CHAPTER XLIII.

ADVICE TO TRAVELLERS.

Nothing is so common as the indiscriminate charge laid upon travellers of relating strange and wonderful things for the mere purpose of exciting admiration and raising themselves into consequence. I believe for my part that this accusation is in general unjust as well as unfair, and that travellers seldom impose upon others except when they have been imposed upon themselves. The discredit which they have fallen into is more owing to their errors and mistakes than to wilful imposition and falsehood. It is therefore rendering them and the world an essential service to point out the means of avoiding those deceptions, which if not sufficiently guarded against, will at last destroy all belief in the accounts given by travellers of distant nations and of manners and customs different from our own.

The first and most important thing for a traveller is a competent knowledge of the language of the people among whom he is. Without this knowledge it is impossible that he can acquire a correct notion of their manners and customs and of the opinions which prevail among them. There is little faith to be placed in those numerous vocabularies of the languages of distant nations which are to be found in almost every book of voyages or travels; they are generally full of the most ridiculous mistakes; at least (for I must speak only of what I know) those which relate to the Indian languages of North America. I was some years ago shewn a vocabulary[243] of the idiom of the Indians who inhabited the banks of the Delaware, while Pennsylvania was under the dominion of the Swedes, which idiom was no other than the pure Unami dialect of the Lenape, and I could hardly refrain from laughing at the numerous errors that I observed in it; for instance, the Indian word given for _hand_ in fact means _finger_. This is enough to shew how carelessly those vocabularies are made, and how little their authors are acquainted with the languages that they pretend to teach.

The cause of these mistakes may be easily accounted for. When pointing to a particular object you ask an Indian how it is called, he never will give you the name of the _genus_, but always that of the _species_. Thus, if you point to a tree, and ask for its name, the answer will be oak, beech, chestnut, maple, &c., as the case may be. Thus the Swedish author of the vocabulary that I have mentioned, probably happened to point to a _finger_, when he asked what was the Indian word for _hand_, and on receiving the answer, without further enquiry enriched his work with this notable specimen of Indian learning.

When I first went to reside among the Indians, I took great care to learn by heart the words _Kœcu k’delloundamen yun?_ which means _What do you call this?_ Whenever I found the Indians disposed to attend to my enquiries, I would point to particular objects and repeat my formulary, and the answers that they gave I immediately wrote down in a book which I kept for the purpose; at last, when I had written about half a dozen sheets, I found that I had more than a dozen names for “_tree_” as many for “_fish_,” and so on with other things, and yet I had not a single generic name. What was still worse, when I pointed to something, repeating the name or one of the names by which I had been taught to call it, I was sure to excite a laugh; and when, in order to be set right, I put the question _Kœcu_, &c., I would receive for answer a new word or name which I had never heard before. This began to make me believe that everything was not as it should be, and that I was not in the right way to learn the Indian language.

It was not only in substantives or the proper names of things that I found myself almost always mistaken. Those who are not acquainted with the copiousness of the Indian languages, can hardly form an idea of the various shades and combinations of ideas that they can express. For instance, the infinitive _Mitzin_ signifies _to eat_, and so does _Mohoan_. Now although the first of these words is sufficiently expressive of the act of eating something, be it what it may, yet the Indians are very attentive to expressing in one word what and how they have eaten, that is to say whether they have been eating something which needed no chewing, as pottage, mush or the like, or something that required the use of the teeth. In the latter case the proper word is _mohoan_, and in the former _guntammen_. If an Indian is asked _k’dapi mitzi?_ have you eaten? he will answer _n’dapi guntammen_, or _n’dapi mohoa_, according as what he has eaten did or did not require the aid of chewing. If he has eaten of both kinds of provisions at his meal, he will then use the generic word, and say, _n’dapi mitzi_, which means generally, _I have eaten_.

