CONCERNING THE

COUNTRY AND MANNERS

OF THE CANADIANS,

OR THE SAVAGES OF

NEW FRANCE

By Joseph Jouvency, a Priest of the Society of Jesus.

Printed from the History of the Society of Jesus, Book xv., Part v.

ROME:

Printing House of Giorgio Placko

1710.

[3] Table of Contents.

[The page numbers refer to O'Callaghan's Reprint.]

[344 § x.] Concerning the country and manners of the Savages of New France.

RIVERS OF NEW FRANCE; NATURE OF THE SOIL; WILD BEASTS, FISH, BIRDS, ETC.

THERE are two great rivers in New France. One, called by the natives Canada, a name thence extended to the whole country, is now called the river St. Lawrence, and flows in a very broad channel from west to east. The other, named Mississippi, flows from North to South, through vast regions, for the most part still unknown. The rivers of this land are remarkable because in certain places they are precipitated with a great uproar from the higher to the lower levels. The French call those places water-falls. You might justly call them cataracts, such as are famous in the case of the Nile. The water of an entire river often falls in the form of an arch, in such fashion that it is possible to walk dry-shod beneath the stream which rushes overhead. The savages, when they come to such a spot, shoulder their boats, which are constructed of light bark, and carry them, together with the baggage, to the calm portion of the river flowing below. The chief city of new France is called Kebec, and is situated on the St. Lawrence river. The whole country possesses a healthful climate, but is harassed by a cold and long winter. This is caused partly by the frequency of the rivers and lakes; partly by the thickness and great extent of the forests, which diminish the force of the sun's heat; finally, by the abundance of snow with which the land, in its most Northern regions, which lie upon the same parallel as old France, is continually desolated for three or four months. The soil is extremely productive of all sorts of trees and plants, especially where the clearing of the forest has furnished additional space for cultivation. The same quadrupeds are found as in Europe; some, as the moose, are peculiar to the country. The natives call it the "great beast." This name it receives because of the huge size of its body, for it is as large as an ox. Its head resembles that of a mule; its horns, hoofs, and tail, those of a stag. The savages hunt this animal with the aid of dogs; when it is worn out they dispatch it with spears and missiles. If hunting-dogs are lacking, they themselves go in place of them. Indeed, they proceed through the midst of the snow with incredible swiftness; and, in order that the weight of the body may not sink their feet too deeply into the snow, they place beneath their soles, and fasten to their feet, broad pieces of net-work, very similar to those with which players commonly strike the ball. These pieces of net-work, which cover a sufficiently large portion of the surface of the snow, readily support them while running. But the moose, planting their slender legs deeply into the snow, with difficulty extricate themselves. The savages eat its flesh, are clothed with its skin, and are cured by the hoof of its left hind leg. In this hoof there is a certain marvelous and manifold virtue, as is affirmed by the testimony of the most famous physicians. It avails especially against the epilepsy, whether it be applied to the breast, where the heart is throbbing, or whether it be placed in the bezel of a ring, which is worn upon the finger next to the little finger of the left hand; or, finally, if it be also held in the hollow of the left hand, clenched in the fist. Nor does it have less power in the cure of pleurisy, dizziness, and, if we may believe those familiar with it, six hundred other diseases.

Another well-known and common sort of animal there, is the beaver; its skins, which are exchanged for European merchandise, being the basis of almost the entire system of Canadian commerce. Its color resembles that of the chestnut; the shape of its body is like that of a small wether; its legs are short and formed for swimming; its tail, which it uses as a rudder while swimming, is smooth, thick and flat; two teeth, larger than the others, project from its mouth on each side; these, the beavers use like a sword and a saw in cutting down trees when they build their houses, for in the construction of these they exhibit wonderful industry. They locate them on the banks of lakes or rivers; they build walls of logs, placing between them wet and sticky sods in the place of mortar, so that the work can, even with great violence, scarcely be torn apart and destroyed. The entire house is divided into several stories; the lowest is composed of thicker cross-beams, with branches strewn upon them, and provided with a hole or small door through which they can pass into the river whenever they wish; this story extends somewhat above the water of the river, while the others rise higher, into which they retire if the swelling stream submerges the lowest floor. They sleep in one of the upper stories; a soft bed is furnished by dry seaweed and tree moss, with which they protect themselves from the cold; on another floor they have their store-room, and food provided for winter. The building is covered with a dome-shaped roof. Thus they pass the winter, for in summer they enjoy the shady coolness upon the shores, or escape the summer heat by plunging into the water. Often a great colony of many members is lodged in one house. But, if they be incommoded by the narrowness of the place, the younger ones depart of their own accord and construct homes for themselves. Upon the advent of cool weather in autumn, they devote themselves to this task, and lend mutual services in turn, both in cutting and carrying logs, so that many assist at one and the same burden, and thus carry down great branches and logs of forest trees. If they find any river suitable for their purposes, except in having sufficient depth, they build a dam to keep back the water until it rises to the required height. And first, by gnawing them, they fell trees of large size; then they lay them across, from one shore to the other. They construct a double barrier and rampart of logs, obliquely placed, leaving between them a space of about six feet, which they so ingeniously fill in with stones, clay, and branches that one would expect nothing better from the most skillful architect. The length of the structure is greater or less, according to the size of the stream which they wish to restrain. Dams of this kind a fifth of a mile long are sometimes found. But, if the river swell more than is safe, they break open some part of the structure, and let through as much water as seems sufficient.

