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AN
ACCOUNT
OF THE
CUSTOMS and MANNERS
OF THE
MICMAKIS and MARICHEETS
SAVAGE NATIONS,
Now Dependent on the
Government of CAPE-BRETON.
FROM
An Original French Manuscript-Letter,
Never Published,
Written by a French Abbot,
Who resided many Years, in quality of Missionary, amongst them.
To which are annexed,
Several Pieces, relative to the Savages, to Nova
Scotia, and to North-America in general.
* * * * *
LONDON:
Printed for S. Hooper and A. Morley at Gay's-Head,
near Beaufort-Buildings in the Strand. MDCCLVIII.
PREFACE.
For the better understanding of the letter immediately following, it may
not be unnecessary to give the reader some previous idea of the people
who are the subject of it, as well of the letter-writer.
The best account of the _Mickmakis_ I could find, and certainly the most
authentic, is in a memorial furnished by the French ministry in April,
1751, from which the following paragraph is a translated extract:
"The government of the savages dependent on Cape-Breton exacts a
particular attention. All these savages go under the name of
_Mickmakis_. Before the last war they could raise about six hundred
fighting-men, according to an account given in to his most Christian
majesty, and were distributed in several villages established on
Cape-Breton island, island of St. John, on both the coasts of Acadia
(Nova-Scotia) and on that of Canada. All, or most of the inhabitants of
these villages have been instructed in the Christian religion, by
missionaries which the king of France constantly maintains amongst them.
It is customary to distribute every year to them presents, in the name
of his majesty, which consist in arms, ammunition of war, victuals,
cloathing, and utensils of various sorts. And these presents are
regulated according to the circumstances of the time, and to the
satisfaction that shall have been given to the government by the conduct
of these savages. In the last war they behaved so as to deserve our
approbation, and indeed have, on all occasions, given marks of their
attachment and fidelity. Since the peace too, they have equally
distinguished themselves in the disturbances that are on foot on the
side of Acadia (Nova-Scotia)."
The last part of this foregoing paragraph needs no comment. Every one
knows by what sort of service these savages merit the encouragement of
the French government, and by what acts of perfidy and cruelty exercised
on the English, they are to earn their reward.
The _Maricheets_, mentioned in the said letter form a distinct nation,
chiefly settled at St. John's, and are often confounded with the
_Abenaquis_, so as to pass for one nation with them, though there is
certainly some distinction. They used, till lately, to be in a constant
state of hostility with the Mickmakis. But, however, these nations may
be at peace or variance with one another, in one point they agree, which
is a thorough enmity to the English, cultivated, with great application
by the missionaries, who add to the scandal of a conduct so contrary to
their profession, the baseness of denying or evading the charge by the
most pitiful equivocations. It is with the words peace, charity, and
universal benevolence, for ever in their mouths, that these
incendiaries, by instigations direct and indirect, inflame and excite
the savages to commit the cruellest outrages of war, and the blackest
acts of treachery. Poor Captain How! is well known to have paid with his
life, infamously taken away by them, at a parley, the influence one of
these missionaries (now a prisoner in the island of Jersey,) had over
these misguided wretches, whose native innocence and simplicity are not
proof against the corruption, and artful suggestions of those holy
seducers.
It would not, perhaps, be impossible for the English, if they were to
apply proper means, and especially lenient ones, to recover the
affections of these people, which, for many reasons, cannot be entirely
rooted in the French interest. That great state-engine of theirs,
religion, by which they have so strong a hold on the weak and credulous
savages, might not, however, be an invincible bar to our success, if it
was duly counter-worked by the offer of a much more pure and rational
one of our own, joined to such temporal advantages as would shew them
their situation capable of being much meliorated, in every respect; and
especially that of freedom, which they cannot but be sensible, is daily
decreasing under the insidious encroachments and blandishments of the
French, who never cares but to enslave, nor hug but to stifle, whose
pretences, in short, to superior humanity and politeness, are not
amongst their least arts of conquest.
As to the letter-writer, he is an abbot much respected in those parts,
who has resided the greatest part of his life amongst the Mickmakis, and
is perfectly acquainted with their language, in the composing of a
Dictionary of which he has labored eighteen or twenty years; but I
cannot learn that it is yet published, and probably for reasons of
state, it never may. The letter, of which the translation is now given,
exists only in a manuscript, having never been printed, being entirely
written for the satisfaction of a friend's curiosity, in relation to the
original manners and customs of the people of which it treats, and
which, being those of savages in the primitive state of unpolished
nature, may perhaps, to a philosophical enquirer, afford more amusement
and instruction than those of the most refined societies. What man
really is, appears at least plainer in the uncultivated savage, than in
the civilized European.
The account of Acadia (Nova-Scotia) will, it is to be hoped, appear not
uncurious; allowance being made for its being only in form of a letter.
A
LETTER, &c.
_Micmaki-Country_, March 27, 1755.
