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The Path on the Rainbow, edited by George W. Cronyn, [1918], at sacred-texts.com
PREFATORY NOTE
The position of Tahirussawichi in the Pawnee tribe is that of a man worthy of respect—one versed in a knowledge of serious things, whose life has been devoted to the acquisition and maintenance of certain sacred rites. He is esteemed as a man of truth— one who has the favor of Tiráwa. He possesses a knowledge of curative roots, and often attends the sick, using herbs as medicine. He is the keeper of certain old and sacred objects, and leads in their attendant ceremonies. His great care in observing all the details of the intricate ceremony of the Hako is well known in the tribe, and much good fortune is believed to follow his leadership in this ceremony. His title is Kúrahus. This term is applied to a man of years who has been instructed in the meaning and use of sacred objects as well as their ceremonies. The word is sometimes employed as a synonym for a venerable man, one who commands respect, but throughout this paper it is used in its official sense—the leader of the ceremony.
NATURE OF THE CEREMONY
The teachings of the public ceremony were general in character. They emphasized, on the one hand, man's dependence on the supernatural for all the gifts of life, and on the other hand, his dependence on the family tie for the gifts of peace and happiness. The specific teachings were reserved for the Son. These began in the ritual to the Dawn (tenth ritual) on the morning of the second and third days, which prefigured the secret ceremonies
of the fifth morning, when the bond .of the family relation was extended beyond blood kinship through the symbolic rites which recognized the common source of life in Tiráwa atius.
Looking over the entire ceremony, it is interesting to note how older rites have had their share in the development of the Hako, and how the trend of thought among the native seers has borne them toward a conception of the brotherhood of man, a conception recognized as the noblest known to the human family.
This impressive ritual-drama may be compared to a medieval Miracle Play, and has exercised an influence no less profound on the tribes which have performed it. The chief persons in the drama are, the Father, the Son, the Children, and attendant Deities (the associates and representatives of Tiráwa atius, the Master of Life). Mother Corn, Kawas, the Eagle, the Morning Star, the Dawn, the Day and Father Sun. The Father is chosen from the tribe which presents the great spectacle; the Son is selected by the priests from another tribe by the curious psychic process described in the Second Ritual. Unusual blessings are supposed to accrue to those who take the leading parts.
INVOKING THE POWERS
EXPLANATION BY THE KÚRAHUS, OR CHIEF PRIEST
At the creation of the world it was arranged that there should be lesser powers. Tiráwa atius, the mighty power, could not come near to man, could not be seen or felt by him, therefore lesser powers were permitted. They were to mediate between man and Tiráwa. The first song mentions some of these lesser powers in the order in which they come near to man, in the order of their creation.
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PREPARING THE FEATHERED STEM
Blue is the color of the sky, the dwelling place of Tirawahut, that great circle of the powers which watch over man. As the man paints the stick blue we sing. We ask as we sing that life be given to this symbol of the dwelling place of Tiráwa. We paint the groove red because the passageway is red through which man's breath comes and goes to give him life. The sun, too, is red, and the groove represents the straight path whereon the sun shines, the path which man must travel if he would live in peace and prosper. The teachings of this ceremony make a straight path along which if a man walks he will receive help from the powers.
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Oh, Kawas, come, with wings outspread in sunny skies!
Oh, Kawas, come, and bring us peace, thy gentle peace!
Oh, Kawas, come, and give new life to us who pray!
In this ceremony the brown eagle is called Kawas. This eagle has been made holy by being sacrificed to Tiráwa. Its feathers are tied upon the stem that has been painted blue to represent the sky.
This stem was the first one painted and decorated, because it is female and the leader. It represents the night, the moon, the north, and stands for kindness and helpfulness. It will take care of the people. It is the mother.
Throughout the ceremony the Kúrahus carries this feathered stem.
Mother Corn knows all places and all that happens among men; therefore the corn which comes from her must lead, must direct us where to go.
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Mother Corn having reached the blue dome where dwells the great circle of powers, Tirawahut, and having gained what she went for, tawitshpa, authority to lead in the ceremony, she descends to earth by the four paths.
