LETTER OF FATHER DE SMET.
St. Louis University, DEC. 1, 1861.
DEAR SIR:
IN my letter of Nov. 10th, 1859, I alluded to the Skalzi Indians. Allow me to add fuller details concerning that tribe:
I visited these good savages, for the first time, in the summer of 1845, on which occasion I had the happiness to regenerate all their little children in the holy waters of baptism, as well as a large number of adults. I saw these dear children again in 1859; and the visit filled me with inexpressible joy, because they had remained faithful,-true to the faith, and fervent and zealous Christians. They were the consolation of their missionaries, and shone conspicuous by their virtues among the tribes of the Rocky Mountains. They were especially distinguished by an admirable simplicity, a great charity, and a rare honesty in all their dealings with their neighbors, and an innocence of manners worthy of the primitive Christians. A short account of this interesting tribe and the country which they inhabit, will doubtless please you.
The two tribes of the Kootenays and Flat-bows number over a thousand souls. They are principally divided into two camps, and are known in their country under the name of Skalzi. One of these camps, numbering ~ about three hundred, inhabits sometimes the neighborhood of the great Flathead Lake, and sometimes the great Tobacco Plain, which is watered by the Koetenay River,-the distance is about seventy miles. The Tobacco Plain is a remarkable spot, situated between the forty-ninth and fiftieth degrees of north latitude, and is the only great plain possessed by this camp. It is about fifty or sixty miles long, by fifteen or twenty miles in width. It resembles a large basin, surrounded by lofty mountains, which form a vast and beautiful amphitheatre, and present a picturesque sight. The plain has all the appearance of the dry bed of a vast lake. Towards the south the valley is gravelly, undulating, and covered with little hillocks, and patches here and there are susceptible of cultivation; the northern portion, on the contrary, has a uniform surface, and a considerable extent of excellent arable land. Though the land is very elevated, and far towards the north, the temperature is remarkably mild, severe cold being a rare occurrence, and the snow is seldom deep; it falls frequently during the season, but disappears almost as it falls, absorbed, perhaps, by the rarefaction of the atmosphere at this elevation, or, perhaps, driven off by the southern breeze, which blows almost uninterruptedly in the valley, and drives the snow off as it falls. Horses and horned cattle find abundant pasture during the whole year. The large river, called indifferently the Koetenay, the McGilvray, and the Flat-bow River, flows through the entire valley. It rises to the northwest of this region, and its course is towards the southeast for a considerable distance. The waters of this great river are increased by a large number of brooks and beautiful rivulets, which have their source, for the most part, in the lovely lakes or numerous basins of these beautiful mountains. Many of these streams present to the eye the most charming scenes in their course. The noise of their waters and the sweet murmur of their falls are heard at some distance, and the eye is charmed by their descent from height after height, and their succession of cascades, from which they escape to the plain, covered with foam, and, as it were, exhausted by the struggles of the way. These mountain torrents will some day be the sites of mills of every description. Coal exists in many portions of the country, lead is found in abundance, and I venture to say that more precious minerals repose in the bosom of the mountains, and will one day be brought to light there.
The Indians have devoted themselves to agriculture for some years past. They cultivate little fields of maize, barley, oats, and potatoes, all of which ripen. It is rare that the frost injures the crops before the season of harvest. Their small fields cannot be extended, owing to the want of instruments of agriculture. They are compelled to turn the earth with instruments of the most primitive construction, such as Adam may have used in his day. The pointed stick made of a very hard wood, is what they have used from ages immemorial to dig up the comach, the bitter-root, the wapatoo (sagitta folia, the caious, or biscuit-root, and other vegetables of the same description. These Indians are very industrious. They are rarely unemployed. Their time is fully occupied in making bows and arrows, lines and hooks, or in hunting and fishing, or seeking roots or wild fruits for their numerous families. They extend their hunt often to the great plains of the Blackfeet and the Crows, to the east of the Rocky Mountains, on the upper waters of the Missouri and the Sascatshawin. Deprived as they are of agricultural instruments and fire-arms, they are always in want, and they may be said to keep a perpetual Lent.
The missionaries furnished them with a few ploughs and spades. Last year I forwarded to them, by the steamer of the Missouri Fur Company at St. Louis, some necessary agricultural implements, such as ploughs, &c.; but the boat was burned with all her cargo above the Yellowstone river.
It is much to be regretted that no more can be done for these good Indians, for, of all the mountain tribes, they are at once the best disposed and the most necessitous. The beau-ideal of the Indian character, uncontaminated by contact with the whites, is found among them. What is most pleasing to the stranger, is to see their simplicity, united with sweetness and innocence, keep step with the most perfect dignity and modesty of deportment. The gross vices which dishonor the red man on the frontiers, are utterly unknown among them. They are honest to scrupulosity. The Hudson Bay Company, during the forty years that it has been trading furs with them, has never been able to perceive that the smallest object had been stolen from them. The agent of the Company takes his furs down to Colvile every Spring, and does not return before Autumn. During his absence, the store is confided to the care of an Indian, who trades in the name of the Company, and on the return of the agent, renders him a most exact account of his trust. I repeat here what I stated in a preceding letter, that the store often remains without any one to watch it, the door unlocked and unbolted, and the goods are never stolen. The Indians go in and out, help themselves to what they want, and always scrupulously leave in place of whatever article they take its exact value.