These niceties of course escaped me, and what was worse, few of the words I had taken down were correctly written. Essential letters or syllables, which in the rapidity of pronunciation had escaped my ear, were almost everywhere omitted. When I tried to make use of the words which I had so carefully collected, I found I was not understood, and I was at a loss to discover the cause to which I might attribute my want of success in the earnest endeavours that I was making to acquire the Indian tongue.

At last there came an Indian, who was conversant with the English and German, and was much my friend. I hastened to lay before him my learned collection of Indian words, and was very much astonished when he advised me immediately to burn the whole, and write no more. “The first thing,” said he, “that you are to do to learn our language is to get an Indian _ear_; when that is obtained, no sound, no syllable will ever escape your hearing it, and you will at the same time learn the true pronunciation and how to accent your words properly; the rest will come of itself.” I found he was right. By listening to the natives, and repeating the words to myself as they spoke them, it was not many months before I ventured to converse with them, and finally understood every word they said. The Indians are very proud of a white man’s endeavouring to learn their language; they help him in everything that they can, and it is not their fault if he does not succeed.

The language, then, is the first thing that a traveller ought to endeavour to acquire, at least, so as to be able to make himself understood and to understand others. Without this indispensable requisite he may write about the soil, earth and stones, describe trees and plants that grow on the surface of the land, the birds that fly in the air and the fishes that swim in the waters, but he should by no means attempt to speak of the disposition and characters of the human beings who inhabit the country, and even of their customs and manners, which it is impossible for him to be sufficiently acquainted with. And indeed, even with the advantage of the language, this knowledge is not to be acquired in a short time, so different is the impression which new objects make upon us at first sight, and that which they produce on a nearer view. I could speak the Delaware language very fluently, but I was yet far from being well acquainted with the character and manners of the Lenape.

The Indians are very ready to answer the enquiries that are made respecting the usages of their country. But they are very much disgusted with the manner which they say some white people have of asking them questions on questions, without allowing them time to give a proper answer to any one of them. They, on the contrary, never ask a second question until they have received a full answer to the first. They say of those who do otherwise, that they seem as if they wished to know a thing, yet cared not whether they knew it correctly or properly. There are some men who before the Indians have well understood the question put to them, begin to write down their answers; of these they have no good opinion, thinking that they are writing something unfavourable of them.

There are men who will relate incredible stories of the Indians, and think themselves sufficiently warranted because they have Indian authority for it. But these men ought to know that all an Indian says is not to be relied upon as truth. I do not mean to say that they are addicted to telling falsehoods, for nothing is farther from their character; but they are fond of the marvellous, and when they find a white man inclined to listen to their tales of wonder, or credulous enough to believe their superstitious notions, there are always some among them ready to entertain him with tales of that description, as it gives them an opportunity of diverting themselves in their leisure hours, by relating such fabulous stories, while they laugh at the same time at their being able to deceive a people who think themselves so superior to them in wisdom and knowledge. They are fond of trying white men who come among them, in order to see whether they can act upon them in this way with success. Travellers who cannot speak their language, and are not acquainted with their character, manners and usages, should be more particularly careful not to ask them questions that touch in any manner upon their superstitious notions, or, as they are often considered even by themselves “fabulous amusements.” Nor should a stranger ever display an anxiety to witness scenes of this kind, but rather appear indifferent about them. In this manner he cannot be misled by interested persons or those who have formed a malicious design to deceive him. Whenever such a disposition appears (and it is not difficult to be discovered), questions of this kind should be reserved for another time, and asked in a proper manner before other persons, or of those who would be candid and perhaps let the enquirer into the secret.

