he lingered until after many other white men came. Here the red man received the religion of the white man. The red man was now ready to be converted and resigned himself to wait for the future fate that may come.

on the shore of the eastern coast . . . near the spot where Klose-kur-beh and the dog killed the first moose : Depending on the area of their traditional homelands, the different tribes within the Wabanaki Confederacy situate this event as having taken place at different locations (albeit always within the tribal homeland). The Penobscots generally identify the site as Cape Rosier.

Conclusion.

Not wishing to indulge too freely in the habit of negligence thereby leaving my readers in the dark on the very matters that the people wish, or ought to know, I deem it expedient, before coming to the final close with this work, to give the fullest account possible, of the daily life and convenience of these people who are now on the descending slide scale to a point not yet settled. First, I call the attention of the reader to the time when the red man looked upon, or was wholly dependent on the Great Spirit in furnishing him so to meet all his daily needs. But it was not long before he discovered that something must be done by man, especially in the matter of keeping the fire going, so that he could have it by him and set up a blaze when he wished, because there had been many instances where people were obliged to go without it for a long time. True, the Great Spirit would not let them suffer, and the idea of the people being in the same way [i.e., suffering], would diligently seek deliverance, and often scouring the country to find a small speck of fire from which they could gather their supply. There never was a time that they were obliged to return empty handed, but always found that being patient in the continuous hunt would find a tree that had been struck by lightning that still retained the fire that had been brought upon it. But the difficulty was how to keep it burning while it was being transported from one place to another, especially in the case where the places are far apart. Experiment solved that the outer bark of the “Kunks-koosi,”—cedar tree, after having been rubbed fine would take fire readily and keep burning until it was all consumed; but on account of its heavy smoke it Conclusion : Throughout this section, the reader will note Nicolar’s efforts to preserve knowledge of traditional (often precontact) material culture and Penobscot-language vocabulary, both of which were imperiled as Penobscot children increasingly attended schools where they were taught exclusively in English and where Native cultures and history were altogether ignored (and even suppressed).

196

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

would have to be carried in the hand uncovered; yet, no other method was found that would answer any better until after many years had elapsed when it was discovered that some parts of the green hard wood tree produced a dry, rotten wood now called spunk, which substance would burn very slowly and never go out until every speck of it had been consumed. It burnt so slow that a very small piece lasted half a day and emitted scarcely any smoke, so that it could be carried in a pouch made for the purpose. Then came the question how to prepare it so it will not burn the pouch. Clam shells were found just what was needed after having been lined with the blue clay and a small aperture having been left open between the two shells through which, what smoke there was might escape; these shells were put together and tied tightly and put into the pouch made of a whole skin of the “Mo-nim-queh-so,”—woodchuck, which can be carried on one’s belt outside of all the garments. No part of the skin was sewed, having been skinned whole, only one hole cut lengthwise from the base of the skull down on the back long enough to admit the hand. In preparing the skin the skull after having the flesh well scraped off and the bone dried, turned back into its place, is then ready to be hung on the belt where it will not slip out. The tree that produces the best “Chi-quoqu-soqu,”—spunk, is the “Wee-quesk,”—yellow birch, and the shells used were not of the common “Aiss,”—clam, but it was the “Chim-quor-hur,” which was of the thick and round species commonly known as the quahog. Being lined with the “Mur-sar-loon-esqu,”—blue clay, kept the heat in the shells sufficiently, and will not burn things so that the hunter and others were able to carry fire with them all the time. After many years it was found necessary that something else must be found so that in case of all the fires be[ing] out that a fire might be brought when it was wanted without hunting for it. After much careful study, one young genius discovered that by having a speed wheel made from the inner bark of the yellow birch in three or four thicknesses, fastened together so that it will have some weight, and a small soft wood spindle two or three hands long, put through this wheel so that when the wheel whirls it would turn the spindle. The spindle must be longer from the wheel up than below it. To the top end of this

spunk : antiquated English word for a kind of slow-burning dry tinder quahog : a species of edible clam with a hard rounded shell



C o n cl u s i o n

197

spindle some fine strips of the skin of the “Na-hur-mo,”—eel, are fastened, allowing the strips to be in sufficient lengths so that when the wheel turns it carries the spindle with it and the strings would wind around the spindle, the other end of the strings being tied to another stick which is placed in a horizontal position with one of these strings on each end, and the spindle being in upright position so when the wheel is in motion it winds up the strings and the horizontal stick. When the operator finds the stick is well up to the top of the spindle, [the operator] presses the stick down, it stops the whirl of the wheel and soon begins to revolve the other way, this repeated a lively blaze is brought at the foot of the spindle, a spunk is applied and a fire is had. This horizontal stick does not only act to turn the wheel but it also helps to hold up the whole machine. The foot part of the spindle where the fire is expected to come must be very dry, and the thing that turns on [it] must be equally so. The pouch in which the fire is carried was called “Pitson-ungun.” To make a vessel to boil water was an easy thing to invent. It was simply to turn up the edges of the “Mus-queh,”—birch bark, so it will form a hollow part, and a small stick is bent and fastened around the top to hold the edges together. It is then ready to be filled with the “Neppi,”—water, and put on the “Skoo-teh,”—fire. This fire must be composed chiefly of hot coals, because if a blaze be allowed to run up to the top of the [birch bark] kettle it would soon burn off the [wooden stick] fastenings. “Sur-lur-waia,”—salt, was never used. “Sunk-kur-dee,”—needle, was a piece of bone found in certain parts of “Par-nar-kusso,”—sable. The little bone has an eye like the needle of to-day, and after sharpening the other end the needle is ready for use. But in sewing, the holes are first made with the “Magoos,”—awl, made from the tail of “So-paqui-tol-peh,”—sea turtle, which is of the horseshoe species. Dried common thorns,—“Kur-weesiark,” were used as common pins. “Emquann,”—spoon, and “Quartsis,”—drinking cup, were both made of birch bark. In some instances the spoon is made of “Arparsi,”— wood. It is then called “Arpars-emquen.” “Wur-bur-bee,”—wampum, is made from the different colored sea shells which are now extinct. The parts of the shell got out fit for use are rubbed on some the different colored sea shells which are now extinct : Recognizing the value of wampum in trade, Europeans established wampum “factories” on Long

198

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

gritty stone to shape them. Then the awl is used to make the holes. The making of the holes was the slowest part of the work, therefore when it was made it was considered valuable. It was never intended to be used as money. True there were many instances where it was exchanged for some other things, yet the principal object was that it only be used as the pledge of honor; say for instance, that whenever a person or persons wished their words to be taken honorably and [they] give wampum with their words, [this gift of wampum] will be sufficient to settle the thing desired. Matches for marriages were made by the old people and here the wampum is used as the pledge of honor on the man’s part. Marriages are made by the young couple making a solemn vow and seven bows in silence toward the sun when it was highest on that day in presence of the old folks that made the match, who pronounced them “Nis-we Chik,”—husband and wife, after which the man follows his new bride to her folks where they are to stay two years at least. Some names of the different places which have been mentioned in this work are found to have been corrupted by the white man in trying to speak the original words as were given by the red man. We find that the word “Goeh-suk,”—at the pines, has been changed to Cohasset, and then the word “Nan-sus-keg,”—grassy foreground, has been changed to Nantasket, also the word “Quen-ne-bek,”—long blade, to Kennebec. And the word “Ar-gur-muk,”—over to the other land, has been changed to Hock Mock. The last mentioned place was where War-har-weh and his friend were beheaded, which is at the mouth of the Kennebec river. The name of “Mar-dar-mes-kun-teag,”— young shad pool has also been changed to Damariscotta. The country where so many oak acorns were harvested and where the oyster shell mounds can now be seen. The acorns are called “Ar-nas-com-nal,”— oak tree, “Ar-nas-com-messi,”and oysters, “Mardes-sus-suk.” Reading and writing were never taught, the people had no notion of getting in that way until after they had divided themselves into clans. Island and in New Jersey; as a consequence, the clam species needed to produce wampum—especially the purple beads—became increasingly scarce. Hock Mock : possible reference to either Hockomock Point or Hockomock Channel, ten miles southeast of Damariscotta on the Pemaquid Peninsula, near Bremen, Maine oak tree, “Ar-nas-com-messi” : probably refers to the red oak tree