As the forests abound in wild beasts, so the rivers teem with fish. There is one in the lake of the Iroquois,67 which is not mentioned by early authors. It is called by the natives "Causar," and is eight feet long, sometimes ten. It is as thick as the human thigh; it is dun-colored, approaching white; it bristles all over with scales, so hard and so firmly set together that they turn the edge of a knife or the point of a spear. The head is large, and protected by an exceedingly hard skull, like a helmet. Hence, the name of "armored fish" has been given it by the French. It carries on perpetual war with, and feeds upon, other fishes. For a weapon it carries an immense beak, of the length of a man's arm and furnished with a double row of teeth. With this hunting-spear it not only devours other fishes, but also, whenever it wishes to vary its diet, deceives and ensnares birds. For this latter purpose it hides itself among the sedge; it projects its beak from the water and opens it slightly. It thus remains motionless until the birds approach and thoughtlessly perch upon the beak, deeming it a reed or a bush; then the treacherous ensnarer seizes the feet of the unfortunate birds by closing its beak, and, dragging them into the water, devours them.68

The birds are fully as abundant as the fishes. During certain months of the year the pigeons sally forth from the woods into the open country in such great numbers that they overload the branches of the trees. When they have settled upon the trees at night they are easily captured, and the savages heap their tables with royal abundance. Besides this, in the huge gulf into which the river saint Lawrence flows may be seen a small island, or rather a double rock; they call it the isle of birds.69 For so many congregate there from the neighboring ocean that it is impossible to count their numbers. The natives make an easy prey of them with clubs, or by trampling them under foot, and bring back their canoes filled with sumptuous food acquired without price. [345] Everywhere may be seen, sporting in the water, geese, ducks, herons, cranes, swans, coots and other birds whose habit it is to seek their living from the waves. A certain peculiarity attaches to one, which is about the size of a cock; its wings are black on the outside and white beneath. One of its feet is armed with hooked claws, the other has webbed toes, like those of a duck; with the latter it swims, with the former it seizes and disembowels fishes.

HOMES AND HOUSEHOLD ECONOMY OF THE CANADIANS; DISEASES; TREATMENT OF THE SICK AND OF THE DEAD.

NOW, if you inquire concerning the customs and character of this people, I will reply that a part of them are nomads, wandering during the winter in the woods, whither the hope of better hunting calls them—in the summer, on the shores of the rivers, where they easily obtain their food by fishing; while others inhabit villages. They construct their huts by fixing poles in the ground; they cover the sides with bark, the roofs with hides, moss and branches. In the middle of the hut is the hearth, from which the smoke escapes through an opening at the peak of the roof. As the smoke passes out with difficulty, it usually fills the whole hut, so that strangers compelled to live in these cabins suffer injury and weakening of the eyes; the savages, a coarse race, and accustomed to these discomforts, ridicule this. The care of household affairs, and whatever work there may be in the family, are placed upon the women. They build and repair the wigwams, carry water and wood, and prepare the food; their duties and position are those of slaves, laborers and beasts of burden. The pursuits of hunting and war belong to the men. Thence arise the isolation and numerical weakness of the race. For the women, although naturally prolific, cannot, on account of their occupation in these labors, either bring forth fully-developed offspring, or properly nourish them after they have been brought forth; therefore they either suffer abortion, or forsake their new-born children, while engaged in carrying water, procuring wood and other tasks, so that scarcely one infant in thirty survives until youth. To this there is added their ignorance of medicine, because of which they seldom recover from illnesses which are at all severe.

They believe that there are two main sources of disease: one of these is in the mind of the patient himself, which desires something, and will vex the body of the sick man until it possesses the thing required. For they think that there are in every man certain inborn desires, often unknown to themselves, upon which the happiness of individuals depends. For the purpose of ascertaining desires and innate appetites of this character, they summon soothsayers, who, as they think, have a divinely-imparted power to look into the inmost recesses of the mind. These men declare that whatever first occurs to them, or something from which they suspect some gain can be derived, is desired by the sick person. Thereupon the parents, friends, and relatives of the patient do not hesitate to procure and lavish upon him whatever it may be, however expensive, a return of which is never thereafter to be sought. The patient enjoys the gift, divides a portion of it among the soothsayers, and often on the next day departs from life. Commonly, however, the sick recover, plainly because their illnesses are slight; for, in the case of more severe complaints, these soothsayers are more cautious, and deny the possibility of ascertaining what the patient desires; then they bewail him whom they have given up, and cause the relatives to put him out of the way. Thus they kill those afflicted with protracted illness, or exhausted by old age, and consider this the greatest kindness, because death puts an end to the sufferings of the sick. They display the same benevolence towards children deprived of their parents, whom they prefer to see dead rather than to see them miserable. They believe that another source of disease is the hidden arts and the charms of sorcerers, which they seek to avert by means of absurd ceremonies. Often they expel noxious humors by sweating. They inclose a certain portion of the hut with pieces of bark and cover it with hides, in order that no air may enter. Within they pile stones heated to a high temperature. They enter naked and toss their arms while singing. But, strange to say, they will leave this heat, dripping with perspiration, and in the very coldest part of winter cast themselves into a lake or river, careless of pleurisy.