SIR,
I should long before now have satisfied you in those points of curiosity
you expressed, concerning the savages amongst whom I have so long
resided, if I could have found leisure for it. Literally true it is,
that I have no spare time here, unless just in the evening, and that not
always. This was my case too in Louisbourg; and I do not doubt but you
will be surprised at learning, that I enjoy as little rest here as
there.
Had you done me, Sir, the honor of passing with me but three days only,
you would soon have seen what sort of a nation it is that I have to deal
with. I am obliged to hold frequent and long parleys with them, and, at
every occasion, to heap upon them the most fair and flattering promises.
I must incessantly excite them to the practice of acts of religion, and
labor to render them tractable, sociable, and loyal to the king (of
France). But especially, I apply myself to make them live in good
understanding with the French.
With all this, I affect a grave and serious air, that awes and imposes
upon them. I even take care of observing measure and cadence in the
delivery of my words, and to make choice of those expressions the
properest to strike their attention, and to hinder what I say from
falling to the ground. If I cannot boast that my harangues have all the
fruit and success that I could wish, they are not however wholly without
effect. As nothing inchants those people more than a style of metaphors
and allegories, in which even their common conversation abounds, I adapt
myself to their taste, and never please them better than when I give
what I say this turn, speaking to them in their own language. I borrow
the most lively images from those objects of nature, with which they are
so well acquainted; and am rather more regular than even themselves, in
the arrangement of my phrases. I affect, above all, to rhime as they do,
especially at each member of a period. This contributes to give them so
great an idea of me, that they imagine this gift of speaking is rather
an inspiration, than an acquisition by study and meditation. In truth, I
may venture to say, without presumption, that I talk the _Micmaki_
language as fluently, and as elegantly, as the best of their women, who
most excel in this point.
Another of my occupations is to engage and spur them on to the making a
copious chace, when the hunting-season comes in, that their debts to the
dealers with them may be paid, their wives and children cloathed, and
their credit supported.
It is neither gaming nor debauchery that disable them from the payment
of their debts, but their vanity, which is excessive, in the presents of
peltry they make to other savages, who come either in quality of envoys
from one country to another, or as friends or relations upon a visit to
one another. Then it is, that a village is sure to exhaust itself in
presents; it being a standing rule with them, on the arrival of such
persons, to bring out every thing that they have acquired, during the
winter and spring season, in order to give the best and most
advantageous idea of themselves. Then it is chiefly they make feasts,
which sometimes last several days; of the manner of which I should
perhaps spare you the description, if the ceremony that attends them did
not include the strongest attestation of the great stress they lay on
hunting; the excelling wherein they commonly take for their text in
their panegyrics on these occasions, and consequently enters, for a
great deal, into the idea you are to conceive of the life and manners of
the savages in these parts.
The first thing I am to observe to you is, that one of the greatest
dainties, and with which they crown their entertainments, is the flesh
of dogs. For it is not till the envoys, friends, or relations, are on
the point of departure, that, on the eve of that day, they make a
considerable slaughter of dogs, which they slea, draw, and, with no
other dressing, put whole into the kettle; from whence they take them
half boiled, and carve out into as many pieces as there are guests to
eat of them, in the cabbin of him who gives the treat. But every one,
before entering the cabbin, takes care to bring with him his _Oorakin_,
or bowl, made of bark of birch-tree, either polygone shaped, or quite
round; and this is practised at all their entertainments. These pieces
of dogs flesh are accompanied with a small _Oorakin_ full of the oil or
fat of seal, or of elk's grease, if this feast is given at the
melting-time of the snow. Every one has his own dish before him, in
which he sops his flesh before he eats it. If the fat be hard, he cuts a
small piece of it to every bit of flesh he puts into his mouth, which
serves as bread with us. At the end of this fine regale, they drink as
much of the oil as they can, and wipe their hands on their hair. Then
come in the wives of the master and persons invited, who carry off their
husbands plates, and retire together to a separate place, where they
dispatch the remains.
After grace being said by the oldest of the company, who also never
fails of pronouncing it before the meal, the master of the treat appears
as if buried in a profound contemplation, without speaking a word, for a
full quarter of an hour; after which, waking as it were out of a deep
sleep, he orders in the _Calumets_, or _Indian_ pipes, with tobacco.
First he fills his own, lights it, and, after sucking in two or three
whiffs, he presents it to the most considerable man in the company:
after which, every one fills his pipe and smoaks.
The calumets lighted, and the tobacco burning with a clear fire, are
scarce half smoked out, before the man of note before mentioned (for the
greatest honors being paid him) gets up, places himself in the midst of
the cabbin, and pronounces a speech of thanksgiving. He praises the
master of the feast, who has so well regaled him and all the company. He
compares him to a tree, whose large and strong roots afford nourishment
to a number of small shrubs; or to a salutary medicinal herb, found
accidentally by such as frequent the lakes in their canoes. Some I have
heard, who, in their winter-feasts, compared him to the turpentine-tree,
that never fails of yielding its sap and gummy distillation in all
seasons: others to those temperate and mild days, which are sometimes
seen in the midst of the severest winter. They employ a thousand
similies of this sort, which I omit. After this introduction, they
proceed to make honorable mention of the lineage from which the matter
of the feast is descended.