C o n cl u s i o n

199

In forming and organizing the clans, some noted man is set up as the head of the clan, and the lineage of him is traced down to all the descendants who are claimed as the members of the clan. Some took so much pride in their clans that they began to draw lines of distinction and adopted some animal, fish or fowl as the symbol of their clans. This new idea set them up to writing or making marks, so that they could be understood by those who see them. Whenever a person enters into some new country, and wishes others to know that he had been there, [he] makes a mark on the side of a tree where the bark had been knocked off, here the emblem of the clan is prominently pictured out. Picture of a wigwam represents the home of the family; picture of a person facing from it means going from home; facing to it represents going home; picture of the Sun means day; the Moon, Month. When a person writes the number of days of his absence, marks out the sun, and under it puts as many notches as there are days of his absence, and if it be months, uses the moon instead but exactly in the same manner. We will now mention one of each of the animals, fish and fowl that were adopted as the symbols for some clans. “Arwa-soose,”—bear, “Ar-na-tar-so,”—humming bird, and the fish sturgeon, “Kar-par-seh.” Besides the medicine prepared by the old women to heal the sick, there was found after many years, or just previous to the coming of the white man, a natural medicinal water in the vicinity of “Karskoke,”—at the crane, which was found to contain very powerful healing powers, the effects which was very much the same as the medicine prepared by the healers, therefore it was considered very valuable, and the spot was visited by all the people from all parts of the country, and they continued their visits until after the white man came. The people did not wish to quit, nor go without enjoying the great benefit of this medicine water, and kept going there until the white man took possession of it. Since that time we have been informed that Picture : Pictographic symbols like those listed here were employed by many northeastern Algonquian peoples as a means of written communication long before the arrival of Europeans; most often, these images were inscribed with charcoal on pieces (or scrolls) of birch bark. “Kars-koke,”—at the crane : literally, “at the kàsko,” or “at the great blue heron.” Casco is an older name for what is now part of Portland, Maine.

200

The Life and Traditions of the Red Man

it has gone into the hands of an individual, a white man, of the town of Deering, Maine. According to the old traditional story tellers, this water boils [i.e., bubbles] out of the earth in a country of rocks a short walk from the shore of Kars-koke [Casco Bay] in the direction of the setting sun. This great medicine water was called “K’chit-ka-bi.” THE END.

“K’chit-ka-bi.” : literally, “great spring water” or, more properly, “great cold spring water”1

No tes to the Nic o la r T e xt

* Preface * 1  Carol Dana of the Penobscot Nation reports of the “happy hunting ground” that “my mother told me that we believed that we would go there. . . . Spemkik ayan land above was sort of like heaven; we believed there was a mirror image of this world in spirit.” But, Dana explains, “after the Catholic religion came we said just animals go there” (e-mail dated February 9, 2006).

* Chapter I * 1  In some Penobscot oral traditions, Gluscap addresses (sea) Turtle as his maternal uncle; and Turtle addresses Gluscap as his sister’s son (i.e., nephew). Consistent with that tradition, here Natar-wun-sum says that he is born from “the beautiful foam of the waters.” 2  Nee-gar-oose appears to represent a female life-giving force associated with and derived from “the beautiful plant of the earth.” She thus embodies the strength, vitality, and energy derived from plant life and horticulture, including the corn maiden figure. 3  In an e-mail dated February 8, 2006, Carol Dana corrects the priests’ impressions by noting that “We pray toward the sun to acknowledge life, and we knew our life source is the sun and the union of the sun and the earth. I don’t think we were worshipping the sun. We also bowed to the sun in our marriage ceremonies and dedicated our new children to the sun.” 4  These are possibly veiled references to the damming and pollution of the Penobscot River, the spewing of noxious vapors into the air from the mills along the river, and various stone quarries and mines dug into the earth.

* Chapter II * 1  In a telephone conversation on February 23, 2006, Arnie Neptune, a traditionally oriented Penobscot spiritual leader and elder, suggested that the number seven comprises the “seven directions”: the four cardinal directions (east, west, north, south) plus “Mother Earth, Father (or sometimes Grandfather) Sky, and the Spirit Within.” All these, he explained, are considered “directions” by the Penobscot. He also agreed that Nicolar’s use of the number seven here

202 N ot e s t o C h a p t er Three could represent a combination of the four cardinal directions and the three known physical realms (the world beneath the waters, the earth world, and the sky world). I am grateful to Arnie Neptune for his guidance and for his permission to quote him. 2  Fossil evidence suggests that at least some of the giant mammals that roamed North America during the Pleistocene epoch may not have become extinct until relatively recently, ca. AD 1000 or even later. Therefore, it is possible that ancestral memories of such giant beasts inform the stories of Gluscap taming and transforming them into smaller creatures. In Fossil Legends of the First Americans, the folklorist Adrienne Mayor suggests that many Native American groups not only took notice of the megafauna embedded in fossils but also collected these fossils and developed elaborate stories to explain the origins and disappearance of extinct creatures. 3  While most mammoths died out about 10,000 years ago, some groups of smaller mammoths are known to have survived in the Arctic until about 4,000 years ago. Mammoths may have been hunted by Paleoindian peoples in North America, but their extinction is generally attributed to climate changes which destroyed the mammoths’ habitat. 4  Mayor postulates that fossils and/or ancient cultural memories of encounters may be behind many Native American legends and accounts of both thunderbirds and water monsters (or giant serpents). 5  While all the marine species encountered by Klose-kur-beh on his great journey are found in the Atlantic off the coast of North America, not all the plant foods he encounters are native to North America (including bananas, oranges, and potatoes). The culture hero’s journey through a presumptive ancient homeland, therefore, may represent an attempt to hint at very old transAmerican trade networks as well as trade routes established after contact. 6  In the Penobscot numerical system, numbers between six and ten are constructed etymologically as five-plus-one (for six), five-plus-two (for seven), and so on.

* Chapter III * 1  In “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 7, 43–44, Frank Speck offers two slightly different versions of this story, with the locations identified, and quotes another variant collected by Charles Godfrey Leland (9). 2  Speck reports that he learned the following from some of his Penobscot ­“informants”: Gluskabe “killed the moose and cast its entrails across the water. There they still appear as a streak of white rock on the bottom of the bay at Cape Rosier” (“Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 7). 3  In another version of this story collected by Speck, Gluskabe does turn “his dog into stone, and there he sits” among the rocks at Cape Rosier (“Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 44). 4  In a variant of this story retold by Speck in “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 44, Gluskabe “cooked his moose meat in his kettle near the big lake.



N ot e s t o C h a pt e r Four

203

When he had eaten he turned his kettle over and left it there turned into stone. It can still be seen. It is the mountain called Kineo.” 5  Traditionally, the Penobscot are believed to have had twenty-two separate clans; today, the number of clans is much reduced. 6  Stories about the arrival of Corn Maiden and her subsequent transformation and self-sacrifice as Corn Mother recur throughout the tribal nations of North America. Algonquian versions of these stories generally emphasize two elements: the sacrifice of Corn Mother for the betterment of humankind and the need for human involvement in the planting, sowing, and reaping of domesticated maize. By implication, these stories also associate human women’s life-giving powers in the birth process with the life-giving fertility of Mother Earth. 7  Around the year AD 1000 there was a significant climatic warming expressed in warmer winters and longer growing periods. During that relatively brief three-hundred-year warming period, Native peoples in Maine experimented with the growing of corn, beans, squash, and, possibly, some strains of tobacco—all crops introduced from the west and south. By the time Europeans intruded in the sixteenth century, the climate had deteriorated, bringing back harsher winters and shorter growing periods. In The Archaeology of New Eng‑ land, 56, Dean Snow posits a precontact west-to-east transition from horticultural communities on the Merrimack, through communities on the Androscoggin and Kennebec where there was a tentative commitment to horticulture, to the nonhorticultural communities of the Penobscot. . . . The primary constraint on the spread of horticulture appears to have been the shorter growing season in the eastern [river] drainages. Later in the seventeenth century reduction of the native population coupled with the development of a regular fur trade allowed the Indians of the Penobscot to adopt horticulture even with all its risks of failure. The fur trade provided them with access to food from southern New England and the means to pay for it. Therefore, the fur trade became not just a means for the Indians to enter a larger economic system and acquire imported manufactured goods, but was also a hedge against crop failure. In 1600 they did not yet have that reliable hedge and could not risk adopting horticulture as some of their relatives to the west had done.

