| YOU
can see them as you look towards the north and the west,
where the dream-hills swim into the sky amid their ever-drifting
clouds of pearl and grey. They catch the earliest hint
of sunrise, they hold the last colour of sunset. Twin
mountains they are, lifting their twin peaks above the
fairest city in all Canada, and known throughout the
British Empire as “The
Lions of Vancouver.”
Sometimes
the smoke of forest fires blurs them until they gleam
like opals in a purple atmosphere, too beautiful for
words to paint. Sometimes the slanting rains festoon
scarfs of mist about their crests, and the peaks fade
into shadowy outlines, melting, melting, for ever melting
into the distances. But for most days in the year the
sun circles the twin glories with a sweep of gold. The
moon washes them with a torrent of silver. Oftentimes,
when the city is shrouded in rain, the sun yellows their
snows to a deep orange, but through sun and shadow they
stand immovable, smiling westward above the waters of
the restless Pacific, eastward above the superb beauty
of the Capilano Canyon. But the Indian tribes do not
know these peaks as “The Lions.” Even the
chief whose feet have so recently wandered to the Happy
Hunting Grounds, never heard the name given them until
I mentioned it to him one dreamy August day, as together
we followed the trail leading to the canyon. He seemed
so surprised at the name that I mentioned the reason
it had been applied to them, asking him if he recalled
the Landseer Lions in Trafalgar Square. Yes, he remembered
those splendid sculptures, and his quick eye saw the
resemblance instantly. It appeared to please him, and
his fine face expressed the haunting memories of the
far-away roar of Old London. But the “call of
the blood” was stronger, and presently he referred
to the Indian legend of those peaks—a [Page
1] legend that I have reason to believe is
absolutely unknown to thousands of Palefaces who look
upon “The Lions” daily, without the love
for them that is in the Indian heart; without knowledge
of the secret of “The Two Sisters.” The
legend was far more fascinating as it left his lips
in the quaint broken English that is never so dulcet
as when it slips from an Indian tongue. His inimitable
gestures, strong, graceful, comprehensive, were like
a perfectly chosen frame embracing a delicate painting,
and his brooding eyes were as the light in which the
picture hung. “Many thousands of years ago,”
he began, “there were no twin peaks like sentinels
guarding the outposts of this sunset coast. They were
placed there long after the first creation, when the
Sagalie Tyee moulded the mountains, and patterned the
mighty rivers where the salmon run, because of His love
for His Indian children, and His wisdom for their necessities.
In those times there were many and mighty Indian tribes
along the Pacific—in the mountain ranges, at the
shores and sources of the great Fraser River. Indian
law ruled the land. Indian customs prevailed. Indian
beliefs were regarded. Those were the legend-making
ages when great things occurred to make the traditions
we repeat to our children today. Perhaps the greatest
of these traditions is the story of ‘The Two Sisters,’
for they are known to us as ‘The Chief’s
Daughters,’ and to them we owe the Great Peace
in which we live, and have lived for many countless
moons. There is an ancient custom amongst the Coast
tribes that when our daughters step from childhood into
the great world of womanhood the occasion must be made
one of extreme rejoicing. The being who possesses the
possibility of some day mothering a man child, a warrior,
a brave, receives much consideration in most nations,
but to us, the Sunset Tribes, she is honored above all
people. The parents usually give a great potlatch, and
a feast that lasts many days. The entire tribe and the
surrounding tribes are bidden to this festival. More
than that, sometimes when a great [Page 2] Tyee
celebrates for his daughter, the tribes from far up
the coast, from the distant north, from inland, from
the island, from the Cariboo country, are gathered as
guests to the feast. During these days of rejoicing,
the girl is placed in a high seat, an exalted position,
for is she not marriageable? And does not marriage mean
motherhood? And does not motherhood mean a vaster nation
of brave sons and of gentle daughters, who, in their
turn, will give us sons and daughters of their own?
“But it was many thousands
of years ago that a great Tyee had two daughters that
grew to womanhood at the same springtime, when the first
great run of salmon thronged the rivers, and the ollallie
bushes were heavy with blossoms. These two daughters
were young, lovable, and oh! very beautiful. Their father,
the great Tyee, prepared to make a feast such as the
Coast had never seen. There were to be days and days
of rejoicing, the people were to come for many leagues,
were to bring gifts to the girls and to receive gifts
of great value from the Chief, and hospitality was to
reign as long as pleasuring feet could dance, and enjoying
lips could laugh, and mouths partake of the excellence
of the Chief’s fish, game and ollallies.
