The Soul of the Indian
    
    Eastman, Charles Alexander (1911)
      
    VI. ON 
    THE BORDER-LAND OF SPIRITS
    Death and Funeral Customs. The Sacred Lock of Hair. 
    Reincarnation and the Converse of Spirits. Occult and Psychic Powers. The 
    Gift of Prophecy.
    THE attitude of the Indian toward death, the test and 
    background of life, is entirely consistent with his character and 
    philosophy. Death has no terrors for him; he meets it with simplicity and 
    perfect calm, seeking only an honorable end as his last gift to his family 
    and descendants. Therefore, he courts death in battle; on the other hand, he 
    would regard it as disgraceful to be killed in a private quarrel. If one be 
    dying at home, it is customary to carry his bed out of doors as the end 
    approaches, that his spirit may pass under the open sky. 
    Next to this, the matter that concerns him most is the 
    parting with his dear ones, especially if he have any little children who 
    must be left behind to suffer want. His family affections are strong, and he 
    grieves intensely for the lost, even though he has unbounded faith in a 
    spiritual companionship. 
    The outward signs of mourning for the dead are far more 
    spontaneous and convincing than is the correct and well-ordered black of 
    civilization men and women among us loosen their hair and cut it according 
    to the degree of relationship or of devotion. Consistent with the idea of 
    sacrificing all personal beauty and adornment, they trim off likewise from 
    the dress its fringes and ornaments, perhaps cut it short, or cut the robe 
    or blanket in two. The men blacken their faces, and widows or bereaved 
    parents sometimes gash their arms and legs till they are covered with blood. 
    Giving themselves up wholly to their grief, they are no longer concerned 
    about any earthly possession, and often give away all that they have to the 
    first comers, even to their beds and their home. Finally, the wailing for 
    the dead is continued night and day to the point of utter voicelessness; a 
    musical, weird, and heart-piercing sound, which has been compared to the, 
    "keening" of the Celtic mourner. 
    The old-time burial of the Plains Indians was upon a 
    scaffold of poles, or a platform among the boughs of a tree -- their only 
    means of placing the body out of reach of wild beasts, as they had no 
    implements with which to dig a suitable grave. It was prepared by dressing 
    in the finest clothes, together with some personal possessions and 
    ornaments, wrapped in several robes, and finally in a secure covering of 
    raw-hide. As a special mark of respect, the body of a young woman or a 
    warrior was sometimes laid out in state in a new teepee, with the usual 
    household articles and even with a dish of food left beside it, not that 
    they supposed the spirit could use the implements or eat the food but merely 
    as a last tribute. Then the whole people would break camp and depart to a 
    distance, leaving the dead alone in an honorable solitude. 
    There was no prescribed ceremony of burial, though the 
    body was carried out with more or less solemnity by selected young men, and 
    sometimes noted warriors were the pall-bearers of a man of distinction. It 
    was usual to choose a prominent with a commanding outlook for the last 
    resting-place of our dead. If a man were slain in battle, it was an old 
    custom to place his body against a tree or rock in a sitting position, 
    always facing the enemy, to indicate his undaunted defiance and bravery, 
    even in death. 
    I recall a touching custom among us, which was designed to 
    keep the memory of the departed near and warm in the bereaved household. A 
    lock of hair of the beloved dead was wrapped in pretty clothing, such as it 
    was supposed that he or she would like to wear if living. This "spirit 
    bundle," as it was called, was suspended from a tripod, and occupied a 
    certain place in the lodge which was the place of honor. At every meal time, 
    a dish of food was placed under it, and some person of the same sex and age 
    as the one who was gone must afterward be invited in to partake of the food. 
    At the end of a year from the time of death, the relatives made a public 
    feast and gave away the clothing and other gifts, while the lock of hair was 
    interred with appropriate ceremonies. 
    Certainly the Indian never doubted the immortal nature of 
    the spirit or soul of man, but neither did he care to speculate upon its 
    probable state or condition in a future life. The idea of a "happy 
    hunting-ground" is modern and probably borrowed, or invented by the white 
    man. The primitive Indian was content to believe that the spirit which the 
    "Great Mystery" breathed into man returns to Him who gave it, and that after 
    it is freed from the body, it is everywhere and pervades all nature, yet 
    often lingers near the grave or "spirit bundle" for the consolation of 
    friends, and is able to hear prayers. So much of reverence was due the 
    disembodied spirit, that it was not customary with us even to name the dead 
    aloud. 
    It is well known that the American Indian had somehow 
    developed occult power, and although in the latter days there have been many 
    impostors, and, allowing for the vanity and weakness of human nature, it is 
    fair to assume that there must have been some even in the old days, yet 
    there are well-attested instances of remarkable prophecies and other mystic 
    practice. 
    A Sioux prophet predicted the coming of the white man 
    fully fifty years before the event, and even described accurately his 
    garments and weapons. Before the steamboat was invented, another prophet of 
    our race described the "Fire Boat" that would swim upon their mighty river, 
    the Mississippi, and the date of this prophecy is attested by the term used, 
    which is long since obsolete. No doubt, many predictions have been colored 
    to suit the new age, and unquestionably false prophets, fakirs, and 
    conjurers have become the pest of the tribes during the transition period. 
    Nevertheless, even during this period there was here and there a man of the 
    old type who was implicitly believed in to the last. 
    Notable among these was Ta-chank-pee Ho-tank-a, or His War 
    Club Speaks Loud, who foretold a year in advance the details of a great 
    war-party against the Ojibways. There were to be seven battles, all 
    successful except the last, in which the Sioux were to be taken at a 
    disadvantage and suffer crushing defeat. This was carried out to the letter. 
    Our people surprised and slew many of the Ojibways in their villages, but in 
    turn were followed and cunningly led into an ambush whence but few came out 
    alive. This was only one of his remarkable prophecies. 
    Another famous "medicine-man" was born on the Rum River 
    about one hundred and fifty years ago, and lived to be over a century old. 
    He was born during a desperate battle with the Ojibways, at a moment when, 
    as it seemed, the band of Sioux engaged were to be annihilated. Therefore 
    the child's grandmother exclaimed: "Since we are all to perish, let him die 
    a warrior's death in the field!" and she placed his cradle under fire, near 
    the spot where his uncle and grandfathers were fighting, for he had no 
    father. But when an old man discovered the new-born child, he commanded the 
    women to take care of him, "for," said he, "we know not how precious the 
    strength of even one warrior may some day become to his nation!" 
    This child lived to become great among us, as was 
    intimated to the superstitious by the circumstances of his birth. At the age 
    of about seventy-five years, he saved his band from utter destruction at the 
    hands of their ancestral enemies, by suddenly giving warning received in a 
    dream of the approach of a large war-party. The men immediately sent out 
    scouts, and felled trees for a stockade, barely in time to meet and repel 
    the predicted attack. Five years later, he repeated the service, and again 
    saved his people from awful slaughter. There was no confusion of figures or 
    omens, as with lesser medicine-men, but in every incident that is told of 
    him his interpretation of the sign, whatever it was, proved singularly 
    correct.
    
    
    
      
    
    
    White Eagle Soaring: Dream Dancer of the 7th Fire
    
    