* Chapter IV * 1  In an August 5, 2005, e-mail, Conor McDonough Quinn speculates that the name No-chi-gar-neh has its roots in “an older stratum of the [Penobscot] language” and “is most likely not of recent origin.” As is often the case in Eastern Algonquian stories, figures like No-chi-gar-neh—who bring major changes— have multiple and multivalent symbolic meanings. Here, the periodic turning of the boy’s body may symbolize the rotation of the seasons. His name’s etymological connection with the gathering of bones may signify the increased danger of death during the winter season. Moreover, in Nicolar’s telling, No-chi-gar-neh’s

204 N ot e s t o C h a pt er Five attenuated body (his missing bones) links him with other frightening figures in Algonquian lore who also have attenuated or incomplete bodies and represent a special threat to children. Yet No-chi-gar-neh is not an evil figure. He allows his bones to be removed and lies dormant in sleep so that, in the interim, medicinal plants to stave off the ills of winter may flourish. And he brings sacred knowledge to those selected as shamans (or “spiritual men”). The pattern of the narrative is one of balance and reciprocity. No-chi-gar-neh may bring harsher winters, but he also prepares the people to survive the changed conditions. 2  This passage and all the following teachings by No-chi-gar-neh were probably influenced by the observed activities of and the stories told by and about Nicolar’s famous grandfather, the reputedly powerful meteoulin John Neptune. As with No-chi-gar-neh’s instruction to the chosen seven young men, John Neptune was similarly said to have constructed for himself “a little house of interwoven branches” in which he communed with “small spotted salamanders. . . . his familiar spirits” (Eckstorm, Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans, 36–37). 3  This entire chapter appears to carry traces of ancestral memories of dramatic shifts in climate. Clearly, the ancestors of the Penobscot lived through many changing climatic episodes over the centuries, including periods of relatively temperate environments. A little over a thousand years ago, the northeastern portions of the United States and the eastern sections of Canada south of the Canadian shield were warmed by a climatic period known as the Medieval Maximum (or the Medieval Warming Period). This lasted for roughly 300 years, during which horticulture was introduced into parts of Maine. But the climate began to cool again around AD 1250–1300, making horticulture unreliable and bringing on repeated crop failures. Known as the Little Ice Age, this period of harsher winters and cooling climate lasted about five hundred years, through about 1700. Because Europeans began arriving in significant numbers in the 1600s, while conditions associated with the Little Ice Age still prevailed, this may explain why the white man was identified with “the cold season.” About 1700, modern climatic conditions began to appear (see Snow, “Northeast Late Woodland,” 339).

* Chapter V * 1  Between 1600 and 1700, New England experienced extremely cold temperatures and brutal winters, resulting in repeated crop failures, famine, and the spread of disease (see MacDougall, The Penobscot Dance of Resistance, 56). Significantly, this period also coincides with European exploration and colonization in Maine. With the hunting party’s discovery of a stranger’s footprints in the lines that follow, Nicolar clearly links the two events. Nicolar thereby explains Klose-kur-beh’s statement in chapter one that “the cold season shall be the White man’s season.” In fact, Europeans did first begin serious explorations and colonization in Maine during the worst of the Little Ice Age. 2  This may be a reference to historical tribal memory of the consequences of



N ot e s t o C h a pt e r Fiv e

205

the eruption of the Huanyaputina volcano in southern Peru in 1600. According to Fagan in The Little Ice Age, “the volcano discharged at least 19.2 cubic kilometers of fine sediment into the upper atmosphere. The discharge darkened the sun and moon for months and fell to earth as far away as Greenland . . .” (104). Fagan adds that “Huanyaputina ash played havoc with global climate. The summer of 1601 was the coldest since 1400 throughout the northern hemisphere”(105). The years 1600 and 1601 also roughly coincide with several early European explorations along the coast of Maine and in the Canadian Maritimes. Nicolar clearly links the “very dense fog” with the presence of “men on the sea” from the east. Penobscot retellings of stories about this unusual “fog” may have been prompted by the 1883 eruption of the Krakatau volcano in Indonesia which also spread debris worldwide, darkening skies over vast areas and altering the climate. 3  Throughout this episode, Nicolar may be drawing on a contemporary Penobscot belief that the sighting of a white animal portended bad luck. According to Speck in “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs,” 24, “For a hunter to see a white beaver, otter, or mink is a sign of bad luck, but if the animal can be killed it will bring good luck.” 4  In 1807, a giant fireball exploded over Connecticut, an explosion visible for miles and from which several smaller meteorites rained down. Stories about this event still circulated when Nicolar was a boy and may have prompted retellings of more ancient tribal stories about other, earlier meteor events. 5  In an e-mail dated December 8, 2004, the anthropologist Dean Snow speculated to me that “Nicolar could have been referring to either chert or Kineo felsite, both of which were available and heavily used. . . . [although] at the time of his writing the manufacture and use of chipped stone tools had been given up for perhaps two centuries.” In an e-mail dated December 7, 2004, the historian Pauleena MacDougall noted that the Penobscots “used cherts, felsite, quartzite—other stone as available. . . . [for] flintknapping.” But she adds that “this was an art lost in the seventeenth century when steel came along from Europe. Nicolar was an educated man and probably read about archeology in the region.” 6  Although there is no hard archeological evidence for the presence of Basque fishing expeditions from northern Spain along the Maine coast, there is clear evidence of Basque presence in Newfoundland “as early as 1450” (Fagan, The Little Ice Age, 77). From there, according to Fagan, the Basques “probably dropped southward along the Labrador coast . . . soon afterward.” By the time John Cabot explored the coasts of North America in 1497, he sighted many “Basque fishing vessels” along the Grand Banks of Nova Scotia (77). By the early seventeenth century, several Basque words had entered the Micmac language, suggesting significant contact with at least some Wabanaki tribes. 7  Native fighting practices were significantly altered by the acquisition of European iron and steel axes, knives, and sword blades during the early years of the fur trade. Soon enough, guns too became trade items. By 1637 Boston traders were supplying New England tribes with firearms and ammunition; and by 1651, the French were doing the same in northern New England and Quebec.

206 N ot e s to C h a pt er Five By about 1640, the Mohawk had also obtained guns, first from the English and then from the Dutch. Nicolar’s emphasis, however, is on traditional precontact weaponry and on traditional (sometimes shamanistic) fighting tactics. 8  See Eckstorm, Indian Place Names of the Penobscot Valley and the Maine Coast, 43–44. The confluence of the name of the heroic young man who serves his people as a guardian with a specific place name suggests the symbolic conflation of both person and place as guardians or defenders. Conceivably, the island may once have served as a defensive site. And the singular “distinction” received by the two heroic young men is that their deeds are memorialized in and as specific geographical sites. This conflated naming device also underscores the Penobscot belief in the personhood—or being-ness—of the physical landscape. 9  According to Eckstorm, Mundoouscootook (or Munduscoottook), the old “Indian” name for Eastern River, literally translates as “river where the EvilSpirit’s-rush grows.” She further explains that “presumably the rush meant is Typha angustifolia,” common to southern Maine and found “mainly near the coast.” A kind of cattail, it “figures in certain Indian myths as having magical powers when used against an enemy” (Indian Place Names of the Penobscot Valley and the Maine Coast, 143). Clearly, the heroic young shaman-warrior is being identified with a specific place that supplies an instrument for his protective powers; see also n.8 above. 10  See Eckstorm, Indian Place Names of the Penobscot Valley and the Maine Coast, 105–8. Nicolar is probably referring to the Damariscotta River, “a salt river from the sea to the oyster beds in Newcastle,” although Eckstorm also notes that “the name Damariscotta was applied to the very mouth of the tideway” (106). Mounds of discarded clam and oyster shells once littered the entire area. 11  In these passages, Nicolar appears to be attempting to correlate indigenous stories about the splitting-off of bands and families in order to explore and move to new territories with contemporary anthropological theories about transcontinental Paleoindian migrations from north to south and from east to west. There is no question that Nicolar followed newspaper and magazine accounts about the latest theories and research regarding the origins and history of Native peoples, even if he often disagreed with their conclusions. In fact, the peopling of North America was a much longer and more complex process than late-nineteenth-century archeologists and anthropologists understood. For an overview, see Fagan, The Great Journey. 12  Nicolar’s is the only mention of such a person in any extant (oral or written) traditional Penobscot literature; the name is not found in any early European sources, either. Therefore, it is impossible to determine whether Nicolar is referring to a specific individual still known to and named by the storytellers from whom he gathered his materials, or whether this is a composite figure who represents a conflation of several different ancient war leaders. In an email dated April 12, 2006, Conor McDonough Quinn notes that Nicolar’s “Warhar-weh” sounds like both “wáhawe,” a kind of thrush, and “wàhәwe,” meaning