The following anecdote will serve to give an idea of the delicacy of conscience of these good Indians.
An old chief, poor and blind, came from a great distance, guided by his son, to consult the priest; his only object being to receive baptism, if he should be considered worthy of the privilege. He stated to the missionary, that, in spite of his ardent desire to be baptized, he had not dared to approach the priest for that purpose, owing to a small debt of two beaver skins (say ten dollars) which he had contracted. "My poverty," said he, "has always prevented me from fulfilling this obligation; and until I had done so, I dared not gratify the dearest wish of my heart. At last I had a thought. I begged my friends to be charitable to me. I am now in possession of a fine buffalo robe: I wish to make myself worthy of baptism." The missionary, accompanied by the old man, went to the clerk of the Company to learn the particulars of the debt. The clerk examined the books, but said that no such debt existed. The chief still insisted on paying, but the clerk refused to take the robe. "Have pity on me," at last exclaimed the worthy old man, "this debt has rendered me wretched long enough; for years it has weighed on my conscience. I wish to belong to the blameless and pure prayer (religion), and to make myself worthy of the name of a child of God. This buffalo robe covers my debt," and he spread it on the ground at the feet of the clerk. He received baptism, and returned home contented and happy.
A young Kootenay who had been baptized in infancy, during my first visit in 1845, had emigrated with his parents to the Soushwaps in the mountainous regions near Fraser River. His parents desired to marry him to a young woman who was as yet unbaptized; he had a sister in the same condition. It was resolved that the three should make the long journey of many weeks' travel, to reach the Mission, in order that both sacraments might be received. On their arrival, their ardent faith, and praiseworthy earnestness, were the admiration of the whole village. The fervent missionary, Father Menetry, instructed these zealous neophytes, and prepared them for holy baptism. The young man, who had not seen a priest since 1845, had prepared himself to approach the tribunal of penance, for the first time, in order to make his first communion, and to receive the nuptial benediction with the proper dispositions. On the day appointed for the administration of all these sacraments, the young Kootenay presented himself with an humble and modest air at the confessional. He held in his hands some bundles of cedar chips, about the size of ordinary matches, and divided into small bunches of different sizes. After kneeling in the confessional and saying the confiteor, he handed the little bundles to the priest. "These, my father," said he, "are the result of my examination of conscience. This bundle is such a sin: count the chips and you will know how many times I have committed it; the second bundle is such a sin," and so he continued his confession. His confession was accompanied with such sincere signs of grief, that his confessor was affected to tears. It is impossible not to be struck with admiration for the simplicity of heart which led our young savage, in his desire to perform this duty with the utmost exactitude, to this new method of making a confession; but still more admirable is the adorable grace of the Holy Ghost, who thus sheds His gifts upon these, His poor children of the desert, and, if I may dare to say so, adapts himself to their capacity.
In their zeal and fervor the Kootenays have built a little church of round logs on the great Tobacco Prairie. They carried the logs,-which averaged from twenty to twenty-five feet in length,-in their arms a distance of more than a quarter of a mile, and raised the walls of the new church, as it were, by main force. The exterior is covered with straw and sods. In this humble house of the Lord they meet morning and evening, to offer to the Great Spirit their fervent prayers,-the first-fruits of the day. How striking is the contrast between this little church of the desert and the magnificent temples of civilization, especially in Europe. The majesty of these churches, their fine pictures, the sculpture which adorns their walls, and their imposing proportions, inspire the beholder with admiration and awe: yet, on entering this little cabin, consecrated to the Great Spirit in the desert, erected by poor Indians,-on contemplating the profound recollection, the sincere piety depicted on their features,-on hearing them recite their prayers, which seem to rise from the bottom of their heart, it is difficult to refrain from tears, and the spectator exclaims: "Indeed, this poor and humble church is the abode of the Lord and the house of prayer; its whole beauty lies in the piety, zeal, and fervor of those who enter there!"