"How great (will the oldest of them say) art thou, through thy great,
great, great grand-father, whose memory is still recent, by tradition,
amongst us, for the plentiful huntings he used to make! There was
something of miraculous about him, when he assisted at the beating of
the woods for elks, or other beasts of the fur. His dexterity at
catching this game was not superior to our's; but there was some
unaccountable secret he particularly possessed in his manner of seizing
those creatures, by springing upon them, laying hold of their heads, and
transfixing them at the same time with his hunting-spear, though thrice
as strong and as nimble again as he was, and much more capable with
their legs only, than we with our rackets [a sort of buskined shoes made
purposely for the Indian travels over the snow], to make their way over
mountains of snow: he would nevertheless follow them, dart them, without
ever missing his aim, tire them out with his chace, bring them down, and
mortally wound them. Then he would regale us with their blood, skin
them, and deliver up the carcass to us to cut to pieces. But if thy
great, great, great grand-father made such a figure in the chace, what
has not thy great, great grand-father done with respect to the beavers,
those animals almost men? whose industry he surpassed by his frequent
watchings round their cabbins, by the repeated alarms he would give them
several times in one evening, and oblige them thereby to return home, so
that he might be sure of the number of those animals he had seen
dispersed during the day, having a particular foresight of the spot to
which they would come to load their tails with earth, cut down with
their teeth such and such trees for the construction of their huts. He
had a particular gift of knowing the favorite places of those animals
for building them. But now let us rather speak of your great
grand-father, who was so expert at making of snares for moose-deer,
martins, and elks. He had particular secrets, absolutely unknown to any
but himself, to compel these sort of creatures to run sooner into his
snares than those of others; and he was accordingly always so well
provided with furs, that he was never at a loss to oblige his friends.
Now let us come to your grand-father, who has a thousand and a thousand
times regaled the youth of his time with seals. How often in our young
days have we greased our hair in his cabbin? How often have we been
invited, and even compelled by his friendly violence, to go home with
him, whenever we returned with our canoes empty, to be treated with
seal, to drink the oil, and anoint ourselves with it? He even pushed his
generosity so far, as to give us of the oil to take home with us. But
now we are come to your father: there was a man for you! He used to
signalize himself in every branch of chace; but especially in the art of
shooting the game whether flying or sitting. He never missed his aim. He
was particularly admirable for decoying of bustards by his artificial
imitations. We are all of us tolerably expert at counterfeiting the cry
of those birds; but as to him, he surpassed us in certain inflexions, of
his voice, that made it impossible to distinguish his cry from that of
the birds themselves. He had, besides, a particular way of motion with
his body, that at a distance might be taken for the clapping of their
wings, insomuch that he has often deceived ourselves, and put us to
confusion, as he started out of his hiding-place.
"As for thyself, I say nothing, I am too full of the good things thou
hast feasted me with, to treat on that subject; but I thank thee, and
take thee by the hand, leaving to my fellow-guests the care of
acquitting themselves of that duty."
After this, he sits down, and some other younger, and in course of less
note, for they pay great respect to age, gets up, and makes a summary
recapitulation of what the first speaker has said; commending his manner
of singing the praises of the master of the feast's ancestors: to which
he observes, there is nothing to be added; but that he has, however,
left him one part of the task to be accomplished, which is, not to pass
over in silence the feast to which he and the rest of his brethren are
invited; neither to omit the merit and praises of him who has given the
entertainment. Then quitting his place, and advancing in cadence, he
takes the master of the treat by the hand, saying, "All the praises my
tongue is about to utter, have thee for their object. All the steps I am
going to take, as I dance lengthwise and breadthwise in thy cabbin, are
to prove to thee the gaiety of my heart, and my gratitude. Courage! my
friends, keep time with your motions and voice, to my song and dance."
With this he begins, and proceeds in his _Netchkawet_, that is,
advancing with his body strait erect, in measured steps, with his arms
a-kimbo. Then he delivers his words, singing and trembling with his
whole body, looking before and on each side of him with a steady
countenance, sometimes moving with a slow grave pace, then again with a
quick and brisk one.
The syllables he articulates the most distinctly are, _Ywhannah, Owanna,
Haywanna, yo! ha! yo! ha!_ and when he makes a pause he looks full at
the company, as much as to demand their chorus to the word _Heh!_ which
he pronounces with great emphasis. As he is singing and dancing they
often repeat the word _Heh!_ fetched up from the depth of their throat;
and when he makes his pause, they cry aloud in chorus, _Hah!_
After this prelude, the person who had sung and danced recovers his
breath and spirits a little, and begins his harangue in praise of the
maker of the feast. He flatters him greatly, in attributing to him a
thousand good qualities he never had, and appeals to all the company for
the truth of what he says, who are sure not to contradict him, being in
the same circumstance as himself of being treated, and answer him by the
word _Heh_, which is as much as to say, _Yes_, or _Surely_. Then he
takes them all by the hand, and begins his dance again: and sometimes
this first dance is carried to a pitch of madness. At the end of it he
kisses his hand, by way of salute to all the company; after which he
goes quietly to his place again. Then another gets up to acquit himself
of the same duty, and so do successively all the others in the cabbin,
to the very last man inclusively.