N ot e s t o C h a pt e r Fiv e

207

“ceremonial runner or town crier.” He notes also an old “verbal stem” in the name suggesting a man who is “rich, powerful, or intelligent.” 13  See Eckstorm, Indian Place Names of the Penobscot Valley and the Maine Coast, 142–43. Eckstorm challenges Nicolar’s translation, insisting the word means “ ‘long, quiet water,’ in reference to the long stretch without falls or rapids below Augusta,” Maine (142). In Abenaki Indian Legends, Grammar and Place Names, 86, Henry Lorne Masta explains the etymology of a similarly named river (the Quinebaug River in Union, Connecticut) as follows: “Prefix ‘Kwni’ means long. Suffix ‘Bawk’ means pond or stream.” Nicolar’s translation may not be entirely wrong, however, since most blades—whether a knife blade or a blade of grass—also possess the characteristics of length and uninterrupted smoothness (like untroubled waters). In other words, by Nicolar’s day, the root bek may have had several layered meanings beyond simply “quiet, or still, water” (Eckstorm, Indian Place Names of the Penobscot Valley and the Maine Coast, 142). 14  Again, this may be an actual historical personage or a composite figure. In an April 12, 2006, e-mail, Conor McDonough Quinn reports the following: Andrew Dana dictated to Frank Siebert a text on the topic of this very person, named nékwtahtawet. In it the eponymous hero is described as the seventh child, who had supernatural powers even as a child, and was the size of a mature man even before reaching age fifteen, such that he was counted together with the other village shamans whenever the councillors assembled. The story goes on to see him meet a military representative of . . . the revolutionary American states, and agree to throw his people’s ­support in with them. He receives a gleaming new coat with glittering medals. . . . After a rather hilarious interlude describing the Native soldiers’ experiences at the war camp, there is a battle, in which nékwtahtawet plays a pivotal role by felling opposing soldiers with his shamanic war-scream, and then comes a second episode in which he and four fellow shamans transform into wolves and go rescue the revolutionary military representative, who was captured by the English . . . in the battle. Unfortunately, much of the late Frank Siebert’s materials remain untranscribed and/or unpublished at this time, including the story related above. Chief Joseph Orono was the Penobscot leader who, in 1775, first allied his people with the rebelling Americans. In subsequent years, several different Penobscot war leaders participated heroically in a number of Revolutionary War battles. Nicolar’s text, however, suggests events that predate the Revolutionary War. Thus, his Nequ-tar-tar-wet could well be a composite of several actual war leaders with shamanic powers. It is also possible that, over time, several different heroic shaman-warriors were given this honorific title.

208 N ot e s to C h a pt er six * Chapter VI * 1  William N. Fenton and Elisabeth Tooker state in “Mohawk” that “the homeland of the Mohawks . . . was a section of the middle Mohawk [River] Valley extending from Schoharie Creek a little west of Amsterdam upriver to East Canada Creek, a few miles east of Little Falls. . . . Their hunting territories extended north into the Adirondack Mountains and south down the East Branch of the Susquehanna nearly to Oneonta [in upstate New York]. Thus, the lands of the Mohawks lay athwart the principal route between the Hudson River and the Upper Iroquois” (466). 2  It is unclear why Nicolar links the name for the Mohawk with “May-May,” his name for the pileated woodpecker in earlier chapters. Is this perhaps an example of folk etymology? In an August 12, 2005, e-mail, Conor McDonough Quinn noted the sound resemblance between the Penobscot word for the pileated woodpecker, mème, and the Penobscot word for Mohawk, mèkwe. Quinn suggests that “the parallels between these two terms” may well increase “the motivation a native speaker might have to relate the two.” Quinn added that mèkwe “is said by some to mean ‘groaner,’ ” thereby denoting the unintelligibility of the Mohawks’ Iroquoian language “to Algonquian speakers.” 3  Although in the previous chapter Nicolar seemed to be describing hostilities between peoples who were once united—presumably Algonquian-speaking peoples—here for the first time he identifies the enemy group as Mohawks, an Iroquoian-speaking people. Nicolar appears to have conflated inter-tribal hostilities between Algonquian-speaking peoples with both pre- and postcontact wars between Algonquian groups and the Mohawks. He was thus giving voice to popular nineteenth-century theories that Iroquoians had once inhabited the Saint Lawrence River Valley, alongside Algonquian groups, and that the Iroquoians “had retreated south to become the Mohawk or westward to become one or more of the historic Huron tribes” (Trigger and Pendergast, “Saint Lawrence Iroquoians,” 359). While there is persuasive evidence for the presence of Iroquoians in the Saint Lawrence in the early decades of the sixteenth century, “by the time the next records concerning the indigenous inhabitants of this region become available, in 1603, the Saint Lawrence Iroquoians had vanished” (Trigger and Pendergast, 357). In trying to answer the question of “what happened to the Saint Lawrence Iroquoians,” the ethnohistorians Bruce G. Trigger and James F. Pendergast note that “various Indian traditions haphazardly recorded by the French in the seventeenth century suggest alternatively that they were attacked and annihilated or dispersed by the Huron, Algonquians, or Iroquois” (360). Nicolar surely knew and was making use of these indigenous traditions. 4  In an e-mail dated October 4, 2004, Pauleena MacDougall wrote that “mkwahs refers to the color red or red paint or red ochre. Apem is a root meaning lake, and cook is the locative ending meaning place. It sounds like a lake where there is red sand or clay along the beach.” In an e-mail dated August 31, 2004, Micmac storyteller and craftsworker Michael Running Wolf wondered if



N o te s t o C h a p te r six

209

Nicolar might be referring to “Chemquassabemticook . . . a lake in northwestern Maine. It means plenty fish run in it.” In an August 15, 2005, e-mail, Conor McDonough Quinn translates it simply as “at the lake-river” but admits “I can’t for the life of me find it on any map.” In that same e-mail, Quinn speculates “that this might be the name of a river associated with Lake Champlain. The other clue, of course, is that its shores are a point of contact with one of the first groups of Europeans, which suggests that it is not far inland.” Members of the Penobscot Nation whom I queried did not recognize the river’s name either, and Arnie Neptune suggested it might be an old name that had gone out of usage and been replaced with some other name. In discussing the matter with Gabe Paul in June 2005, I wondered if this might be an old name for the Saint Lawrence, a river that leads to the Great Lakes, and where French exploration and colonization began in the 1530s; Gabe responded that a very old meaning for the root mak could pertain both to the Mohawks and to this river, thus further underscoring indigenous traditions about the presence of Iroquoians in the Saint Lawrence River valley during precontact times. Subsequent references to Ma-quozz-bem-to-cook in chapter six make this identification highly plausible. Moreover, French Canadians still often refer to the Saint Lawrence as “the Great Lakes waterway.” 5  Nicolar’s use of the phrase “their own people” suggests his own nineteenthcentury pan-Indian consciousness, by which all Native peoples are one people. Because he situates these “raids” as clearly postcontact—and soon after contact—he could be referring to either (or both) the Micmac raids into the southern corn-growing tribal areas of Maine, known as the Tarrantine Wars, or to incursions by the Mohawks. As Fenton and Tooker point out, “because they were the easternmost of the Iroquois tribes, the Mohawk were the first to feel the impact of European activities along the eastern seaboard. At the end of the sixteenth century the Mohawk were at war with the Algonquin and Montagnais [both northeastern Algonquian-speaking tribes] who were trading with the French at Tadoussac [at the confluence of the Saguenay and Saint Lawrence rivers]. . . . In the early 1640s the Mohawk obtained guns, first from the English and then in large numbers from the Dutch. . . . Taking advantage of their new firepower, the Mohawk increasingly harassed the French, their Algonquian allies, and the Huron who came to the Saint Lawrence valley to trade” (“Mohawk,” 467–68). All these inter-tribal hostilities derived directly from competition over control of the fur trade with the European powers. 6  Due to Nicolar’s odd spelling of Ko-chi-koke, part of the word may refer either to gum, pitch, or resin, hence “a great gum river,” or to woods or forest. In an e-mail dated April 26, 2006, Conor McDonough Quinn notes that “kčihkok . . . in Passamaquoddy-Maliseet means ‘in the woods, in the forest.’ ” The ambiguity allows for several possibilities as to the location of this river. In Indian Place Names of the Penobscot Valley and the Maine Coast, 16, Eckstorm reads the place name Ko-chis’-uk, “eel weir place,” as a cognate with the Maliseet place name “Kat-esok-uk” and identifies both forms as “an unidentified locality on Passadumkeag Stream where they caught eels.” If Eckstorm is accurate, this suggests that Nicolar was claiming that most of the Maine tribes

