CHAPTER VI.

GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE INDIANS.

The Indian considers himself as a being created by an all-powerful, wise, and benevolent Mannitto;[114] all that he possesses, all that he enjoys, he looks upon as given to him or allotted for his use by the Great Spirit who gave him life: he therefore believes it to be his duty to adore and worship his Creator and benefactor; to acknowledge with gratitude his past favours, thank him for present blessings, and solicit the continuation of his good will.[115]

As beings who have control over all beasts and living creatures, they feel their importance; before they saw white people or men of a different colour from their own, they considered themselves as God’s favourites, and believed that if the Great Mannitto could reside on earth he would associate with them and be their great chief.

The Indian also believes, that he is highly favoured by his Maker, not only in having been created different in shape and in mental and bodily powers from other animals, but in being enabled to controul and master them all, even those of an enormous size and of the most ferocious kinds; and therefore, when he worships his Creator in his way, he does not omit in his supplications to pray that he may be endowed with courage to fight and conquer his enemies, among whom he includes all savage beasts; and when he has performed some heroic act, he will not forget to acknowledge it as a mark of divine favour, by making a sacrifice to the great and good Mannitto, or by publicly announcing that his success was entirely owing to the courage given him by the all-powerful Spirit. Thus, habitual devotion to the great First Cause, and a strong feeling of gratitude for the benefits which he confers, is one of the prominent traits which characterise the mind of the untutored Indian.

Not satisfied with paying this first of duties to the Lord of all, in the best manner they are able, the Indians also endeavour to fulfil the views which they suppose he had in creating the world. They think that he made the earth and all that it contains for the common good of mankind; when he stocked the country that he gave them with plenty of game, it was not for the benefit of a few, but of all. Every thing was given in common to the sons of men. Whatever liveth on the land, whatsoever groweth out of the earth, and all that is in the rivers and waters flowing through the same, was given jointly to all, and every one is entitled to his share. From this principle, hospitality flows as from its source. With them it is not a virtue but a strict duty. Hence they are never in search of excuses to avoid giving, but freely supply their neighbour’s wants from the stock prepared for their own use. They give and are hospitable to all, without exception, and will always share with each other and often with the stranger, even to their last morsel. They rather would lie down themselves on an empty stomach, than have it laid to their charge that they had neglected their duty, by not satisfying the wants of the stranger, the sick or the needy. The stranger has a claim to their hospitality, partly on account of his being at a distance from his family and friends, and partly because he has honoured them by his visit, and ought to leave them with a good impression upon his mind; the sick and the poor because they have a right to be helped out of the common stock: for if the meat they have been served with, was taken from the woods, it was common to all before the hunter took it; if corn or vegetables, it had grown out of the common ground, yet not by the power of man, but by that of the Great Spirit. Besides, on the principle, that all are descended from one parent, they look upon themselves as but one great family, who therefore ought at all times and on all occasions, to be serviceable and kind to each other, and by that means make themselves acceptable to the head of the universal family, the great and good Mannitto. Let me be permitted to illustrate this by an example.

Some travelling Indians having in the year 1777, put their horses over night to pasture in my little meadow, at Gnadenhütten on the Muskingum, I called on them in the morning to learn why they had done so. I endeavoured to make them sensible of the injury they had done me, especially as I intended to mow the meadow in a day or two. Having finished my complaint, one of them replied: “My friend, it seems you lay claim to the grass my horses have eaten, because you had enclosed it with a fence: now tell me, who caused the grass to grow? Can _you_ make the grass grow? I think not, and no body can except the great Mannitto. He it is who causes it to grow both for my horses and for yours! See, friend! the grass which grows out of the earth is common to all; the game in the woods is common to all. Say, did you never eat venison and bear’s meat?--‘Yes, very often.’--Well, and did you ever hear me or any other Indian complain about that? No; then be not disturbed at my horses having eaten only once, of what you call _your_ grass, though the grass my horses did eat, in like manner as the meat you did eat, was given to the Indians by the Great Spirit. Besides, if you will but consider, you will find that my horses did not eat _all_ your grass. For friendship’s sake, however, I shall never put my horses in your meadow again.”