This ceremony of thanksgiving being over by the men, the girls and women
come in, with the oldest at the head of them, who carries in her left
hand a great piece of birch-bark of the hardest, upon which she strikes
as it were a drum; and to that dull sound which the bark returns, they
all dance, spinning round on their heels, quivering, with one hand
lifted, the other down: other notes they have none, but a guttural loud
aspiration of the word Heh! Heh! Heh! as often as the old female savage
strikes her bark-drum. As soon as she ceases striking, they set up a
general cry, expressed by Yah! Then, if their dance is approved, they
begin it again; and when weariness obliges the old woman to withdraw,
she first pronounces her thanksgiving in the name of all the girls and
women there. The introduction of which is too curious to omit, as it so
strongly characterises the sentiments of the savages of that sex, and
confirms the general observation, that where their bosom once harbours
cruelty, they carry it greater lengths than even the men, whom
frequently they instigate to it.
"You men! who look on me as of an infirm and weak sex, and consequently
of all necessity subordinate to you, know that in what I am, the Creator
has given to my share, talents and properties at least of as much worth
as your's, I have had the faculty of bringing into the world warriors,
great hunters, and admirable managers of canoes. This hand, withered as
you see it now, whose veins represent the root of a tree, has more than
once struck a knife into the hearts of the prisoners, who were given up
to me for my sport. Let the river-sides, I say, for I call them to
witness for me, as well as the woods of such a country, attest their
having seen me more than once tear out the heart, entrails, and tongue,
of those delivered up to me, without changing color, roast pieces of
their flesh, yet palpitating and warm with life, and cram them down the
throats of others, whom the like fate awaited. With how many scalps have
not I seen my head adorned, as well as those of my daughters! With what
pathetic exhortations have not I, upon occasion, rouzed up the spirit of
our young men, to go in quest of the like trophies, that they might
atchieve the reward, honor, and renown annexed to the acquisition of
them: but it is not in these points alone that I have signalized myself.
I have often brought about alliances, which there was no room to think
could ever be made; and I have been so fortunate, that all the couples
whose marriages I have procured, have been prolific, and furnished our
nation with supports, defenders, and subjects, to eternize our race, and
to protect us from the insults of our enemies. These old firs, these
antient spruce-trees, full of knots from the top to the root, whose bark
is falling off with age, and who yet preserve their gum and powers of
life, do not amiss resemble me. I am no longer what I was; all my skin
is wrinkled and furrowed, my bones are almost every where starting
through it. As to my outward form, I may well be reckoned amongst the
things, fit for nothing but to be totally neglected and thrown aside;
but I have still within me wherewithal to attract the attention of those
who know me."
After this introduction follow the thanksgiving and encomiums, much in
the same taste as the first haranguer's amongst the guests. This is what
is practised in all the more solemn entertainments, both on the men and
women's side. Nor can you imagine, how great an influence such praises
have over them, derived as they are from the merit of hunting, and how
greatly they contribute to inflame their passion for it. Nor is it
surprising, considering how much almost the whole of their livelihood
depends upon the game of all sorts that is the object of their chace.
They have also a kind of feasts, which may be termed war-feasts, since
they are never held but in time of war, declared, commenced, or
resolved. The forms of these are far different from those of pacific and
friendly entertainments. There is a mixture of devotion and ferocity in
them, which at the same time that it surprises, proves that they
consider war in a very solemn light, and as not to be begun without the
greatest reason and justice; which motives, once established, or, which
is the same thing, appearing to them established, there is nothing they
do not think themselves permitted against their enemy, from whom they,
on the other hand, expect no better quarter than they themselves give.
To give you an idea of their preparatory ceremony for a declaration of
war, I shall here select for you a recent example, in the one that broke
out not long ago between the Micmaquis, and Maricheets. These last had
put a cruel affront on the former, the nature of which you will see in
the course of the following description: but I shall call the Micmaquis
the aggressors, because the first acts of hostility in the field began
from them. Those who mean to begin the war, detach a certain number of
men to make incursions on the territories of their enemies, to ravage
the country, to destroy the game on it, and ruin all the beaver-huts
they can find on their rivers and lakes, whether entirely, or only
half-built. From this expedition they return laden with game and peltry;
upon which the whole nation assembles to feast on the meat, in a manner
that has more of the carnivorous brute in it than of the human creature.
Whilst they are eating, or rather devouring, all of them, young and old,
great and little, engage themselves by the sun, the moon, and the name
of their ancestors, to do as much by the enemy-nation.