210 N ot e s t o C h a pt er six north of Passadumkeag (once a major Penobscot village on the Penobscot River) joined in the “federation.” Such an assertion is historically plausible since not all the Penobscot villages chose to align themselves with the French against the British. Several villages remained resolutely neutral, especially those to the south, closest to English settlements. In Abenaki Indian Legends, Grammar and Place Names, 81–82, Masta identifies the Coaticook River as a river that “rises in the state of Vermont” and runs northeast into the St. Francis River in Quebec. In his etymological breakdown, “ ‘Koa’ means Pine, Suffix ‘tekw’ means river” and thus “Coaticook” derives “from Koatekwog meaning to the Pine River.” Because several Algonquianspeaking villages to the west of Maine (in what are now Vermont and New Hampshire) were also involved in the original Wabanaki Confederacy, the Mohawk Wars, and, later, the larger federation of Catholic Indians allied with the French, a river in Vermont is also a historically plausible location for one of the boundaries of those involved in the “federation . . . by all the north.” Few of these more western villages survived the colonial wars as intact tribes; many of the survivors fled to Canada. Today, they are collectively referred to as Abenaki or as Western Abenaki (a French variant of Wabanaki). For further information, see Gordon M. Day, “Western Abenaki,” 148–59. 7  According to Philip K. Bock in “Micmac,” “during the sixteenth century, they occupied the region south and west of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence: the Maritime Provinces plus the Gaspé Peninsula” (109). 8  A Central Algonquian–speaking people, the Ottawas claim the territory north of the Great Lakes as their traditional homeland; from there they gradually migrated to the Georgian Bay region. In the seventeenth century, they controlled trade with the French on the Ottawa River in Canada, but were eventually driven out by the Iroquois and the Sioux. 9  In an April 26, 2006 e-mail, Conor McDonough Quinn notes that “there is quite a bit of mention of ledges in Penobscot literature with regard to rivers; in fact, as I understand it, ‘ledge’ refers not just to an overhang of rock, but also to any substantial stretch of rock outcropping in the river or stream itself— obviously a matter of great concern to a canoeing people.” In fact, there were once prominent rock outcroppings in the area of Tadoussac. In Abenaki Indian Legends, Grammar and Place Names, 99, Masta offers another etymology: “TADOUSAC from Todosak meaning They pass or are passing by. The Indians usually stopped at Tadousac to sell their pelts, but some passed by going to Three Rivers,” or Trois Rivières, another major French trading post on the Saint Lawrence. 10  Information about earthquakes predating sixteenth-century contacts exists only in fragmentary form in Native traditions and is undatable. Documentary reports by Europeans describing earthquakes in North America in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries are sparse and often unreliable. But with significantly increased European populations in Maine and the Canadian Atlantic provinces from the second half of the seventeenth century through the eighteenth century, incidents of earthquakes were more likely to be recorded. For example, a strong earthquake in the Saint Lawrence Valley region near Trois



N o te s t o C h a p te r six

211

Rivières, Quebec, was recorded on June 11, 1638 and felt throughout the French settlements in Canada as well as the English settlements in New England. An even more powerful event—with aftershocks continuing for six months—began on February 5, 1663, with a “presumed epicenter about half-way between Montreal and Quebec, on a tributary of the St. Lawrence.” It “was widely felt over much of northeastern America, from Montreal to Boston” (Kovach, Early Earthquakes of the Americas 20, 170). As later described by Jerome Lalemant (1593–1673), a Jesuit missionary to the Hurons, the quake was “universal in all of New France, . . . felt at Isle Percée and Gaspé, at the mouth of our [Saint Lawrence] river, and beyond Montreal, as well as in New England, Acadia, and other distant places” (Lalemant, “The Earthquake,” 180). Even allowing for a certain amount of embellishment from a European who had never previously experienced an earthquake, without question, Lalemant’s description of the 1663 event corroborates Nicolar’s description of the opening of a chasm and the “eruption of the earth.” As Lalemant remembered it, in addition to the devastation in Montreal, “there seemed to be a war among the mountains as well, where some uprooted themselves to fall upon the others, leaving great abysses in the places from which they had leapt” (Lalemant, 179). Even so, neither the 1638 nor the 1663 earthquake coincided with any permanent (or even temporary) peace between warring tribes. Indeed, by 1637, many eastern Algonquian tribes were getting their first firearms from Boston traders. And by 1660, the Mohawk had resumed their attacks in Maine, hitting the Penobscot two years later. Known earthquake events in the eighteenth century also do not readily appear to coincide with the ending of “all the wars among the red people” as described in this chapter—although the most notable of the recorded eighteenth-century quakes does roughly correspond to what is believed to be the period in which the Penobscot were drawn into the alliance centered at the Great Fire of Caughnawaga. With an epicenter offshore from Cape Ann, Massachusetts, and its tremors felt throughout southern Maine, the powerful earthquake of November 18, 1755, is nonetheless an equivocal candidate for the event described by Nicolar. It did follow upon a treaty of peace between several Algonquian tribes and the British, signed at Albany, New York in August, 1754. But only a few months later, the opening shots of what was to become the French and Indian War (1755–63) were fired in western Pennsylvania. By the date of the last major earthquake of the eighteenth century—December 6, 1791, less violent than the 1663 quake but covering generally the same area— the Revolutionary War fighting was long over. So again, this cannot be the event described by Nicolar. Thus, the calamitous earthquake that supposedly “ended all the wars among the red people” probably had real world antecedents; but we cannot yet link any specific and long-term cessation of intertribal warfare with a known event of that magnitude. We need to understand that Nicolar was revising and weaving together several different stories and traditions in order to forge a morality tale about the dangers of unbridled human power, the natural phenomena that can restrain that power, and the imperative for peace and cooperation “for the general good.” Earthquakes undoubtedly had intervened in Native warfare over the centuries,

212 N ot e t o C o ncl usion and their potential for devastation was well known, the stuff of many legends as well as lived experience. An earthquake, therefore, became a powerful symbolic punctuation point for his closing chapter. In that earthquake-prone land, his readers knew firsthand what Nicolar was describing. 11  During the first half of the seventeenth century, the Mohawks are known to have successively inhabited two different villages near the Mohawk River in upstate New York, both named Caughnawaga (from kahnawā-ke, meaning at the rapids). According to Fenton and Tooker, the same name was “also given to the settlement which was established on the Saint Lawrence in 1676 by the Mohawks, many of whom came from the Mohawk Valley Caughnawaga” (“Mohawk,” 467). Fenton and Tooker further note, 470, that the Saint Lawrence Mohawks at Caughnawaga “initially tried to remain neutral as relations between the French and the [Iroquois] Confederacy became increasingly strained in the 1680s,” but having converted to Catholicism, they were eventually “drawn into the conflict on the French side.” This probably explains why the Mohawk village at Caughnawaga was chosen as the site of the grand council fire. In recognition of the Mohawks’ traditional role as the keepers of the eastern door of the Iroquois Confederacy—and hence the keepers of that council fire—the victorious Algonquian tribes allowed themselves to be drawn into an alliance with the Iroquois Confederacy through a group of Mohawks who had themselves been allied with the French. The Mohawks thus continue their traditional role as the keepers of the Iroquois League’s eastern door council fire, only now that council fire also includes Algonquian tribes to whom the Mohawks are obligated.

* Conclusion * 1  Maine has no hot springs, only cold springs. The state was once known for its natural springs, several of which were thought to produce water with medicinal properties. Probably the most famous of these was Poland Springs (a mineral water spring), around which a resort was constructed in the nineteenth century. Nicolar appears to be referring to a spring in the Portland area, however, when he says it belongs to “a white man, of the town of Deering, Maine.” In the nineteenth century, the wealthy Deering family owned considerable property in and around the port town of Portland. Following a devastating fire in Portland in 1861, railroad magnate John Deering deeded a portion of his landholdings to be incorporated into what then became the city of Portland. There was probably a spring on the Deering properties, and, as was the custom of the time, those properties probably were named after their owners—hence, Nicolar’s reference to “the town of Deering, Maine.” The town of Deering no longer exists, but many sites and parks in the Portland area still bear the name of Deering.