The spirit of Mother Corn leads our spirits in the search for the Son. We draw near, in the spirit, to the village where the Son
dwells. The Son does not see us as we stand there; he is sleeping. We fix our minds upon Mother Corn and upon him; we think of the gifts we are to bring him when we come to him with the Hako, the gifts that the birds and the animals that attend these sacred objects will surely bestow upon him—long life, children, and plenty. Now the spirit of Mother Corn touches him. We fix our minds upon Mother Corn and upon the Son; if we are in earnest he will respond to her touch. He will not waken, he will not see her, but he will see in a dream that which her touch will bring to him, one of the birds that attend the Hako, for all the spirits of those birds are with Mother Corn and they do her bidding, and he may hear the bird call to him. Then, when he awakens, he will remember his dream, and as he thinks upon it, he will know that he has been chosen to be a Son, and that all the good things that come with the ceremony which will make him a Son are now promised to him.
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The four messengers are selected informally by the Father from among his near relatives. They are generally young men, lithe and strong of limb, and able to make a long journey quickly. The distance to be traveled varies from a few miles to a hundred or more, and as they must carry all their provisions, it becomes necessary for them to get over the ground as rapidly as possible.
The formal appointment of these messengers takes place in the lodge of the Father, in the presence of the sacred objects spread at ceremonial rest.
When the messengers arrive at the lodge of the Son, he sends for his kindred and consults with them. Only a recent death in his family or some catastrophe which has deprived him of his property will be accepted as sufficient excuse for his not receiving the Hako party. If he accepts the tobacco he will bid the messengers return to the Father and say, "I am ready." In either case he must make gifts to the messengers in recognition of the proffered honor.
THE FATHER'S MESSAGE TO THE SON
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On the morning of the day the journey is to begin the Kúrahus rises from his place in the lodge behind the Hako and goes outside. There he ties the sacred objects on the selected tent pole.
The rope of buffalo hair is used to tie these sacred objects to the pole, which is then set up at the entrance of the lodge. Here it stands where the wind of the dawn may breathe upon the Hako and the first rays of the sun strike the sacred objects and give them life.
SONG OF PRAISE TO MOTHER CORN
As we sing we think that Mother breathing forth life, who has come out of the past, has now started to lead us on the journey we are to take and to the fulfilment of our desire that children may be given us, that generations may not fail in the future, and that the tie may be made strong between the Father and the Son.
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INVOCATION TO TIRÁWA
This song is addressed to Tiráwa atius. He is the father of all and all things come from him. We pray in our hearts as we sing. We ask Tiráwa to watch over the Kúrahus, to guide his acts and to guard his words so that he may make no mistake and the ceremony may be complete. From the east the flashes of the eyes of Tiráwa come darting through the air upon us and upon the sacred objects.
INVOCATION TO THE GODS
The people are now looking toward the north, the moon, the night, the mother of the day.
We ask the powers of the north, they who can see the path of life, to lead us and make us able to walk, us and our children.
To all the powers of the east, west, south, and north we have sung and have presented ourselves. As we walked, we have traced upon the earth the figure of a man. This image that we have traced is from Tiráwa. It has gone around with us, and its feet are where we now stand; its feet are with our feet and will move with them as we now take four steps, bearing the sacred objects, in the presence of all the powers and begin our journey to the land of the Son.
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THE JOURNEY BEGINS
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[paragraph continues] Mother Corn, who led our spirits over the path we are now to travel, leads us again as we walk, in our bodies, over the land.
We speak of this path as devious, not merely because we must go over hills and through valleys and wind around gulches to reach the land of the Son, but because we are thinking of the way by which, through the Hako, we can make a man who is not of our blood a Son; a way which has come down to us from our far-away ancestors like a winding path.
CROSSING THE PRAIRIE
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SONG OF OBEDIENCE
Mother Corn speaks to us and we are assured in our spirits. The next song is to enforce obedience to Mother Corn.
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The journey we are taking is for a sacred purpose, and as we are led by the supernatural power in Mother Corn we must address with song every object we meet, because Tiráwa is in all things. Everything we come to as we travel can give us help, and send help by us to the Children.
Trees are among the lesser powers, and they are represented on the Hako which we carry, so when we see trees we must sing to them.