The Indians are not only just, they are also in many respects a generous people, and cannot see the sick and the aged suffer for want of clothing. To such they will give a blanket, a shirt, a pair of leggings, mocksens, &c. Otherwise, when they make presents, it is done with a view to receive an equivalent in return, and the receiver is given to understand what that ought to be. In making presents to strangers, they are content with some trifle in token of remembrance; but when they give any thing to a trader, they at least expect double the value in return, saying that he can afford to do it, since he had cheated them so often.

They treat each other with civility, and shew much affection on meeting after an absence. When they meet in the forenoon, they will compliment one another with saying, “a good morning to you!” and in the afternoon, “a good evening.” In the act of shaking hands with each other, they strictly attend to the distinguishing names of relations, which they utter at the time; as for instance, “a good morning, father, grandfather, uncle, aunt, cousin,” and so down to a small grandchild. They are also in the habit of saluting old people no ways related to them, by the names of grandfather and grandmother, not in a tone of condescending superiority or disguised contempt, but as a genuine mark of the respect which they feel for age. The common way of saluting where no relationship exists, is that of “friend;” when, however, the young people meet, they make use of words suitable to their years or stage in life; they will say “a good morning, comrade, favourite, beloved, &c.” Even the children salute each other affectionately. “I am glad to see you,” is the common way in which the Indians express themselves to one another after a short absence; but on meeting after a long absence, on the return of a messenger or a warrior from a critical or dangerous expedition, they have more to say; the former is saluted in the most cordial manner with some such expression: “I thank the Great Spirit, that he has preserved our lives to this time of our happily meeting again. I am, indeed, very glad to see you.” To which the other will reply: “you speak the truth; it is through the favour of the great and good Spirit that we are permitted to meet. I am equally glad to see you.” To the latter will be said: “I am glad that the Great Spirit has preserved your life and granted you a safe return to your family.”

They are not quarrelsome, and are always on their guard, so as not to offend each other. When one supposes himself hurt or aggrieved by a word which has inadvertently fallen from the mouth of another, he will say to him: “Friend, you have caused me to become jealous of you,” (meaning that he begins to doubt the sincerity of his friendship,) when the other explaining and saying that he had no bad intention, all is done away again.

They do not fight with each other; they say that fighting is only for dogs and beasts. They are, however, fond of play, and passing a joke, yet very careful that they do not offend.

They are ingenious in making satirical observations, which though they create laughter, do not, or but seldom give offence. For instance, seeing a bad hunter going out into the woods with his gun, they will ask him if he is going out for meat? or say to one another: “now we shall have meat, for such a one is gone a hunting,” (not believing any such thing.) If they see a coward joining a war party, they will ask him ironically at what time he intends to come back again? (knowing that he will return before he has met the enemy,) or they will say to one another: “will he return this way with his scalps?”

Genuine wit, which one would hardly expect to find in a savage people, is not unfrequent among them. I have heard them, for instance, compare the English and American nations to a pair of scissors, an instrument composed of two sharp edged knives exactly alike, working against each other for the same purpose, that of _cutting_. By the construction of this instrument, they said, it would appear as if in shutting, these two sharp knives would strike together and destroy each other’s edges; but no such thing: they only cut _what comes between them_. And thus the English and Americans do when they go to war against one another. It is not each other that they want to destroy, but us, poor Indians, that are between them. By this means they get our land, and, when that is obtained, the scissors are closed again, and laid by for further use.

They are remarkable for the particular respect which they pay to old age. In all their meetings, whether public or private, they pay the greatest attention to the observations and advice of the aged; no one will attempt to contradict them, nor to interfere in any manner or even to speak, unless he is specially called upon. “The aged,” they say, “have lived through the whole period of our lives, and long before we were born; they have not only all the knowledge we possess, but a great deal more. We, therefore, must submit our limited views to their experience.”