I have been led to consider Carver, who otherwise is deserving of credit for the greatest part of what he has written on the character of the Indians, to have been imposed upon in the story which he relates of having learned by means of a conjurer (the chief priest of the Killistenoes, as he calls him) who pretended to have had a conversation with the great Spirit, the precise time when a canoe should come, and certain traders who had been long expected should arrive.[244] Had Carver resided a longer time among the Indians, so as to have acquired a more intimate acquaintance with their customs,[245] he would have known that they have one in particular (which I understand is universal among all the tribes), which would have easily explained to him what he thought so mysterious. Whenever they go out on a journey, whether far or near, and even sometimes when they go out on hunting parties, they always fix a day, on which they either will return, or their friends at home shall hear from them. They are so particular and punctual in “making their word true,” as they call it, that when they find that at the rate they are travelling, they would probably be at home a day or so sooner than the time appointed, they will rather lay by for that time than that their word should not be precisely made good. I have known instances when they might have arrived in very good time the day preceding that which they had appointed, but they rather chose to encamp for the night, though but a few miles distant from their home. They urge a variety of reasons for this conduct. In the first place, they are anxious not to occasion disappointment in any case when they can avoid it. They consider punctuality as an essential virtue, because, they say, much often depends upon it, particularly when they are engaged in wars. Besides, when the day of their return is certainly known, everything is prepared for their reception, and the family are ready with the best that they can provide to set before them on their arrival. If, however, unforeseen circumstances should prevent them from coming all on the same day, one, at least, or more of them, will be sure to arrive, from whom those at home will learn all that they wish to know.

On all important occasions, in which a tribe or body of Indians are concerned or interested, whether they are looking out for the return of an embassy sent to a distant nation, for messengers with an answer on some matter of consequence, for runners despatched by their spies who are watching an enemy’s motions, or for traders who at stated periods every year are sure to meet them at certain places, they always take proper and efficacious measures to prevent being surprised.

The case which appears to have excited so much astonishment in Captain Carver, I believe to have been simply this. The Indians[246] had at the season that he speaks of failed to arrive at the trading place at the time appointed. The Indians who had assembled there for the purpose of meeting them could not be ignorant of the cause of their delay, as they had, no doubt, learned it by the return of some of their runners sent out for that purpose, who, as is their custom, probably informed them that another set of runners would be in the next day with further advices. The priest must have known all this, and the precise spot where those fresh runners were to encamp the night preceding their arrival, which is always well known and understood by means of the regular chain of communication that is kept up. These runners say to each other, pointing to the heavens: “When the sun stands there, I will be here or at such a particular spot,” which they clearly designate. The information thus given is sure to reach in time the chiefs of the nation.

The manner in which this priest spoke to Captain Carver of his pretended intercourse with the great Spirit, clearly shews the deception that he was practising upon him. “The great Spirit,” said he, “has not indeed told me when the persons we expect will be here, but to-morrow, soon after the sun has reached his highest point in the heavens, a canoe will arrive, and the people in that will inform us when the traders will come.” The question, then, which he had put to the great Spirit, “when the traders would come?” was not answered, and there was no need of asking the Mannitto when the _canoes_ should come, for that must have been known already, and that the people in it would tell them where the traders were, and when they might be expected to arrive.