Trees grow along the banks of the streams; we can see them at a distance, like a long line, and we can see the river glistening in the sunlight in its length. We sing to the river, and when we come nearer and see the water and hear it rippling, then we sing to the water, the water that ripples as it runs.
SONG TO THE TREES AND STREAMS
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SONG WHEN CROSSING THE STREAMS
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SONG TO THE WIND
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SONG TO THE MOUNTAINS
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SONG TO THE MESA
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THE SEARCH FOR THE CHILDREN
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As we move on and enter the land of the Children we sing, in the second stanza, about their footprints, the marks of their moccasins where they have walked to and fro on the ground. We may not actually see these marks, but the song represents us as seeing them; Mother Corn has seen them, and she is leading us.
When the village of the Children is in sight the following
song is sung. Mother Corn speaks in the first stanza and tells us she has come again to this place. Her spirit had been here before when she came seeking the Son. To-day we have arrived with her at this her destination, and we give thanks to Mother Corn.
SONG OF THE JOURNEY'S END
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[paragraph continues] The pack containing the clothing provided for this representative of the Son is now opened. After the messenger has finished eating he is dressed in the new clothing.
We clothe him because that is an act which marks the care of a father for his child. The garments we put upon him are fine and embroidered; these fine and carefully made garments show that we have been thinking of him, that we regard him highly and wish to do him honor.
Just before we reach the village we halt and sing the next song.
SEEKING THE SON
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When the Son has dispatched his messenger to the Hako party, he with a few of his near relatives, enters the lodge set apart for
the ceremony, there to await the return of his messenger and the coming of the Fathers.
He seats himself at the south side of the lodge near the door. This is the humblest place, and he takes it to show that he is not seeking his own honor. By the choice of him as the Son a very high honor has been bestowed upon him, and his appreciation of this is shown by his taking the seat of the lowliest and not assuming prominence before the people.
The Kúrahus directs the chief of the Hako party to advance one step and to stand upon the threshold while the first stanza of the next song is sung.
TOUCHING AND CROSSING THE THRESHOLD
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MOTHER CORN BREATHING LIFE IS NOW WALKING IN THE LODGE
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KAWAS HOVERS OVERHEAD IN THE LODGE
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The lodge having been made ready as a nest within which life might be given and made secure, the Father performs his first act of recognition and responsibility. He puts upon the Son the garments he has previously prepared for the purpose. When clad in the finely embroidered clothing, the Son is told to make the offering of smoke to Tiráwa atius, as a prayer for the consecration of the new-born relationship.
THE SON PRAYS TO THE GODS
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SONG OF THE PRAYER SMOKE
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Now the heralds summon the people to the lodge and they come, dressed in their best attire and bringing gifts.
IN PRAISE OF TIRÁWA
INVOCATION TO THE ALL-FATHER
When the Kúrahus begins to sing this song he must think what this ceremony is for and be mindful that all the powers that the heavens contain and all the powers that are felt over the earth are now coming near and bending over the Hako.
All the powers that are in the heavens and all those that are upon the earth are derived from the mighty power, Tiráwa atius. He is the father of all things visible and invisible. He is the father of all the people, and perpetuates the life of the tribe through the gift of children. So we sing, your father, meaning the father of all people everywhere, the father of all things that we see and hear and feel.
FIRST SONG
The feathered stems represent the eagle; the holy place, where the stems are laid to rest, represents the eagle's nest. A nest is made for the young; the making of a nest in the lodge of the Son by Kawas presages the fulfillment of the promise of children to the Son, as well as the establishment of a close bond, like that of father and son, between the members of two unrelated clans or tribes.
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SECOND SONG
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When the sun has set and it is dark and the stars are shining, then the Children gather in the lodge. Some, as they come in, will advance to the holy place and there drop a stick; this means the gift of a pony. For every such gift the Kúrahus returns thanks to the giver.
After all are seated, wood is piled upon the fire, and when the flames leap high the Kúrahus rises, then his assistant and the chief rise and the Hako are taken up.
The singers carrying the drum follow the Hako bearers as they move slowly around the lodge, singing the following song.
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Holy visions!
Hither come, we pray you, come unto us,
Bringing with you joy;
Come, oh, come to us, holy visions,
Bringing with you joy.
[paragraph continues] We sing about the visions which the birds on the feathered stems are to bring to the Children.
