White Man’s Dance vs. Indian Dance.
Early in my stay at Nanaimo four or five of the leading chiefs came to me with the proposition that if I would allow them to go on with their potlatching and wild dancing every day in the week, they would come to church and rest on Sunday.
“No; you had better stop all your heathenism,” was my answer.
Nothing daunted, they came back again later. Now they would all be good on Sabbath and stand by me if they could dance. It was not very bad, and they had to keep up a little of what their fathers told them. And if I would not speak against it or pray against it they would all be good soon and would have all their children go to school.
“No, I cannot have anything to do with the old way, the dance, the potlatch, etc., it is all bad,” I said.
Then they whispered to each other, “Oh, he is like a post; you cannot move him.”
To give an idea of the scenes witnessed on these dancing occasions: Old Sna-kwe-multh, a man who had been taken a slave by some northern tribe, but who had found his way home, wished to demonstrate his bravery. At a great feast he came rushing in half naked and danced before the people. As his frenzy increased he slashed at his thighs with some kind of sharp instrument, and then with both hands caught up his own blood and drank it, to prove himself a brave.
A number of white men, who had been witnesses of the shameful scene, ran out and cried, “The devil is in the man.”
I denounced the custom and pleaded with them to give it up. Speaking to the old Chief Squen-es-ton, I said, “You must stop it. It is of the devil.”
“Oh,” said he, “the white man’s dance worse than the Indian’s dance.”
“How do you make that out?” I said.
“Oh, Indian man, alone, dance all round the house and sit down. And then Indian woman she dance all round and she sit down. But white man take another man’s wife and hug her all round the house.”
What could I say to the argument? What would you have said?