When they have taken care to bring off with them a live beast, from the
quarter in which they have committed their ravage, they cut its throat,
drink its blood, and even the boys with their teeth tear the heart and
entrails to pieces, which they ravenously devour, giving thereby to
understand, that those of the enemies who shall fall into their hands,
have no better treatment to expect at them.
After this they bring out _Oorakins_, (bowls of bark) full of that
coarse vermillion which is found along the coast of Chibucto, and on the
west-side of Acadia (Nova-Scotia) which they moisten with the blood of
the animal if any remains, and add water to compleat the dilution. Then
the old, as well as the young, smear their faces, belly and back with
this curious paint; after which they trim their hair shorter, some of
one side of the head, some of the other; some leave only a small tuft on
the crown of their head; others cut their hair entirely off on the left
or right side of it; some again leave nothing on it but a lock, just on
the top of their forehead, and of the breadth of it, that falls back on
the nape of the neck. Some of them bore their ears, and pass through the
holes thus made in them, the finest fibril-roots of the fir, which they
call _Toobee_, and commonly use for thread; but on this occasion serve
to string certain small shells. This military masquerade, which they use
at once for terror and disguise, being compleated, all the peltry of the
beasts killed in the enemy's country, is piled in a heap; the oldest
_Sagamo_, or chieftain of the assembly gets up, and asks, "What weather
it is? Is the sky clear? Does the sun shine?" On being answered in the
affirmative, he orders the young men to carry the pile of peltry to a
rising-ground, or eminence, at some little distance from the cabbin, or
place of assembly. As this is instantly done, he follows them, and as he
walks along begins, and continues his address to the sun in the
following terms:
"Be witness, thou great and beautiful luminary, of what we are this day
going to do in the face of thy orb! If thou didst disapprove us, thou
wouldst, this moment, hide thyself, to avoid affording the light of thy
rays to all the actions of this assembly. Thou didst exist of old, and
still existeth. Thou remainest for ever as beautiful, as radiant, and as
beneficent, as when our first fore fathers beheld thee. Thou wilt always
be the same. The father of the day can never fail us, he who makes every
thing vegetate, and without whom cold, darkness, and horror, would every
where prevail. Thou knowest all the iniquitous procedure of our enemies
towards us. What perfidy have they not used, what deceit have they not
employed, whilst we had no room to distrust them? There are now more
than five, six, seven, eight moons revolved since we left the principal
amongst our daughters with them, in order thereby to form the most
durable alliance with them, (for, in short, we and they are the same
thing as to our being, constitution, and blood); and yet we have seen
them look on these girls of the most distinguished rank,
_Kayheepidetchque_, as mere playthings for them, an amusement, a pastime
put by us into their hands, to afford them a quick and easy consolation,
for the fatal blows we had given them in the preceding war. Yet, we had
made them sensible, that this supply of our principal maidens was, in
order that they should re-people their country more honorably, and to
put them under a necessity of conviction, that we were now become
sincerely their friends, by delivering to them so sacred a pledge of
amity, as our principal blood. Can we then, unmoved, behold them so
basely abusing that thorough confidence of ours? Beautiful, all-seeing,
all-penetrating luminary! without whose influence the mind of man has
neither efficacy nor vigor, thou hast seen to what a pitch that nation
(who are however our brothers) has carried its insolence towards our
principal maidens. Our resentment would not have been so extreme with
respect to girls of more common birth, and the rank of whose fathers had
not a right to make such an impression on us. But here we are wounded in
a point there is no passing over in silence or unrevenged. Beautiful
luminary! who art thyself so regular in thy course, and in the wise
distribution thou makest of thy light from morning to evening, wouldst
thou have us not imitate thee? And whom can we better imitate? The earth
stands in need of thy governing thyself as thou dost towards it. There
are certain places, where thy influence does not suffer itself to be
felt, because thou dost not judge them worthy of it. But, as for us, it
is plain that we are thy children; for we can know no origin but that
which thy rays have given us, when first marrying efficaciously, with
the earth we inhabit, they impregnated its womb, and caused us to grow
out of it like the herbs of the field, and the trees of the forest, of
which thou art equally the common father. To imitate thee then, we
cannot do better than no longer to countenance or cherish those, who
have proved themselves so unworthy thereof. They are no longer, as to
us, under a favorable aspect. They shall dearly pay for the wrong they
have done us. They have not, it is true, deprived us of the means of
hunting for our maintenance and cloathing; they have not cut off the
free passage of our canoes, on the lakes and rivers of this country; but
they have done worse; they have supposed in us a tameness of sentiments,
which does not, nor cannot, exist in us. They have defloured our
principal maidens in wantonness, and lightly sent them back to us. This
is the just motive which cries out for our vengeance. Sun! be thou
favorable to us in this point, as thou art in that of our hunting, when
we beseech thee to guide us in quest of our daily support. Be propitious
to us, that we may not fail of discovering the ambushes that may be laid
for us; that we may not be surprized unawares in our cabbins, or
elsewhere; and, finally, that we may not fall into the hands of our
enemies. Grant them no chance with us, for they deserve none. Behold the
skins of their beasts now a burnt-offering to thee! Accept it, as if the
fire-brand I hold in my hands, and now set to the pile, was lighted
immediately by thy rays, instead of our domestic fire."