Visions come from above, they are sent by Tiráwa atius. The lesser powers come to us in visions. We receive help through the visions. All the promises which attend the Hako will be made good to us in this way.
Visions can come most readily at night; spirits travel better at that time. Now when we are met together we, the Fathers, call upon the visions to come to the Children.
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[paragraph continues] The visions have heard the call of the spirits of the birds upon the feathered stems, joined to the call of our spirits, and they are descending by the east from their dwelling place above, and are coming toward the lodge.
We sing, "They are coming," and the Children join in the song, as we pass around and wave the feathered stems.
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[paragraph continues] As we sing the visions touch and cross the threshold and then pass down the long passageway leading into the lodge. As we reach the west they have entered the lodge.
Kawas and all the birds have called these visions to bless the Children. The visions have heard, they have traveled far, they have reached the lodge, and now they have entered and are in the presence of the Children.
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[paragraph continues] The visions which attend the Hako are now touching the Children, touching them here and there and by their touch giving them dreams, which will bring them health, strength, happiness, and all good things.
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[paragraph continues] As we sing, the visions are walking away; they have done what they came to do; they are now leaving the lodge, and when we reach the west the space they had filled is empty.
We pause and we think of the visions going away over the silent earth to ascend to their dwelling place.
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As the night draws to a close, the Kúrahus orders the server to lift the skins which hang at the outer and inner doors of the long passageway of the lodge, and to go outside and watch for the first glimmer of light.
At the first indication of a change, when the air begins to stir, the server comes in with the tidings, and we rise, take up the Hako, and stand at the west, behind the holy place; there, looking toward the east, we sing this song. We sing it slowly and with reverent feeling, for it speaks of the mysterious and powerful act of Tiráwa atius in the birth of Dawn.
THE SUMMONS TO MOTHER CORN
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[paragraph continues] We call to Mother Earth, who is represented by the ear of corn. She has been asleep and resting during the night. We ask her to awake, to move, to arise, for the signs of the dawn are seen in the east and the breath of the new life is here.
Mother Earth hears the call; she moves, she awakes, she arises, she feels the breath of the new-born Dawn. The leaves and the grass stir; all things move with the breath of the new day; everywhere life is renewed.
This is very mysterious; we are speaking of something very sacred, although it happens every day.
THE AWAKENING OF MOTHER CORN
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[paragraph continues] The eagle soars where these powers dwell and can communicate with them. The new life of the new day is felt by these powers above as well as by Mother Earth below.
THE SUMMONS TO KAWAS, THE EAGLE
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THE AWAKENING OF KAWAS
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[paragraph continues] H’Kawas hears the call and awakes. Now all the powers above wake and stir, and all things below wake and stir; the breath of new life is everywhere. With the signs in the east has come this new life.
Kawas, the brown eagle, the messenger of the powers above, now stands within the lodge and speaks. The Kúrahus hears his voice as she tells him what the signs in the east mean.
She tells him that Tiráwa atius there moves upon Darkness, the Night, and causes her to bring forth the Dawn. It is the breath of the new-born Dawn, the child of Night and Tiráwa atius, which is felt by all the powers and all things above and below and which gives them new life for the new day.
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THE MORNING STAR AND THE NEW-BORN DAY
We sing this song slowly with reverent feeling, for we are singing of very sacred things.
The Morning Star is like a man; he is painted red all over; that is the color of life. He is clad in leggins and a robe is wrapped about him. On his head is a soft downy eagle's feather, painted red. This feather represents the soft, light cloud that is high in the heavens, and the red is the touch of a ray of the coming sun. The soft, downy feather is the symbol of breath and life.
The star comes from a great distance, too far away for us to see the place where it starts. At first we can hardly see it; we lose sight of it, it is so far off; then we see it again, for it is coming steadily toward us all the time. We watch it approach; it comes nearer and nearer; its light grows brighter and brighter.
INVOCATION TO THE MORNING STAR
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INVOCATION TO DAWN
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As we sing this song the Morning Star comes still nearer and now we see him standing there in the heavens, a strong man shining brighter and brighter. The soft plume in his hair moves with the breath of the new day, and the ray of the sun touches it with color. As he stands there so bright, he is bringing us strength and new life.