In this humble church are now performed all the religious ceremonies of baptism and marriage. The Indians defer them until the appointed season for the arrival of the missionaries; they then come in from all parts of the country. "How beautiful are the feet of those who announce the Gospel of peace." The priest of this Mission finds the truth of the words, "Jugum meum suave: my yoke is sweet." No sooner has he arrived than all crowd round him, as beloved children to greet, after a long absence, a father whom they tenderly venerate. Even the hands of infants are placed in those of the missionary by their mothers. A long conference then follows. The priest gives and receives all news of important events which have happened since the last meeting, and regulates with the chiefs the exercises to be followed during his present visit. He gives two instructions a day to adults, and catechises the children; he helps them to examine well their consciences, and to make a good confession: he prepares them to approach worthily the Holy Table, instructs the catechumens and admits them to baptism, together with the children born during his absence; he renews and blesses all new marriages; and, like a father, settles any difficulties which may have arisen. Some he encourages and strengthens in the Faith, and removes the doubts and soothes the inquietudes of others. In a word, he encourages all these good neophytes to know the Lord, to serve Him faithfully, and love Him with all their hearts.
If the days of the missionary are thus filled with labor and fatigue, he has his full recompense of merit and consolation. He counts them among the happiest days of his life. The Reverend Father Menetry, their missionary, during his visit in 1858, baptized fifty children and thirty adults, blessed forty marriages, and heard over five hundred confessions.
The great chief of the Kootenays, named Michael, recalls in the midst of his tribe the life and virtues of the ancient patriarchs. His life is that of a good and tender father, surrounded by a numerous family of docile and affectionate children. His camp numbers four hundred souls. They are all baptized, and they walk in the footsteps of their worthy chief. It is truly a delightful spectacle to find in the bosom of these isolated mountains of the Columbia river, a tribe of poor Indians living in the greatest purity of manners, and leading a life of evangelic simplicity. They are almost deprived of the succors of religion, and receive the visit of a priest but once or twice in the course of a year.
The sleep of a missionary among the Indians is always deep. His entire day, and a great part of the night, is spent in instructing them, and arranging the affairs of their conscience. When his work is done, his slumber is profound, and it is not surprising that he hears nothing that passes around him. I wish to add, at this point, a little chapter on the subject of Indian dogs. "Experte crede Roberto."
Having had much experience in this matter myself, I give ready and implicit faith to the statement made to me by Father Menetry, as to the conduct of the dogs of the Kootenays. It is the reverse side of his beautiful description of life among this tribe. All is not beauty and pleasure in this charming wilderness. It is well that travellers at a distance should be forewarned of what they may expect, that they may provide themselves for the occasion. If the traveller has only one tent, he must be careful before he retires to barricade the entrance well, and surround it with brush; he must stop every crack and cranny, and carefully hang out of reach not only all his provisions, but any thing made of leather, or that has once had connection with flesh, otherwise, he will find on waking, that himself and his cattle are deprived of provender. The Indian dogs are as bad as their masters are good. Their masters abhor theft, but these dogs make it their business, and subsist entirely by pilfering. These dogs are found to the number of six or seven in each family: each member owns one or two; they live on bones and the crumbs which fall from the frugal table of their poor masters, and I can assure you that very little is left from the meal of an Indian, who considers it a duty to eat all that is set before him, and is by no means nice at table. The dogs, therefore, are left to provide for themselves as best they can. For the most part, they work by night, and become very cunning and expert: hunger sharpens their rapacious instincts. Father Menetry assures us, that he has very often awoke in the morning as poor as job, every thing having been carried off during the night. It was in vain that he had taken every precaution which prudence suggested before going to bed, the industry of these nocturnal marauders got the better of all his care. Sleeping like a log after the fatigues of the day, he never heard the noise made by the thieves during their stay, though they often fought with one another in his tent over their spoils. The more vigilant savages were frequently aroused by the racket made in his tent, and were in the habit of coming to his rescue. Sometimes a good old Indian dame, armed with a big stick, would present herself suddenly upon the field of battle, dealing her blows right and left upon the combatants; again, a stalwart young savage would venture into the Father's tent to disperse these midnight marauders, and restore peace. Occasionally, the good Father himself would be aroused by the noise of the howling of the dogs and the cries of those who had come to protect him. They would then set to work to repair, though rather too late, the breaches made in his fortifications, stopping up every hole, and barricading the entry afresh. He would then lie down again, at the risk of another attack from these indefatigable robbers.
At last a council of chiefs was held on the subject, in which it was resolved to put an end to these scenes, so annoying to the missionary. They therefore surrounded his tent with an inclosure impenetrable to dogs. They went further, even, and set to work, in good earnest, to build a presbytery with two apartments, attached to the church. One room was made to serve for a sleeping-room, and the other to meet in, and for private conference with the priest. The good savages replaced, each time, the provisions and other objects stolen by their dogs. Taking the food as it were, from their own mouths and from those of their children, that the Father might not suffer from hunger; for fear that the want of necessaries might shorten his stay among them.
It appears from these little details, that Charity, the eldest daughter of Religion, flourishes in the soul of the simple savage, as well as in that of the children of Civilization. Though poorer and more humble among them, charity is not less industrious, not less beautiful: it is more simple and candid with them, and therefore more attractive.
P.J. DE SMET, S.J.