Afterword

The republication of this book marks a significant milestone for the Penobscot Nation. It epitomizes the cyclic process of history. As a Penobscot person, Joseph Nicolar took control of how his tribe was represented through the written word. Today, the Penobscot Nation again seeks to take control of how we are presented to the public. We work with scholars and researchers, both Native and non-Native, to ensure that the errors and distortions of the past are not perpetuated. After several months of telephone and written communications with several tribal members, including Chief of the Penobscot Nation, James Sappier, in June 2005 Annette Kolodny came to Indian Island and approached the tribe about republishing The Life and Traditions of the Red Man. Professor Kolodny asked to meet with members of the Nicolar family. In keeping with Penobscot tradition, we supported that request because we view a scholar’s consultation with the family as part of the appropriate protocol for this type of project. In our view, it was necessary for Nicolar family members to consider whether or not republication of The Life and Traditions of the Red Man was in the best interests of the family and tribe. Not everyone agreed that this book should be republished. There were many issues to consider. First of all, Professor Kolodny was unknown to most people in our community. Could we in good conscience support a stranger republishing the work of a tribal member? Could we trust her to represent the tribe appropriately and convey the spirit of the Penobscot people accurately through her writing? All of these questions had to be addressed and a certain level of trust had to be earned by Professor Kolodny before any kind of collaborative project could move forward. These concerns arise from the fact that many publications about Native American tribes occur without consultation with the appropriate tribe. As a result, Native Americans have been repeatedly misunderstood and misrepresented in the works of many scholars. Would Professor Kolodny choose to move forward without our endorsement of and/or participation in the project? If we chose not to participate, what kind of product would be produced? In the end, all these questions were resolved through months of careful and mutually respectful consultation and cooperation. Professor Kolodny sent drafts of her introductory materials to family members and to the Penobscot Nation’s Department of Cultural and Historic Preservation. We reviewed her materials and gave her feedback and comment, most of which she was able to incorporate into her subsequent drafts. This process began in June 2005, when Professor Kolodny first visited Indian Island. After a series of meetings and a thorough consideration of all these

214 A f t e rwo rd issues, Charles Norman Shay, Joseph Nicolar’s grandson, determined that republication of the book was important at this time. We, as a tribal government, honored his decision. However, the family and tribe made certain specific requests. Charles Norman Shay asked if a history of the Penobscot Nation might be included in the republication. The most important request from the tribe, however, was for the inclusion of a contemporary Penobscot voice. Professor Kolodny welcomed both suggestions. For the tribe to endorse the republication of Nicolar’s book, the tribal voice must be a prominent part of the product. In our view, the most logical and qualified individual to be that voice was Charles Norman Shay. Charles Norman Shay’s contribution to this project represents true indigenous scholarship. It is as valuable to us as Nicolar’s original book. Charles Norman Shay’s preface represents more than the contextual information it presents. It represents a rebirth of Joseph Nicolar’s commitment to take control of how the Penobscot people are presented publicly. Finally, one question remains unanswered: what would Joseph Nicolar have wanted? Would he have been satisfied with a non-tribal member taking the lead on republication? If he were alive today, would he republish his book himself in light of the tribe’s current political, cultural, social, and economic status? Nicolar’s grandson, Charles Norman Shay, suspects he would, because, in Shay’s opinion, “authors produce their material for the widest dissemination to readers and scholars and in this way make the public aware of other cultures.” That said, we will never definitively know if Joseph Nicolar would have approved of this republishing of The Life and Traditions of the Red Man. However, through the Penobscot Nation’s endorsement of this republication, we want to make clear how highly we value his contribution to the literary world. We hope this republication will prove an inspiration for other tribal members to continue his legacy of indigenous scholarship and self-representation. We wish to thank Professor Kolodny for her extensive research, her cooperation with us, and for her efforts to get this important book back into print. We wish to thank Duke University Press for taking up the project.

B onnie D. Newso m , Director, Cultural and Historic Preservation, Penobscot Nation, Indian Island, Maine February 6th, 2006

Works Consulted and Recommendations for Further Reading

Alger, Abby Langdon. In Indian Tents: Stories Told by Penobscot, Passamaquoddy and Micmac Indians. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1897. American Friends Service Committee. The Wabanakis of Maine and the Maritimes: A Resource Book about Penobscot, Passamaquoddy, Maliseet, Micmac, and Abenaki Indians. Bath: Maine Indian Program of the New England Regional Office of the American Friends Service Committee, 1989. Axtell, James. The Invasion Within: The Contest of Cultures in Colonial North America. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985. Bailey, Charles A. Report of the Agent of the Penobscot Tribe of Indians, for the Year 1883. Augusta: Sprague and Son, 1883. Baxter, James Phinney, ed. The Baxter Manuscripts. Collections of the Maine Historical Society, 2nd series, vols. 1–9. Portland: Maine Historical Society, 1889–1916. Bernasconi, Robert. “Introduction.” American Theories of Polygenesis. 7 vols. Bristol: Thoemmes, 2002.1: v–xiii. Bisulca, Paul. “Penobscot: A People and Their River.” Penobscot Indian Nation Homepage. 2001. Penobscot Indian Nation. 29 August 2005. http://www. penobscotnation.org/articles/bisulca.htm. Bock, Philip K. “Micmac.” Handbook of North American Indians: The Northeast. Ed. Bruce G. Trigger. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1978. 109–36. Vol. 15 of Handbook of North American Indians. 17 vols. to date. 1978– . Bourque, Bruce J. Twelve Thousand Years: American Indians in Maine. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2001. Brain, Jeffrey P. The Popham Colony. Salem, Mass.: Peabody Essex Museum, 2000. Brodeur, Paul. Restitution: The Land Claims of the Mashpee, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscot Indians of New England. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1985. Bruchac, Joseph. The Wind Eagle and Other Abenaki Stories. Greenfield Center, New York: Bowman Books, 1985. Burroughs, William J. Climate Change in Prehistory: The End of the Reign of Chaos. New York and Cambridge,: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Calloway, Colin G. The Abenaki. New York: Chelsea House, 1989. ———. The American Revolution in Indian Country: Crisis and Diversity in Native American Communities. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995.

216 Wo rk s C o n s ult e d a n d Rec ommended ———. Dawnland Encounters: Indians and Europeans in Northern New England. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1991. Chaveree, Mark A. “Tribal Sovereignty.” Wabanaki Legal News 2.1 (Winter 1998). December 19, 2005. http://www.ptla.org/ptlasite/wabanaki/ sovereign.htm. Clark, Charles E. The Eastern Frontier: The Settlement of Northern New England, 1610–1763. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1970. Cohen, William. “The Penobscot and Passamaquoddy Land Claim in Maine.” Congressional Record. March 1, 1977. Cronon, William. Changes in the Land: Indians, Colonists, and the Ecology of New England. New York: Hill and Wang, 1983. Cusick, David. David Cusick’s Sketches of Ancient History of the Six Nations. 1826. 3rd ed. Lockport, New York: Turner and McCollum, 1848. Day, Gordon M. “Western Abenaki.” Handbook of North American Indians: The Northeast. Ed. Bruce G. Trigger. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1978. 148–59. Vol. 15 of Handbook of North American Indians. 17 vols. to date. 1978– . Dickason, Olive Patricia. Canada’s First Nations: A History of Founding Peoples from Earliest Times. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1992. Dobyns, Henry F. Their Number Become Thinned: Native American Population Dynamics in Eastern North America. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, in cooperation with the Newberry Library Center for the History of the American Indian, 1983. Eckstorm, Fannie H. Indian Place Names of the Penobscot Valley and the Maine Coast. 1941. Maine Studies 55. Orono: University of Maine Press, 1974. ———. Old John Neptune and Other Maine Indian Shamans. Portland: Southworth-Anthoensen Press, 1945. Edgecomb, Misty. “A River Reborn: ‘Win–Win’ Agreement Could Lead to Removal of Two Dams on the Penobscot, and Restoration of Fish Runs and Nature’s Balance.” Bangor Daily News, October 7, 2003. Etienne, Mona, and Eleanor Leacock, eds. Women and Colonization: Anthropological Perspectives. New York: Praeger, 1980. Fagan, Brian M. The Great Journey: The Peopling of Ancient America. Rev. ed. Gainesville and Tallahassee: University Press of Florida, 2003. ———. The Little Ice Age: How Climate Made History, 1300–1850. New York: Basic Books, 2000. Fenton, William N., and Elisabeth Tooker. “Mohawk.” Handbook of North American Indians: The Northeast. Ed. Bruce G. Trigger. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1978. 466–80. Vol. 15 of Handbook of North American Indians. 17 vols. to date. 1978– . Ghere, David L. “Diplomacy and War on the Maine Frontier, 1678–1759.” Maine: The Pine Tree State from Prehistory to the Present. Eds. Richard W. Judd, Edwin A. Churchill, and Joel W. Eastman. Orono: University of Maine Press, 1995. 120–42. Goddard, Ives. “Frank T. Siebert, Jr. (1912–1998)” Anthropological Linguistics 40.3 (1998): 481–94.