As we look upon him he grows less bright, he is receding, going back to his dwelling. place whence he came. We watch him vanishing, passing out of our sight. He has left with us the gift of life which Tiráwa atius sent him to bestow.
As we stand, looking through the long passageway of the lodge, watching and singing, we see the Dawn come nearer and nearer; its brightness fills the sky, the shadowy forms on the earth are becoming visible. As we watch, the Dawn, like the Morning Star, recedes. It is following the Star, going back to the place whence it came, to its birthplace.
The Day is close behind, advancing along the path of the Morning Star and, as we watch, the Dawn vanishes from our sight.
DAYLIGHT
We sing this song with loud voices, we are glad. We shout, "Daylight has come! Day is here!" The light is over the earth. As we look out through the door of the lodge we can see the trees, and all things stand out clearly in the light.
We call to the Children, we bid them awake and throw off the robes that covered their heads as they slept and let their eyes look out and behold the light of day, the day that has come, that is here.
SONG OF THE JOY OF DAY
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On this, the second day of the ceremony, we remember our father the Sun. The sun comes directly from Tiráwa atius, and whoever is touched by the first rays of the sun in the morning receives new life and strength which have been brought straight from the power above. The first rays of the sun are like a young man, they have not yet spent their force or grown old, so, to be touched by them is to receive an accession of strength.
All the time I am singing this song I remember the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Corn; all these were made by Tiráwa atius, and I ask them to give us success and plenty; success in hunting and in war; plenty of food, of children, and of health. The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Corn, are powerful.
We speak of the sun as Father breathing forth life (h’Aars), causing the earth to bring forth, making all things to grow. We think of the sun, which comes direct from Tiráwa atius, the father of life, and his ray (hukawi) as the bearer of this life. (You have seen this ray as it comes through a little hole or crack.) While we sing, this ray enters the door of the lodge to bring strength and power to all within.
The first four verses of this chant are sung in the morning; they follow the movements of the ray. When the spot has reached the floor we stop singing and do not begin again until the afternoon, so that our song can accompany the ray as it leaves the lodge, touches the hills, and finally returns to the sun.
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Now behold; nearer comes the ray of our father Sun; it reaches
now the floor and moves within the open space, walking
there, the lodge about.
[paragraph continues] Later, when the sun is sinking in the west, the land is in shadow, only on the top of the hills toward the east can the spot, the
sign of the ray's touch, be seen. Then we sing the stanza as we go around the lodge the third time.
The ray of Father Sun, who breathes forth life, is standing on the edge of the hills. We remember that in the morning it had stood on the edge of the opening in the roof of the lodge over the fireplace; now it stands on the edge of the hills that, like the walls of a lodge, inclose the land where the people dwell.
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CHANT OF THE EAGLES
This song likens the bustle and stir of the Hako party as it comes into the village to the flapping of the wings of a flock of birds as they come to a place and alight. It refers also to the birds represented on the feathered stems—the eagle, the duck, the woodpecker, and the owl. The noise of the wings of these birds is what is meant, for they are moving with the Fathers toward the Children.
THE WINGS OF THE MIGHTY
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FIRST SONG
Truly, in dreams it was that the Fathers saw
Clearly the Hako, wherewith I make you now
As my son,
My own begotten.
Truly, in dreams they learned how to make you thus
My offspring.
SECOND SONG
THIRD SONG—TO THE PLEIADES
FOURTH SONG—OF KATASHA, THE DWELLING PLACE OF THE VISIONS
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FIFTH SONG
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SIXTH SONG
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FIRST SONG—TO OUR FATHER SUN
SECOND SONG
THIRD SONG—TO OUR MOTHER EARTH
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THE FLOCKING OF THE BIRDS
In the early spring the birds lay their eggs in their nests, in the summer they rear their young, in the fall all the young ones are grown, the nests are deserted and the birds fly in flocks over the country. One can hear the fluttering of a startled flock, the birds suddenly rise and their wings make a noise like distant thunder. Everywhere the flocks are flying. In the fall it seems as though new life were put into the people as well as into the birds; there is much activity in coming and going.