As in or about the year 1774, I was travelling with some Christian Indians, two Indians of the same nation, but strangers to us, fell in with us just as we were going to encamp, and joined us for the night. One of them was an aged grave-looking man, whom I was pleased to see in our company, and I flattered myself with obtaining some information from him, as, according to the Indian custom, age always takes the lead in conversation. I soon, however, perceived, to my great mortification, that he dwelt on subjects which I had neither a taste for nor an ear to hear; for his topic was the supernatural performances of Indians through the agency of an unseen Mannitto. I did not pay any attention to what he said, nor did any of our Christian Indians shew marks of admiration or astonishment at the stories he was telling, but sat in silence smoking their pipes. The speaker having, after an hour’s time, finished his relations, the oldest Indian in my company addressed himself to me and said: “Now you have heard what some Indians can perform. Have you ever heard the like before, and do you believe all you have heard?” “There are,” I answered, “many things that I have heard of the Indians, and which I believe to be true, and such things I like to hear; but there are also things which they relate which I do not believe, and therefore do not wish to know them. While our friend here was just now telling us stories of this kind, which I cannot believe, I was wishing all the time that he might soon have finished and tell us something better.” The Indian, taking the hint in good part, asked me then what things I should like to hear? On which I made this reply: “As you are a man already in years, and much older than myself, you must have seen many things that I have not seen, and heard much that I have not heard. Now I should like to hear the history of your life; where you was born, at what age you shot your first deer, what things you heard of your father and your grandfather relative to old times; where they supposed the Indians to have come from, and what traditions they had respecting them. I should like also to know how many children you have had; how far you have travelled in your lifetime, and what you have seen and heard in your travels. See!” added I, “these are the things that I should like to hear of the Indians; anything of the kind from you will give me pleasure.” The Indian then, highly pleased with my candour, readily complied, and having related everything remarkable that had come within his observation and knowledge, I thanked him, saying that I should never forget him nor what he had now related to me, but that I would try to forget what he had related in the beginning. The Indians who were with me, following the thread of the conversation, continued to entertain us with rational stories, and the evening was spent very agreeably. In the morning, when we parted, the strange Indian whom I had thus rebuked, shook me cordially by the hand, saying: “Friend! you shall never be forgotten by me. Indeed I call you my _friend_.”

I would take the liberty to recommend to those who may hereafter travel among the Indians, in any part of America, to be particular in their enquiries respecting the connexion of the different nations or tribes with each other, especially when the analogy of their respective languages leads to infer such _relationship_, as the Indians call it. I beg leave to suggest a few questions, which, I think, ought always to be asked. They may lead to much useful information respecting the various migrations and the original places of residence of the Indian nations, and perhaps produce more important discoveries.

1. What is the name of your tribe? Is it its original name; if not, how was it formerly called?

2. Have you a tradition of your lineal descent as a nation or tribe?

3. To what tribes are you related by blood, and where do they reside?

4. What is your character or rank in the national family?

5. Which among the tribes connected with you is that which you call _grandfather_?

6. Where is the great council fire of all the nations or tribes connected with yours?

7. How do you address the chiefs and council of such a nation or tribe?

8. What is the badge of your tribe?

From these and other similar questions, much valuable information will probably result. The nation whom another tribe calls _grandfather_, is certainly the head of the family to which they both belong. At his door burns the “great national council fire,” or, in other words, at the place where he resides with his counsellors, as the great or supreme chief of the national family, the heads of the tribes in the connexion occasionally assemble to deliberate on their common interests; any tribe may have a council fire of its own, but cannot dictate to the other tribes, nor compel any of them to take up the hatchet against an enemy; neither can they conclude a peace for the whole; this power entirely rests with the great national chief, who presides at the council fire of their _grandfather_.

Indian nations or tribes connected with each other are not always connected by blood or descended from the same original stock. Some are admitted into the connexion by adoption. Such are the Tuscaroras among the Six Nations; such the Cherokees among the Lenni Lenape. Thus, in the year 1779, a deputation of fourteen men came from the Cherokee nation to the council fire of the Delawares, to condole with their _grandfather_ on the loss of their head chief.[247] There are tribes, on the other hand, who have wandered far from the habitations of those connected with them by blood or relationship. It is certain that they can no longer be benefited by the general council fire. They, therefore, become a people by themselves, and pass with us for a separate nation, if they only have a name; nevertheless, (if I am rightly informed) they well know to what stock or nation they originally belonged, and if questioned on that subject, will give correct answers. It is therefore very important to make these enquiries of any tribe or nation that a traveller may find himself among. The analogy of languages is the best and most unequivocal sign of connexion between Indian tribes; yet the absence of that indication should not always be relied upon.

It may not be improper also to mention in this place that the purity or correctness with which a language is spoken, will greatly help to discover who is the head of the national family. For no where is the language so much cultivated as in the vicinity of the great national council fire, where the orators have the best opportunity of displaying their talents. Thus the purest and most elegant dialect of the Lenape language, is that of the Unami or Turtle tribe.