Wo rk s C o n s u lte d a n d Re commended

217

Graettinger, Diana. “Indian Tribes Urge Baldacci to Respect Their Sovereignty.” Bangor Daily News, April 25, 2003. Handbook of North American Indians. Gen. ed. William C. Sturtevant. 20 vols. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1970–78. Hearings of the Select Committee on Indian Affairs. U.S. Senate, 96th Congress, Second Session, on S.2829. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1980. Hoskins, Samuel W., and Joseph Nicolar. Reports of the Agent and the Superintendent of Farming of the Penobscot Tribe of Indians. Augusta: Sprague, Owen and Nash, 1879. Hunt, George H. Report of the Agent of the Penobscot Tribe of Indians for the Year 1894. Augusta: Burleigh and Flint, 1894. Josselyn, John. John Josselyn, Colonial Traveler: A Critical Edition of “Two Voyages to New-England.” Ed. Paul J. Lindholdt. Hanover, N.H., and London: University Press of New England, 1988. Judd, Richard W., Edwin A. Churchill, and Joel W. Eastman, eds. Maine: The Pine Tree State from Prehistory to the Present. Orono: University of Maine Press, 1995. Kolodny, Annette. In Search of First Contact: The Peoples of the Dawnland and the Vikings of Vinland. Durham: Duke University Press, forthcoming, 2008. Kovach, Robert L. Early Earthquakes of the Americas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Krupat, Arnold. Red Matters: Native American Studies. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002. Lalemant, Jerome. “The Earthquake.” Trans. Susan Castillo. The Literatures of Colonial America: An Anthology. Eds. Susan Castillo and Ivy Schweitzer. Oxford and Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2001. 179–81. Leacock, Eleanor Burke. Myths of Male Dominance: Collected Articles on Women Cross-Culturally. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1981. Leamon, James S. Revolution Downeast: The War for American Independence in Maine. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1993. Leland, Charles Godfrey. The Algonquin Legends of New England, or, Myths and Folk Lore of the Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscot Tribes. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, 1884. Litwicki, Ellen M. America’s Public Holidays, 1865–1920. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2000. MacDougall, Pauleena. The Penobscot Dance of Resistance: Tradition in the History of a People. Durham: University of New Hampshire Press; Hanover: University Press of New England, 2004. ———. “Weaving a Tradition: Women Basket Makers in Penobscot Culture.” Of Place and Gender: Women in Maine History. Ed. Marli F. Weiner. Orono: University of Maine Press, 2005. 325–44. Mallery, Garrick. “Pictographs of the North American Indians: A Preliminary Paper.” Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1882–’83. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1886. 13–256. ———. “Picture-Writing of the American Indians.” Tenth Annual Report of

218 Wo rk s C o n s ult e d a n d Rec ommended the Bureau of Ethnology, 1888-’89. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1893. 6–822. Masta, Henry Lorne. Abenaki Indian Legends, Grammar and Place Names. Victoriaville, Quebec: La Voix des Bois-Francs, 1932. Mayor, Adrienne. Fossil Legends of the First Americans. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005. McBride, Bunny. “Princess Watahwaso: Bright Star of the Penobscot.” Of Place and Gender: Women in Maine History. Ed. Marli F. Weiner. Orono: University of Maine Press, 2005. 89–132. ———. Women of the Dawn. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1999. Moody, John. Preface. The Wind Eagle and Other Abenaki Stories. By Joseph Bruchac. Greenfield Center, New York: Bowman Books, 1985. i–iii. Morrison, Kenneth M. The Embattled Northeast: The Elusive Ideal of Alliance in Abenaki-Euramerican Relations. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984. Nicolar, Joseph. The Life and Traditions of the Red Man. Bangor: C. H. Glass, 1893. Facsimile reprint. with Introduction by James D. Wherry. Fredericton, New Brunswick: Saint Annes Point Press, 1979. Prince, John Dyneley. Passamaquoddy Texts. New York: G. E. Stechert and Company, 1921. Prins, Harald E. L. “The Crooked Path of Dummer’s Treaty: Anglo-Wabanaki Diplomacy and the Quest for Aboriginal Rights.” Papers of the Thirty-Third Algonquian Conference. Ed. H. C. Wolfart. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba, 2002. 360–77. ———. The Mi’kmaq: Resistance, Accommodation, and Cultural Survival. Fort Worth: Harcourt Brace College Publishers, 1996. ———. “Turmoil on the Wabanaki Frontier, 1524–1678.” Maine: The Pine Tree State from Prehistory to the Present. Eds. Richard W. Judd, Edwin A. Churchill, and Joel W. Eastman. Orono: University of Maine Press, 1995. 97–119. Pritchard, Evan T. No Word for Time: The Way of the Algonquin People. Tulsa: Council Bluff Books, 1997. Prucha, Francis Paul. American Indian Policy in the Formative Years: The Indian Trade and Intercourse Acts, 1780–1834. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1962. Quinn, Conor. “A Preliminary Survey of Animacy Categories in Penobscot.” Actes du Trente-Deuxième Congrès des Algonquinistes. Ed. John D. Nichols. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba, 2001. 395–426. Rand, Silas Tertius. Legends of the Micmacs. New York and London: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1894. Rogin, Michael Paul. Fathers and Children: Andrew Jackson and the Subjugation of the American Indian. New York: Knopf, 1975; reprint., New Brunswick, New York, and London: Transaction, 1991. Rolde, Neil. Unsettled Past, Unsettled Future: The Story of Maine Indians. Gardiner, Maine: Tilbury House, 2004. Running Wolf, Michael, and Patricia Clark Smith. On the Trail of Elder Brother: Glous’gap Stories of the Micmac Indians. New York: Persea, 2000.



Wo rk s C o n s u lte d a n d Re commended

219

Sappier, James. “Tribes and Tribal Governments.” Unpublished. address to the Conference on the Role of Jurisdiction in the Quest of Sovereignty, New England Law Review, Radisson Hotel, Boston. October 25, 2002. Sarris, Greg. Keeping Slug Woman Alive: A Holistic Approach to American Indian Texts. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993. Shay, Florence Nicola. History of the Penobscot Tribe of Indians. 1942. Reprint ed. Indian Island, Maine: Penobscot Nation Museum, 1998. Siebert, Frank T., Jr. “Mammoth or ‘Stiff-Legged Bear.’ ” American Anthropologist 39 (1937): 721–25. ———. “The Original Home of the Proto-Algonquian People.” Contributions to Anthropology: Linguistics I (Algonquian). Anthropological Series 78. National Museum of Canada Bulletin 214. Ottawa: Department of the Secretary of State, 1967. 13–47. ———. “The Penobscot Dictionary Project: Preferences and Problems of Format, Presentation, and Entry.” Papers of the Eleventh Algonquian Conference. Ed. William Cowan. Ottawa: Carleton University, 1980. 113–27. Simmons, William S. Spirit of the New England Tribes: Indian History and Folklore. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1986. Smith, Nicholas N. “Between the Lines: Notes and Insights from Forty-eight Years among the Wabanaki.” Papers of the Thirty-First Algonquian Conference. Ed. John D. Nichols. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba, 2000. 367–80. Snow, Dean. The Archaeology of New England. New York and London: Academic Press, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980. ———. “Eastern Abenaki.” Handbook of North American Indians: The Northeast. Ed. Bruce G. Trigger. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1978. 137–47. Vol. 15 of Handbook of North American Indians. 17 vols. to date. 1978– . ———. “Northeast Late Woodland.” Encyclopedia of Prehistory. 9 vols. Eds. Peter N. Peregrine and Melvin Ember. New York and Boston: Kluwer, Plenum, 2001. 6: 339–57. Speck, Frank G. “The Eastern Algonkian Wabanaki Confederacy.” American Anthropologist 17.3 (1915): 492–508. ———. Penobscot Man: The Life History of a Forest Tribe in Maine. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1940. ———. “Penobscot Shamanism.” Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association 6.4 (1919): 237–88. ———. “Penobscot Tales and Religious Beliefs.” Journal of American Folklore 48.187 (January–March 1935): 1–107. Stanton, William. The Leopard’s Spots: Scientific Attitudes toward Race in America, 1815–59. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960. Thoreau, Henry David. The Maine Woods. 1864. Penguin Nature Classics. New York: Penguin, 1988. Thwaites, Reuben Gold, ed. The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents. 73 Vols. Cleveland: Burrows Brothers Company, 1896–1901. Trigger, Bruce G., and James F. Pendergast. “Saint Lawrence Iroquoians.” Handbook of North American Indians: The Northeast. Ed. Bruce G. Trigger. Wash-