When the eggs are hatched and the young are grown, the birds flock; the promise of young has been fulfilled. In this song, which we sing toward the close of the ceremony, we are thinking of the fulfilling of the promise given by the Hako, that children will be granted to the people, so that they may be many and strong, and we sing that the great flocks are coming.
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The life of man depends upon the earth (h’Atira). Tiráwa atius works through it. The kernel is planted within Mother Earth as she brings forth the ear of corn, even as children are begotten and born of women.
FIRST SONG
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SECOND SONG
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THIRD SONG
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FOURTH SONG
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FIFTH SONG
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SIXTH SONG
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SEEKING THE CHILD
The child referred to is usually a little son or daughter of the Son, the man who has received the Hako party. Upon this little child we are to put the signs of the promises which Mother Corn and Kawas bring, the promise of children, of increase, of long life, of plenty. The signs of these promises are put upon this little child, but they are not merely for that particular child
but for its generation, that the children already born may live, grow in strength, and in their turn increase so that the family and the tribe may continue.
FIRST SONG
SECOND SONG
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FIRST SONG
The ear of corn represents h’Uraru, Mother Earth who brings forth; the power which causes her to bring forth is from above, and the blue paint represents that power.
We hold the painted ear of corn toward the little child that the powers from above and from below may come near it.
While we sing the third stanza, the Kúrahus touches the little child on the forehead with the ear of corn. The spirit of Mother Corn, with the power of Mother Earth, granted from above, has touched the child.
The touch means the promise of fruitfulness to the child and its generation.
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THIRD SONG
This song means that it is accomplished, that the child has been encompassed by the powers represented by the united stems. It is a promise of procreation.
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ACTION SYMBOLIZING LIFE
The child, surrounded by the creative forces, is urged to move, to arise as the first song is sung.
The four steps taken by the child represent the progress of life.
FIRST SONG
SECOND SONG
THIRD SONG
On the preceding night water was taken from a stream; this water is now put into a bowl. Every detail of this act is symbolic. The time when the water was obtained was night, the mother of day; running water symbolizes the continuity of life, one generation following another; the bowl which holds the water resembles in its shape the dome of the sky, the abode of the powers which bestow life.
The child is touched with the water upon the head and face, an invisible outline being made, which afterward is to become distinct. The first touching with water, one of the lesser powers, is to cleanse and give strength.
FIRST SONG
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ANOINTING THE CHILD
As we sing this song the old man makes the same lines upon the face of the child as he made with the water and the brush of grass. This is in recognition that the life which has been sustained and nourished is now consecrated to Tiráwa atius, the Father above, who gives life to all things.
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SECOND SONG
The grass of which the brush is made is gathered during a ceremony belonging to the Rain shrine. It represents Toharu, the living covering of Mother Earth. The power which is in Toharu gives food to man and the animals so that they can live and
become strong and able to perform the duties of life. This power represented by the brush of grass is now standing before the little child.
While we sing this song the old man touches the forehead of the child with the brush of grass. The power of Toharu has reached the child, has come in contact with it to impart the strength that comes from food.
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FIRST SONG
The paint symbolizes the red clouds of the dawn, the coming of the new day, the rising sun, the vigor of life. The power of the new day, the new life, is now standing before the child.
As we sing this song the old man touches the forehead with the red paint. The vigor of life, the power of the touch of the sun, is now on the child.
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SECOND SONG
Blue represents the sky, the place where Tiráwa atius dwells, and with this blue paint we are to make upon the child a picture of the face of Tiráwa atius. It is a mark of Tiráwa atius' acceptance of the consecrated child and a sign of his presence. The symbol of the dwelling place of Tiráwa atius stands before the child.
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FIRST SONG
The down represents the high, light clouds (cirrus) in the blue of the sky; they are near the abode of Tiráwa atius.
The down is taken from under the wings of the white eagle. The white eagle is the mate of the brown eagle, and the child is the child of Kawas, the brown eagle. The down grew close to the heart of the eagle and moved as the eagle breathed. It represents the breath and life of the white eagle, the father of the child.
While we sing this song the old man opens his hand and lets the down fall upon the hair. The soft, white clouds near the abode of Tiráwa atius have dropped and covered the head of the child.
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[paragraph continues] We sing in the fifth stanza that it is accomplished, the head of the consecrated child now rests in the soft, white clouds which float near the dwelling place of Tiráwa atius.