Every one of the assistants, as well men as women, listen attentively to
this invocation, with a kind of religious terror, and in a profound
silence. But scarce is the pile on a blaze, but the shouts and war-cries
begin from all parts. Curses and imprecations are poured forth without
mercy or reserve, on the enemy-nation. Every one, that he may succeed in
destroying any particular enemy he may have in the nation against which
war is declared, vows so many skins or furs to be burnt in the same
place in honor of the sun. Then they bring and throw into the fire, the
hardest stones they can find of all sizes, which are calcined in it.
They take out the properest pieces for their purpose, to be fastened to
the end of a stick, made much in the form of a hatchet-handle. They slit
it at one end, and fix in the cleft any fragment of those burnt stones,
that will best fit it, which they further secure, by binding it tightly
round with the strongest _Toobee_, or fibrils of fir-root
above-mentioned; and then make use of it, as of a hatchet, not so much
for cutting of wood, as for splitting the skull of the enemy, when they
can surprize him. They form also other instruments of war; such as long
poles, one of which is armed with bone of elk, made pointed like a
small-sword, and edge of both sides, in order to reach the enemy at a
distance, when he is obliged to take to the woods. The arrows are made
at the same time, pointed at the end with a sharp bone. The wood of
which these arrows are made, as well as the bows, must have been dried
at the mysterious fire, and even the guts of which the strings are made.
But you are here to observe, I am speaking of an incident that happened
some years ago; for, generally speaking, they are now better provided
with arms, and iron, by the Europeans supplying them, for their chace,
in favor of their dealings with them for their peltry. But to return to
my narration.
Whilst the fire is still burning, the women come like so many furies,
with more than bacchanalian madness, making the most hideous howlings,
and dancing without any order, round the fire. Then all their apparent
rage turns of a sudden against the men. They threaten them, that if they
do not supply them with scalps, they will hold them very cheap, and look
on them as greatly inferior to themselves; that they will deny
themselves to their most lawful pleasures; that their daughters shall be
given to none but such as have signalized themselves by some military
feat; that, in short, they will themselves find means to be revenged of
them, which cannot but be easy to do on cowards.
The men, at this, begin to parley with one another, and order the women
to withdraw, telling them, that they shall be satisfied; and that, in a
little time, they may expect to have prisoners brought to them, to do
what they will with them.
The next thing they agree on is to send a couple of messengers, in the
nature of heralds at arms, with their hatchets, quivers, bows, and
arrows, to declare war against the nation by whom they conceive
themselves aggrieved. These go directly to the village where the bulk of
the nation resides, observing a sullen silence by the way, without
speaking to any that may meet them. When they draw near the village,
they give the earth several strokes with their hatchets, as a signal of
commencing hostilities in form; and to confirm it the more, they shoot
two of their best arrows at the village, and retire with the utmost
expedition. The war is now kindled in good earnest, and it behoves each
party to stand well on its guard. The heralds, after this, return to
make a report of what they have done; and to prove their having been at
the place appointed, they do not fail of bringing away with them some
particular marks of that spot of the country. Then it is, that the
inhabitants of each nation begin to think seriously, whether they shall
maintain their ground by staying in their village, and fortifying it in
their manner, or look out for a place of greater safety, or go directly
in quest of the enemy. Upon these questions they assemble, deliberate,
and hold endless consultations, though withal not uncurious ones: for it
is on these occasions, that those of the greatest sagacity and eloquence
display all their talents, and make themselves distinguished. One of
their most common stratagems, when there were reasons for not attacking
one another, or coming to a battle directly, was for one side to make as
if they had renounced all thoughts of acting offensively. A party of
those who made this feint of renunciation, would disperse itself in a
wood, observing to keep near the borders of it; when, if any stragglers
of the enemy's appeared, some one would counterfeit to the life the
particular cry of that animal, in the imitation of which he most
excelled; and this childish decoy would, however, often succeed, in
drawing in the young men of the opposite party into their ambushes.
