When the Pawnees of the Platte were sorely afflicted with smallpox, and when they were visited by their agent, he depicts in his report the most horrible scenes. The poor wretches were utterly ignorant of any remedy or alleviation. Some sank themselves to the mouth in the river, and awaited death which was thus hastened. The living could not always protect the dying and dead from the wolves. Their chief, Capote Bleu, once exclaimed to an American officer: “Oh my father, how many glorious battles we might have fought, and not lost so many men!”
The Pawnees were probably the most degraded, in point of morals, of all the Western tribes; they were held in such contempt by the other tribes that none would make treaties with them. They were populous at one time, and were the most inveterate enemies of the whites, killing them wherever they met.
The Pawnees in reality comprised five bands, which constituted the entire nation: The Grand Pawnee Band; the Republican Pawnee Band; Pawnee Loups, or Wolf Pawnees; Pawnee Picts, or Tattooed Pawnees; and Black Pawnees. Each land was independent and under its own chief, but for mutual defence, or in other cases of urgent necessity, they united in one body, and in the early days on the plains could raise from thirty to forty thousand warriors.
They were, perhaps, the most cruel of all Indian nations. They evinced a demoniacal delight in inflicting the most exquisite tortures upon their captives. They were impure, both in their ordinary conversation and in their daily conduct. Still, they had some redeeming qualities. The recognition of the claims of their relations might be emulated by our higher civilization; so impressed upon their natures was the duty to those who were related to them, that their language contains a proverb: “Ca-si-ri pi-rus, he wi-ti ti-ruk-ta-pi-di-hu-ru—Why, even the worms, they love each other—much more should men.” They were also very hospitable, very sociable, and fond of telling stories. They really had a literature of stories and songs, which, if they could be gathered in their entirety, would make a large volume.
One form of sacrifice formerly practised in the tribe, or rather in one band—for the other bands emphatically disclaimed any share in the barbarous rite—stood apart in unhappy prominence. This was the offering of human sacrifices (their captives); not burning them as an expression of embittered revenge, but sacrificing them as a religious ordinance. What the origin of this terrible practice was the Pawnees could never definitely explain. The rite was of long standing evidently. The sacrifice was made to the morning star, “O-pir-i-kut,” which, with the Ski-di, especially, was an object of superstitious veneration. It was always about corn-planting time, and the design of the bloody ordeal was to conciliate that being and secure a good crop; hence it has been supposed that the morning star was regarded by them as presiding over agriculture, but it was not so. They sacrificed to that star simply because they feared it, imagining that it exerted a malign influence if not well disposed. The sacrifice, however, was not an annual one; it was only made when special occurrences were interpreted as calling for it. The victim was usually a girl, or young woman, taken from their enemies. The more beautiful the unfortunate was, the more acceptable the offering. When it had been determined in a council of the band to make the sacrifice, the person was selected, if possible, some months beforehand, and placed in charge of the medicine-men, who treated her with the utmost kindness. She was fed plentifully that she might become fleshy, and kept in entire ignorance of her impending doom. During this time she was made to eat alone, lest having by chance eaten with any one of the band, she would by the law of hospitality become that person's guest, and he be bound to protect her. On the morning of the day finally fixed for the ordeal, she was led from lodge to lodge throughout the village, begging wood and paint, not knowing that these articles were for her own immolation. Whenever a stick of wood or portion of red or black paint was given her, it was taken by the medicine-men attending, and sent to the spot selected for the final rite. A sufficient quantity of these materials having been collected, the ceremony was begun by a solemn conclave of all the medicine-men. Smoking the great medicine pipe, displaying the contents of the medicine bundle, dancing, praying, etc., were repeated at different stages of the proceedings. A framework of two posts, about four and a half feet apart, was set in the ground, and to them two horizontal crosspieces, at a height of two and seven feet, were firmly fastened. Between the posts a slow fire was built. At nightfall the victim was disrobed and the torture began. After the sickening sight had continued long enough, an old man, previously appointed, discharged an arrow at the heart of the unfortunate, and freed her from further torture. The medicine-men forthwith cut open the chest, took out the heart, and burned it. The smoke rising from the fire in which it was burning was supposed to possess wonderful virtues, and implements of war, hunting, and agriculture were passed through it to insure success in their use. The flesh was hacked from the body, buried in the corn patches, thrown to the dogs, or disposed of in any way that caprice might direct. The skeleton was allowed to remain in position till, loosened by decay, it fell to the ground.[44]
The last time this sacrifice was made, according to official reports,
was sixty years ago (April, 1838). Dunbar relates this last reported
sacrifice as follows:
The winter previous to the date given, the Ski-di, soon after
starting on their hunt, had a successful fight with a band of
Ogallalla Sioux, killed several men and took over twenty
children. Fearing that the Sioux, according to their tactics,
would retaliate by coming upon them in overwhelming force,
they returned for safety to their village before taking
a sufficient number of buffalo. With little to eat, they
lived miserably, lost many of their ponies from scarcity of
forage, and, worst of all, one of the captives proved to have
the smallpox, which rapidly spread through the band, and in
the spring was communicated to the rest of the tribe.