SECOND SONG
While we sing this song, the old man ties the downy feather on the child's hair. Tiráwa atius is now with the little child as the double feather waves over its head.
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[paragraph continues] Now we sing that all is accomplished. The child has been fully prepared, the sacred symbols put upon it, the powers from above have come, and Tiráwa atius breathes over it.
The child is now told to look into the bowl of water and behold its face. The running water symbolizes the passing on of generations, one following another. The little child looks on the water and sees its own likeness, as it will see that likeness in its children and children's children. The face of Tiráwa atius is there also, giving promise that the life of the child shall go on, as the waters flow over the land.
MAKING THE NEST
The circle represents a nest, and is drawn by the toe because the eagle builds its nest with its claws. Although we are imitating the bird making its nest, there is another meaning to the action; we are thinking of Tiráwa making the world for the people to live in. If you go on a high hill and look around, you will see the sky touching the earth on every side, and within this circular inclosure the people live. So the circles we have made are not only nests, but they also represent the circle Tiráwa atius has made for the dwelling place of all the people. The circles also stand for the kinship group, the clan, and the tribe.
The down represents the light clouds near the dwelling place of Tiráwa—the dome of the sky over the dwelling place of the people—and it stands for the protection of Tiráwa.
SONG
SYMBOLIC FULFILMENT
The child represents the young generation, the continuation of life, and when it is put in the circle, it typifies the bird laying its eggs.
SONG
THANK OFFERING
An offering of sweet smoke is made to Tiráwa; then all traces of the nest are obliterated, and the lodge is once more thrown open to the people.
The purpose of the rite is recognized by the important place given to children in this part of the ceremony. The ponies presented to the Fathers are each led up by a little child; the acting out of a man's war-like deeds is to honor his child, and the little child with the black covering upon its head and the picture of Tiráwa upon its face receives, with the chief, the gifts as they are presented.
In every instance the child is the tie between the two groups, the Fathers and Children.
FIRST SONG
SECOND SONG
THIRD SONG
When I sing this song I pray to Tiráwa to come down and touch with his breath the symbol of his face and all the other symbols on the little child. I pray with all my spirit that Tiráwa atius will let the child grow up and become strong and find favor in its life.
This is a very solemn act, because we believe that Tiráwa atius, although not seen by us, sends down his breath as we pray, calling on him to come.
As I sing this song here with you I can not help shedding tears. I have never sung it before except as I stood looking upon the little child and praying for it in my heart. There is no little child here, but you are here writing all these things down that they may not be lost and that our children may know what their fathers believed and practiced in this ceremony. So, as I sing, I am calling to Tiráwa atius to send down his breath upon you, to give you strength and long life. I am praying for you with all my spirit.
The purport of this song is hidden from the people, but this is what it means: All that I have been doing to you, little child, has been a prayer to call down the breath of Tiráwa atius to give you long life and strength and to teach you that you belong to him—that you are his child and not mine.
SONG
Long ago there lived a holy man who knew all the songs and the rites of this ceremony, and to him came a vision wherein he was taught how to bring comfort to a little child when, during the ceremony, it cried and could not be pacified. In this vision he was shown what he must do to bring comfort to the little child, and he heard the songs that he must sing. The songs which he heard have been handed down through many generations.
When during the ceremony a child cries and can not be comforted, the mother, or someone sent by her, can approach the Kúrahus who carries the brown-eagle stem and ask him to comfort and quiet the child. The Kúrahus must comply with this request, so he rises and stands before the holy place, takes up the feathered stem and sings this song, which tells the brown eagle, Kawas, that its baby is crying.
FIRST SONG
SECOND SONG
THIRD SONG
I
II
II—CHANGING A MAN'S NAME
If any man of the Son's party had achieved success in war, and his achievements had been acknowledged by the people, he could request the Son to have the ceremony of changing his name performed.
This dramatic poem is in a rhythmic form impossible to reproduce in English; neither is a literal translation adequate to convey its meaning, since a single word sometimes represents a complex action, to the understanding of which a knowledge of the customs and beliefs of the tribe is essential. The terseness of expression was also intended to close the meaning to the uninitiated, keeping it sacred from the common people. Although the form of the following rhythmic rendition could not be determined as heretofore by musical phrases, the English version contains nothing which is not in the original text explained and amplified by the Kúrahus.