They never bear out the corpses of the dead through the door of the lodge, but through that part toward which the sick person turned when he expired. They think that the soul flies out through the smoke-hole; and, in order that it may not linger through longing for its old home, nor while departing breathe upon any of the children, who by such an act would be, as they think, doomed to death, they beat the walls of the wigwam with frequent blows of a club, in order that they may compel the soul to depart more quickly. They believe it to be immortal. That it may not thereafter perish with hunger, they bury with the body a large quantity of provisions; also, garments, pots, and various utensils of great expense, and acquired by many years' labor, in order, they say, that he may use them and pass his time more suitably in the kingdom of the dead. The tombs of the chiefs are raised a little from the ground; upon them they place poles joined in the form of a pyramid; they add a bow, arrows, shield and other insignia of war; but upon the tombs of the women they place necklaces and collars. They bury the bodies of infants beside paths, in order that their souls, which they think do not depart very far from the body, may slip into the bosoms of women passing by, and animate the yet undeveloped fetus. In mourning, they stain the face with soot. When informed of a death, the relatives, neighbors, and friends assemble at the lodge where the corpse lies. If the condition of the dead permit, one of them makes a speech, in which he employs all those arguments that the most eloquent speakers are wont to use for the solace of grief. He rehearses the praises of the dead; he reminds them that the latter was born a man, and therefore liable to death; that those misfortunes which cannot be repaired are made lighter by patience; he sets forth other things of that sort to the same effect. On the third day the funeral is held. A funeral feast is provided for the whole village, each individual liberally furnishing his share. For this feast they advance three main reasons: first, that they may assuage the general grief; secondly, that those friends who come from a distance to the funeral may be more fittingly entertained; thirdly, that they may please the spirit of the dead, which, they believe, is delighted by this exhibition of liberality, and also partakes of the repast placed for him. When the feast is completed the master of the funeral, who, in each distinguished family, permanently holds this office and is greatly honored, proclaims that the time for the burial has come. All give utterance to continuous lamentations and wailings. The corpse, wrapped in beaver skins, and placed upon a bier made of bark and rushes, with his limbs bent and pressed tightly against his body in order that, as they say, he may be committed to the earth in the same position in which he once lay in his mother's womb, is borne out on the shoulders of the relatives. The bier is set down at the appointed place, the gifts which each one offers to the dead are fastened to poles, and the donors are named by the master of the funeral. The mourning is renewed; finally, boys vie with each other in a mock contest.

Those who have been drowned are buried with greater ceremony and lamentation. For their bodies are cut open, and a portion of the flesh, together with the viscera, thrown into the fire. This is a sort of sacrifice, by means of which they seek to appease heaven. For they are sure that heaven is enraged against the race whenever any one loses his life by drowning. If any part of these funeral rites has not been duly and regularly performed, they believe that all the calamities from which they afterwards may suffer are a punishment for this neglect. They indulge their grief throughout an entire year. For the first ten days they lie upon the ground day and night, flat upon their bellies; it is impious then to utter any sound unless significant of grief, or to approach the fire, or to take part in feasts. During the remainder of the year the mourning continues, but less vigorously. All the duties of politeness, conversation with neighbors, and association with friends, are neglected; and, if a man has lost a wife he remains unmarried until the year has expired. Every eight or ten years the Hurons, which nation is widely extended, convey all their corpses from all the villages to a designated place and cast them into an immense pit. They call it the day of the Dead. When this has been decreed by resolution of the elders, they drag out the corpses from their graves, some already decomposed, with flesh scarcely clinging to the bones, others thinly covered with putrid flesh, others teeming with vile worms and smelling fearfully. The loose bones they place in sacks, the bodies not yet disintegrated they place in coffins, and bear them, in the manner of suppliants, to the appointed place, proceeding amid deep silence and with regular step, uttering sighs and mournful cries. But, in order that the memory of chiefs and of those especially famous in the art of war, who lack offspring, may not fail, they choose some person in the flower of his age and strength, to whom they give the name of the dead man. The namesake immediately makes a levy of warriors and starts for battle, in order that by the achievement of some glorious deed he may prove himself the heir not only of the name but also of the valor of him whose place he has taken. Names of lesser note are condemned to everlasting silence. Therefore, as soon as any one in the village has departed this life his name is proclaimed in a loud voice throughout all the lodges, in order that no one may rashly use it. But if, nevertheless, it be necessary to name the dead man, they use a circumlocution and preface something by which the unpleasant [346] recollection of his death may be softened. If that be omitted they consider it a deadly insult: nor do they think that son or parent can be wounded by more savage abuse than when their dead relatives are defamed before them.