In travelling, one of the oldest will always take the lead, unless another is specially appointed for that purpose. If such a one stops to hunt, or in order to stay and encamp at the place for some time, all halt together, all are pleased with the spot and declare it to be judiciously chosen.

I shall expatiate further on this interesting part of the Indian character, in the sequel of this work.

They have a strong innate sense of justice, which will lead them sometimes to acts which some men will call heroic, others romantic, and not a few, perhaps, will designate by the epithet _barbarous_; a vague indefinite word, which if it means anything, might, perhaps, be best explained by _something not like ourselves_. However that may be, this feeling certainly exists among the Indians, and as I cannot describe it better than by its effects, I shall content myself with relating on this subject a characteristic anecdote which happened in the year 1793, at an Indian village called _La Chine_, situated nine miles above Montreal, and was told me in the same year by Mr. La Ramée, a French Canadian inhabitant of that place, whom I believe to be a person of strict veracity. I was then on my return from Detroit, in company with General Lincoln and several other gentlemen, who were present at the relation, and gave it their full belief. I thought it then so interesting, that I inserted it in my journal, from which I now extract it.

There were in the said village of La Chine two remarkable Indians, the one for his stature, being six feet four inches in height, and the other for his strength and activity. These two meeting together one day in the street, (a third being present,) the former in a high tone made use of some insulting language to the other, which he could not well put up with: he called him a coward, said he was his inferior in every respect, and so provoked his anger, that unable any longer to contain himself, the latter instantly replied: “You have grossly insulted me; but I will prevent you from doing the like again!” and at the same moment stabbed him through the body with his knife, so that he dropped down dead by his side. The alarm being immediately spread through the village, a crowd of Indians assembled, and the murderer having seated himself on the ground by the side of the dead body, coolly awaited his fate, which he could not expect to be any other than immediate death, particularly as the cry of the people was, “Kill him! Kill him!” But although he placed his body and head in a proper posture to receive the stroke of the tomahawk, no one attempted to lay hands on him; but after removing the dead body from where it lay, they left him alone. Not meeting here with his expected fate, he rose from this place for a more public part of the village, and there lay down on the ground in the hope of being the sooner despatched; but the spectators, after viewing him, all retired again. Sensible that his life was justly forfeited, and anxious to be relieved from a state of suspense, he took the resolution to go to the mother of the deceased, an aged widow, whom he addressed in these words: “Woman, I have killed thy son; he had insulted me, it is true; but still he was thine, and his life was valuable to thee. I, therefore, now surrender myself up to thy will. Direct as thou wilt have it, and relieve me speedily from misery.” To which the woman answered: “Thou hast, indeed, killed my son, who was dear to me, and the only supporter I had in my old age. One life is already lost, and to take thine on that account, cannot be of any service to me, nor better my situation. Thou hast, however, a son, whom, if thou wilt give me in the place of my son, whom thou hast slain, all shall be wiped away.” The murderer then replied: “Mother, my son is yet but a child, ten years old, and can be of no service to thee, but rather a trouble and charge; but here am I, truly capable of supporting and maintaining thee: if thou wilt receive me as thy son, nothing shall be wanting on my part to make thee comfortable while thou livest.” The woman approving of the proposal, forthwith adopted him as her son, and took the whole family to her house.

But we must now look to the other side of the picture. It cannot but be acknowledged that the Indians are in general revengeful and cruel to their enemies. That even after the battle is over, they wreak their deliberate revenge on their defenceless prisoners; that in their wars they are indifferent about the means which they pursue for the annoyance and destruction of their adversaries, and that surprise and stratagem are as often employed by them as open force. This is all true. Deprived of the light of the only true Christian Religion, unchecked by the precepts and unswayed by the example of the God of peace, they indulge too much, sometimes, the violence of their passions, and commit actions which force the tear from the eye of humanity. But, upon the whole, are we better than they are? I reserve this question for a separate chapter.