The ritual is in three parts. The first gives a brief narration
of the institution of the custom of changing the name in consequence of some new achievement. The second shows how the man was enabled to accomplish this act. It began with his lonely vigil and fast, when he cried to the powers for help. The scene then shifts to the circle of the lesser powers, who, in council, deliberate on the petition which makes its way to them and gains their consent. Then the Winds summon the messengers, and these, gathering at the lesser powers' command, are sent to earth to the man crying in lonely places, to grant his desire. This part closes with a few vivid words which set forth that only by the favor and help of the powers had the man been able to do the deed. The third deals with the man's names, the one to be discarded and the one now to be assumed.
Harken! The Leader and his men
Made there the Vict’ry Song, and set the mark!
Ye must o’ertake, if ye would be like them!
Harken! The Leader and his men
Turned then toward home. Their Vict’ry Song
Proclaimed them near; the village rose,
Looked toward the hill, where on the top
Stood the brave men singing their Song,
Heralding thus the favor of the gods
By which they had surpassed all former deeds,
Made new their claim to be accounted men.
Harken! This poor man's prayer went on,
Speeding afar into the blue
Heavens above, reached there the place—
Harken! Where dwell the lesser gods—
Harken! And great Tiráwa, mightier than all!
Harken! It was because a god
Received this prayer, considered it,
Favored its plea, and passed it on
To him whose place was next, in that grand ring,
Who, in his turn received the prayer,
Considered it, and sent it on—
Harken! Around that circle vast—
Harken! Where sit the gods above.
Harken! And thus it was the prayer
Sent by this man won the consent
Of all the gods. For each god in his place
Harken! To make their purpose known,
Succor and aid freely to give,
Heralds were called, called by the Winds;
Then in the west uprose the Clouds
Heavy and black, ladened with storm.
Slowly they climbed, dark’ning the skies;
While close on every side the Thunders marched
On their dread way, ’till all were come
To where the gods in stately Council sat
Waiting for them. Then, bade them go
Back to the earth, carrying aid
To him whose prayers had reached their circle vast.
This mandate given, the Thunders turned toward earth,
Taking their course slantwise the sky.
Harken! Another followed hard—
Lightning broke forth out of the Cloud,
Zig-zag and dart, cleaving their way
Slantwise to earth, their goal to reach.
Harken! For these two were not all
That hastened to proclaim the gods' behest;
Swift on their wings, ranging the path,
Black breasts and red, yellow, and white,
Flying about, clearing the way
For those who bore the message of the gods
Granting the man courage to dare,
Harken! ’Twas thus it came to pass:
The Leader grasped the help sent by the gods;
Henceforth he walked steadfast and strong,
Leading his men through dangers drear,
Knowing that naught could strike at him
To whom the gods had promised victory.
Attend! Once more I change his name!
Harken! Rirutskatit, it was
We used to call him by, a name he won
Long days ago, marking an act
Well done by him, but now passed by.
Harken! Today all men shall say—
Harken! His act has lifted him
Where all his tribe behold a man
Clothed with new fame, strong in new strength,
Gained by his deeds, blessed by the gods.
Harken! Shakúru Wárukote shall he be called.
I have done what has never been done before. I have given you all the songs of this ceremony and explained them to you. I never thought that I, of all my people, should be the one to give this ancient ceremony to be preserved, and I wonder over it as I sit here.
I think over my long life with its many experiences; of the
great number of Pawnees who have been with me in war, nearly all of whom have been killed in battle. I have been severely wounded many times—see this scar over my eye. I was with those who went to the Rocky Mountains to the Cheyennes, when so many soldiers were slain that their dead bodies lying there looked like a great blue blanket spread over the ground. When I think of all the people of my own tribe who have died during my lifetime and then of those in other tribes that have fallen by our hands, they are so many they make a vast cover over Mother Earth. I once walked with these prostrate forms. I did not fall but I passed on, wounded sometimes but not to death, until I am here to-day doing this thing, singing these sacred songs and telling you of these ancient rites of my people. It must be that I have been preserved for this purpose, otherwise I should be lying back there among the dead.