All these accumulated misfortunes the Ski-di attributed to
the anger of the morning star, and accordingly they resolved
to propitiate its favour by a repetition of the sacrifice,
though in direct violation of a stipulation made two years
before that the sacrifice should not occur again.
In connection with its abolition, the oft-told story of Pit-a-le-shar-u is recalled. Sa-re-cer-ish, second chief of the Cau-i band, was a man of unusually humane disposition, and had strenuously endeavoured to secure the suppression of the practice. In the spring of 1817 the Ski-di arranged to sacrifice a Comanche girl. After Sa-re-cer-ish had essayed in vain to dissuade them, Pit-a-le-shar-u, a young man about twenty years of age, of almost giant stature, and already famed as a great brave, conceived the bold design of rescuing her. On the day set for the rite he actually cut the girl loose, after she had been tied to the stakes, placed her upon a horse that he had in readiness, and hurried her away across the prairies till they were come within a day's journey of her people's village. There, after giving necessary directions as to her course, he dismissed her, himself returning to the Pawnees. The suddenness and intrepidity of his movements, and his known prowess, were no doubt all that saved him from death at the moment of the rescue and after his return. Twice afterward he presumed to interfere. In one instance, soon after the foregoing, he assisted in securing by purchase the ransom of a Spanish boy, who had been set apart for sacrifice. Several years later, about 1831, he aided in the attempted rescue of a girl. The resistance on this occasion was so determined that even after the girl had been bought and was mounted upon a horse behind Major Daugherty, at that time general agent, to be taken from the Ski-di village, she was shot by one of the medicine-men. The magnanimous conduct of Sa-re-cer-ish and Pit-a-le-shar-u in this matter stands almost unexampled in Indian annals.
The Pawnees were essentially a religious people, if one may be allowed to use the term in connection with a tribe whose morals were at such a low ebb. They worshipped Ti-ra-wa, who is in and of everything. Differing from many tribes, who adore material things, the Pawnees simply regarded certain localities as sacred—they became so only because they were blessed by the Divine presence. Ti-ra-wa was not personified; he was as intangible as the God of the Christian. The sacred nature of the Pawnee deity extended to all animal nature —the fish that swim in the rivers, the birds that fly in the air, and all the beasts which roam over the prairie were believed by the Pawnee to possess intelligence, knowledge, and power far beyond that of man. They were not, however, considered as gods; their miraculous attributes were given to them by their ruler, whose servants they were, and who often made them the medium of his communications to man. They were his messengers, his angels, and their powers were always used for good. Prayers were made to them in time of need, but rather pleading for their intercession with Ti-ra-wa than directly to them. All important undertakings were preceded by a prayer for help, and success in their undertakings was acknowledged by grateful offerings to the ruler. The victorious warrior frequently sacrificed the scalp torn from the head of his enemy, which was burned with much elaborate mummery by the medicine-men, and he who brought back from a raid many horses always gave one to the chief medicine-man as a thank-offering to Ti-ra-wa.
The Pawnees entertained feelings of reverence and humility only toward their god; they really did not love him, but looked to him for help at all times. The young braves were particularly exhorted to humble themselves before Ti-ra-wa, to pray to him, and to look to One Above, to ask help from him.
During Monroe's administration, a very influential and physically powerful Indian named Two Axe, chief counsellor of the Pawnee Loups, went to pay a visit to the “Great Father,” the President of the United States. Two Axe was over six feet high and well proportioned, of athletic build, and as straight as an arrow. He had been delegated to go to Washington by his tribe to make a treaty with the government.