220 Wo rk s C o n s ult e d a n d Rec ommended ington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1978. 357–61. Vol. 15 of Handbook of North American Indians. 17 vols. to date. 1978– . Tuttle, Jeff. “Panel Eyes Changes to Indian Claims Act: State Commission Hoping to Clarify Language Distinguishing Tribes, Municipalities.” Bangor Daily News, April 4, 2003. ———. Panel Ponders Changes to Indian Settlement Act.” Bangor Daily News, April 4, 2003. United States. “Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act of 1980,” vol. 1, 96th Congress, Second Session, LAWS (P.L. 96–420), chap. 19, Title 25, subchap. 2, sec. 1724 and sec. 6212, U.S. Code Congressional and Administrative News, 1980. ———. U.S. Code Congressional and Administrative News, 1980, Maine Indian Claims Settlement, Federal Act, chap. 19, Title 25, subchap. 2, sec. 6212. United States Congress. “An Act to Provide for the Settlement of Land Claims of Indians, Indian Nations, and Tribes and Bands of Indians in the State of Maine, Including the Passamaquoddy Tribe, the Penobscot Nation, and the Houlton Band of Maliseet Indians, and for Other Purposes.” Washington, D.C: Superintendent of Documents, 1980. Vaughan, Alden T. “From White Man to Redskin: Changing Anglo-American Perceptions of the American Indian.” The American Historical Review 87.4 (October 1982): 917–53. Walker, Willard, Robert Conkling, and Gregory Buesing. “A Chronological Account of the Wabanaki Confederacy.” Political Organization of North American Indians. Ed. Ernest L. Schusky. Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1980. 41–84. Wherry, James D. “Introduction.” The Life and Traditions of the Red Man. By Joseph Nicolar. 1893. Fredericton, New Brunswick: Saint Annes Point Press, 1979. ix–xvi. Wiseman, Frederick Matthew. The Voice of the Dawn: An Autohistory of the Abenaki Nation. Hanover, N.H., and London: University Press of New England, 2001.

Illustration Credits

Frontispiece page i  Title page from original 1893 edition. Photograph provided courtesy of Annette Kolodny and Tom Hillard. page x  Charles Norman Shay standing in front of a portrait of his grandfather, Joseph Nicolar. Portrait of Joseph Nicolar painted 2005 by the Penobscot artist, Calvin Francis, also a family member. Photograph by Daniel Peters, June 5, 2005, Indian Island, Maine, and reproduced with his permission and with the permission of Charles Norman Shay. page 25 (top)  Taken sometime in the 1890s, this photograph shows Indian Island on the right and what was then called “Indian Landing” at Old Town, Maine, on the left, separated by the Penobscot River. During what was known as the log drive era, raw timber logs were floated down the Penobscot River to the lumber mills and factories located on the mainland to the south. Members of the Penobscot Nation often found employment in the lumber industry, and a group of four Penobscot men is seen here docking their canoe at Indian Landing. Photographer and date of photograph unknown. Photograph no. 8704 is reproduced here through the courtesy of the Maine Folklife Center, University of Maine, Orono. page 25 (bottom)  The Indian Island school, with a teacher and students, in 1910. Run by the Sisters of Mercy, the schoolhouse had several rooms and taught children through grade six. To the far right of the photograph may be seen factories and their smokestacks, located just across the Penobscot River on the mainland. Photographer unknown. Copy provided by James Neptune, Coordinator, Penobscot Nation Museum. page 26 (top)  Photograph of the sawdust pathway across the frozen ice of the Penobscot River, linking Indian Island to the mainland at Old Town, Maine, in winter. Until the construction of a bridge in 1950, the sawdust pathway served as the only relatively safe link between Indian Island and the mainland when the river was frozen. The white wooden tepee in the center of the photograph was constructed as a gift shop during the 1940s by Joseph Nicolar’s daughter, Lucy Nicolar Poolaw, and her husband, Bruce Poolaw. To the left of the tepee is the Nicolar home as it looked in the 1940s. Somewhat expanded and with a garage added, this is now the home of Joseph Nicolar’s grandson, Charles Norman Shay. To the right of the tepee stands the steeple and the Church of St. Anne. Photographer and date of photograph unknown. Photograph no. 8285 is reproduced here through the courtesy of the Maine Folklife Center, University of Maine, Orono.

222 Illu s t r ati o n Credi ts page 26 (bottom)  Probably taken in 1949, this photograph shows the construction of a single-lane bridge connecting Indian Island to the mainland at Old Town, Maine. The bridge was finally opened in 1950. Because the bridge had not yet been completed when this photograph was taken, Indian Island residents still depended on their only ferry, a fourteen-foot open bateau, pictured here, right foreground. Exact date of photograph and photographer unknown. Copy provided by James Neptune, Coordinator, Penobscot Nation Museum. page 37 (top)  Rear view of the three birch-bark wigwams that comprised the Penobscot Village, part of the “living exhibits” at the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893 in Chicago. Four families from the Penobscot Nation offered regular crafts demonstrations in front of the wigwams. The crafts demonstrations included the production of fine basketwork, moccasins, snowshoes, bows and arrows, and birch-bark canoes. The Penobscot Village exhibit was situated on the border of the south lagoon, close to the Exposition’s intramural railway. Photograph by “the Government Photographer,” name unknown. Copy provided by James Eric Francis, Penobscot Nation Historian. page 90  Studio portrait of Joseph Nicolar published in original 1893 edition. Joseph Nicolar was always elegantly attired when he represented the Penobscot Nation in the Maine State Legislature and when he offered public lectures to non-Native audiences about Indian life and lifeways. Note the fine tie stickpin in the shape of a P (presumably for Penobscot). Date of photograph and photographer unknown. Copy provided by Charles Norman Shay and reproduced with his permission. page 94  Believed to be a studio portrait of Joseph Nicolar taken late in his life. He is wearing a traditional tanned and fringed leather tunic and a traditional Penobscot feather headdress to which a long black wig has been affixed. Nicolar probably wore this or similar attire for pageants or other ceremonies on Indian Island. Date of original photograph and photographer unknown. This copy provided by Nicolar’s grandson, Charles Norman Shay, and reproduced here with his permission.

Joseph Nicolar is deceased. He is the author of the original The Life and Traditions of the Red Man (C. H. Glass and Company, 1893).

Annette Kolodny is the College of Humanities Professor of Ameri-

can ­Literature and Culture at the University of Arizona. She is the author of Failing the Future: A Dean Looks at Higher Education in the TwentyFirst Century (Duke, 1998); The Land before Her: Fantasy and Experience of the American Frontiers (1984); and The Lay of the Land: Metaphor as Experience and History in American Life and Letters (1975). She edited The Blithedale Romance by Nathaniel Hawthorne (1983) and coedited (with William L. Andrews, Sargent Bush, Daniel B. Shea, and Amy S. Lang) Journeys in New Worlds: Early American Women’s Narratives (1990).

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Nicolar, Joseph, 1827–1894. The life and traditions of the Red man / by Joseph Nicolar ; edited, annotated, and with a history of the Penobscot nation and an introduction by Annette Kolodny. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. isbn 978-0-8223-4009-6 (cloth : alk. paper) isbn 978-0-8223-4028-7 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Penobscot mythology.  2. Penobscot Indians—Folklore.  3. Penobscot Indians—Social life and customs.  4. Penobscot Bay Region (Me.)— Folklore.  I. Kolodny, Annette.  II. Title. e99.p5n54  2007 974.1004'9734—dc22  2006036828