“The only shadow on the
joy of it all was war, for the tribe of the great Tyee
was at war with the Upper Coast Indians, those who lived
north, near what is named by the Paleface as the port
of Prince Rupert. Giant war canoes slipped along the
entire coast, war parties paddled up and down, war songs
broke the silences of the nights, hatred, vengeance,
strife, horror festered everywhere like sores on the
surface of the earth. But the great Tyee, after warring
for weeks, turned and laughed at the battle and the
bloodshed, for he had been victor in every encounter,
and he could well afford to leave the strife for a brief
week and feast in his daughters’ honor, nor permit
any mere enemy to come between him and the traditions
of his race and household. So he turned insultingly
deaf ears to their war cries; he ignored with arrogant
indifference [Page 3] their paddle
dips that encroached within his own coast waters, and
he prepared, as a great Tyee should, to royally entertain
his tribesmen in honor of his daughters.
“But
seven suns before the great feast, these two maidens
came before him, hand clasped in hand.
“‘Oh! our father,’
they said, ‘may we speak?’
“‘Speak, my daughters,
my girls with the eyes of April, the hearts of June’”
(early spring and early summer would be the more accurate
Indian phrasing).
“‘Some day, Oh!
our father, we may mother a man child, who may grow
to be just such a powerful Tyee as you are, and for
this honor that may some day be ours we have come to
crave a favour of you—you, Oh! our father.’
“‘It is your privilege
at this celebration to receive any favour your hearts
may wish,’ he replied graciously, placing his
fingers beneath their girlish chins. ‘The favour
is yours before you ask it, my daughters.’
“‘Will you, for
our sakes, invite the great northern hostile tribe—the
tribe you war upon—to this, our feast?’
they asked fearlessly.
“‘To a peaceful
feast, a feast in the honor of women?’ he exclaimed
incredulously.
“‘So we would desire
it,’ they answered.
“‘And so shall it
be,’ he declared. ‘I can deny you nothing
this day, and some time you may bear sons to bless this
peace you have asked, and to bless their mother’s
sire for granting it.’ Then he turned to all the
young men of the tribe and commanded, ‘Build fires
at sunset on all the coast headlands—fires of
welcome. Man your canoes and face the north, greet the
enemy, and tell them that I, the Tyee of the Capilanos,
ask—no, command that they join me for a great
feast in honor of my two daughters.’ And when
the northern tribes got this invitation they flocked
down the coast to this feast of a Great Peace. They
brought their women and their children: they brought
game and fish, gold and white stone beads, baskets and
carven ladles, and wonderful woven blankets to lay at
the feet of their now [Page 4] acknowledged
ruler, the great Tyee. And he, in turn, gave such a
potlatch that nothing but tradition can vie with it.
There were long, glad days of joyousness, long pleasurable
nights of dancing and camp fires, and vast quantities
of food. The war canoes were emptied of their deadly
weapons and filled with the daily catch of salmon. The
hostile war songs ceased, and in their place were heard
the soft shuffle of dancing feet, the singing voices
of women, the play-games of the children of two powerful
tribes which had been until now ancient enemies, for
a great and lasting brotherhood was sealed between them—their
war songs were ended for ever.
“Then the Sagalie Tyee
smiled on His Indian children: ‘I will make these
young-eyed maidens immortal,’ He said. In the
cup of His hands He lifted the Chief’s two daughters
and set them forever in a high place, for they had borne
two offspring—Peace and Brotherhood—each
of which is now a great Tyee ruling this land.
“And on the mountain crest
the chief’s daughters can be seen wrapped in the
suns, the snows, the stars of all seasons, for they
have stood in this high place for thousands of years,
and will stand for thousands of years to come, guarding
the peace of the Pacific Coast and the quiet of the
Capilano Canyon.”
*
*
* *
*
*
This is
the Indian legend of “The Lions of Vancouver”
as I had it from one who will tell me no more the traditions
of his people. [Page
5]
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