Sometimes the scheme was to examine what particular spot lay so, that
the enemies must, in all necessity, pass through it, to hunt, or provide
bark for making their canoes. It was commonly in these passes, or
defiles, that the bloodiest encounters or engagements happened, when
whole nations have been known to destroy one another, with such an
exterminating rage on both sides, that few have been left alive on
either; and to say the truth, they were, generally speaking, mere
cannibals. It was rarely the case that they did not devour some limbs,
at least, of the prisoners they made upon one another, after torturing
them to death in the most cruel and shocking manner: but they never
failed of drinking their blood like water; it is now, some time, that
our Micmakis especially are no longer in the taste of exercising such
acts of barbarity. I have, yet, lately myself seen amongst them some
remains of that spirit of ferocity; some tendencies and approaches to
those inhumanities; but they are nothing in comparison to what they used
to be, and seem every day wearing out. The religion to which we have
brought them over, and our remonstrances have greatly contributed to
soften that savage temper, and atrocious vindictiveness that heretofore
reigned amongst them. But remember, Sir, that as to this point I am now
only speaking, upon my own knowlege, of the Micmakis and Mariquects,
who, though different in language, have the same customs and manners,
and are of the same way of thinking and acting.
But to arrive at any tolerable degree of conjecture, whence these people
derive their origin own myself at a loss: possibly some light might be
got into it, by discovering whether there was any affinity or not
between their language, and that of the Orientalists, as the Chinese or
Tartars. In the mean time, the abundance of words in this language
surprized, and continues to surprize me every day the deeper I get into
it. Every thing is proper in it; nothing borrowed, as amongst us. Here
are no auxiliary verbs. The prepositions are in great number. This it is
that gives great ease, fluency, and richness to the expression of
whatever you require, when you are once master enough to join them to
the verbs. In all their absolute verbs they have a dual number. What we
call the imperfect, perfect, and preter-perfect tenses of the indicative
mood, admits, as with us, of varied inflexions of the terminations to
distinguish the person; but the difference of the three tenses is
express, for the preter-perfect by the preposition _Keetch_; for the
preter-pluperfect by _Keetch Keeweeh_: the imperfect is again
distinguished from them by having no preposition at all.
They have no feminine termination, either for the verbs or nouns. This
greatly facilitates to me my composition of songs and hymns for them,
especially as their prose itself naturally runs into poetry, from the
frequency of their tropes and metaphors; and into rhime, from their
nouns being susceptible of the same termination, as that of the words in
the verbs which express the different persons. In speaking of persons
absent, the words change their termination, as well in the nouns as in
the verbs.
They have two distinctions of style; the one noble, or elevated, for
grave and important subjects, the other ignoble, or trivial, for
familiar or vulgar ones. But this distinction is not so much with them,
as with us, marked by a difference of words, but of terminations. Thus,
when they are treating of solemn, or weighty matters, they terminate the
verb and the noun by another inflexion, than what is used for trivial or
common conversation.
I do not know, whether I explain clearly enough to you this so material
a point of their elocution; but it makes itself clearly distinguished,
when once one comes to understand the language, in which it supplies the
place of the most pathetic emphasis, though even that they do not want,
nor great expression in their gestures and looks. All their conjugations
are regular and distinct.
Yet, with all these advantages of language, the nation itself is
extreamly ignorant as to what concerns itself, or its origin, and their
traditions are very confused and defective. They know nothing of the
first peopling of their country, of which they imagine themselves the
Aborigines. They often talk of their ancestors, but have nothing to say
of them that is not vague or general. According to them, they were all
great hunters, great wood-rangers, expert managers of canoes, intrepid
warriors, that took to wives as many as they could maintain by hunting.
They had too a custom amongst them, that if a woman grew pregnant whilst
she was sucking a child, they obliged her to use means for procuring an
abortion, in favor of the first-come, who they supposed would otherwise
be defrauded of his due nourishment. Most of them also value themselves
on being descended from their Jugglers, who are a sort of men that
pretend to foretel futurity by a thousand ridiculous contorsions and
grimaces, and by frightful and long-winded howlings.
The great secret of these Jugglers consists in having a great _Oorakin_
full of water, from any river in which it was known there were
beaver-huts. Then he takes a certain number of circular turns round this
Oorakin, as it stands on the ground, pronouncing all the time with a low
voice, a kind of gibberish of broken words, unintelligible to the
assistants, and most probably so to himself, but which those, on whom he
means to impose, believe very efficacious. After this he draws near to
the bowl, and bending very low, or rather lying over it, looks at
himself in it as in a glass. If he sees the water in the least muddy, or
unsettled, he recovers his erect posture, and begins his rounds again,
till he finds the water as clear as he could wish it for his purpose,
and then he pronounces over it his magic words. If after having repeated
them twice or thrice, he does not find the question proposed to him
resolved by this inspection of the water, nor the wonders he wants
operated by it, he says with a loud voice and a grave tone, that the
_Manitoo_, or _Miewndoo_, (the great spirit) or genius, which, according
to them, has all knowledge of future events, would not declare himself
till every one of the assistants should have told him (the Juggler) in
the ear what were his actual thoughts, or greatest secret. [A Romish
missionary must, with a very bad grace, blame the Jugglers, for what
himself makes such a point of religion in his _auricular confession_.
Even the appellation of _Juggler_ is not amiss applicable to those of
their craft, considering all their tricks and mummery not a whit
superior to those of these poor savages, in the eyes of common-sense.
Who does not know, that the low-burlesque word of _Hocus-pocus_, is an
humorous corruption of their _Hoc est corpus meum_, by virtue of which,
they make a _God_ out of a vile wafer, and think it finely solved, by
calling it a _mystery_, which, by the way is but another name for
_nonsense_. Is there any thing amongst the savages half so absurd or so
impious?] To this purpose he gets up, laments, and bitterly inveighs
against the bad dispositions of those of the assistants, whose fault it
was, that the effects of his art were obstructed. Then going round the
company, he obliges them to whisper him in the ear, whatever held the
first place in their minds; and the simplicity of the greater number is
such, as to make them reveal to him what it would be more prudent to
conceal. By these means it is, that these artful Jugglers renders
themselves formidable to the common people, and by getting into the
secrets of most of the families of the nation, acquire a hank over them.
Some, indeed, of the most sensible see through this pitiful artifice,
and look on the Jugglers in their proper light of cheats, quacks, and
tyrants; but out of fear of their established influence over the bulk of
the nation, they dare not oppose its swallowing their impostures, or its
regarding all their miserable answers as so many oracles. When the
Juggler in exercise, has collected all that he can draw from the inmost
recesses of the minds of the assistants, he replaces himself, as before,
over the mysterious bowl of water, and now knows what he has to say.
Then, after twice or thrice laying his face close to the surface of the
water, and having as often made his evocations in uncouth,
unintelligible words, he turns his face to his audience, sometimes he
will say, "I can only give a half-answer upon such an article; there is
an obstacle yet unremoved in the way, before I can obtain an entire
solution, and that is, there are some present here who are in such and
such a case. That I may succeed in what is asked of me, and that
interests the whole nation, I appoint that person, without my knowing,
as yet, who it is, to meet me at such an hour of the night. I name no
place of assignation but will let him know by a signal of lighted fire,
where he may come to me, and suffer himself to be conducted wherever I
shall carry him. The _Manitoo_ orders me to spare his reputation, and
not expose him; for if there is any harm in it to him, there is also
harm to me."
Thus it is the Juggler has the art of imposing on these simple credulous
creatures, and even often succeeds by it in his divinations. Sometimes
he does not need all this ceremonial. He pretends to foretell off-hand,
and actually does so, when he is already prepared by his knowledge,
cunning, or natural penetration. His divinations chiefly turn on the
expedience of peace with one nation, or of war with another; upon
matches between families, upon the long life of some, or the short life
of others; how such and such persons came by their deaths, violently or
naturally; whether the wife of some great _Sagamo_ has been true to his
bed or not; who it could be that killed any particular persons found
dead of their wounds in the woods, or on the coast. Sometimes they
pretend it's the deed of the _Manitoo_, for reasons to them unknown:
this last incident strikes the people with a religious awe. But what the
Jugglers are chiefly consulted upon, and what gives them the greatest
credit, is to know whether the chace of such a particular species of
beasts should be undertaken; at what season, or on which side of the
country; how best may be discovered the designs of any nation with which
they are at war; or at what time such or such persons shall return from
their journey. The Juggler pretends to see all this, and more, in his
bowl of water: divination by coffee-grounds is a trifle to it. He is
also applied to, to know whether a sick person shall recover or die of
his illness. But what I have here told you of the procedure of these
Jugglers, you are to understand only of the times that preceded the
introduction of Christianity amongst these people, or of those parts
where it is not yet received: for these practices are no longer suffered
where we have any influence.
Amongst the old savages lately baptized, I could never, from the
accounts they gave me of the belief of their ancestors, find any true
_knowledge_ of the supreme Being; no idea, I mean, approaching to that
we have, or rather nothing but a vague imagination. They have, it is
true, a confused notion of a Being, acting they know not how [Who
does?], in the universe, but they do not make of him a great soul
diffused through all its parts. They have no conception or knowledge of
all the attributes we bestow on the Deity. Whenever they happen to
philosophize upon this _Manitoo_, or great spirit, they utter nothing
but _rêveries_ and absurdities. [Are not there innumerable volumes on
this subject, to which the same objection might as justly be made?
Possibly the savages, and the deepest divines, with respect to the
manner of the Deity's existence, may have, in point of ignorance,
nothing to reproach one another. It matters very little, whether one
sees the sun from the lowest valley, or the highest mountain, when the
immensity of its distance contracts the highest advantage of the
eminence to little less than nothing. Surely the infinite superiority of
the Deity, must still more effectually mock the distinction of the
mental eye, at the same time that his existence itself is as plain as
that of the sun, and like that too, dazzling those most, who contemplate
it most fixedly; reduces them to close the eye, not to exclude the
light, but as overpowered by it.]
Amongst other superstitious notions, not the least prevalent is that of
the _Manitoo_'s exercise of his power over the dead, whom he orders to
appear to them, and acquaint them with what passes at a distance, in
respect to their most important concerns; to advise them what they had
best do, or not do; to forewarn them of dangers, or to inspire them with
revenge against any nation that may have insulted them, and so forth.