The works of the late Dr. Benjamin Franklin consisting of his Life written by himself : together with Essays humorous, moral, & literary, chiefly in the manner of the Spectator.

REMARKS CONCERNING the SAVAGES of NORTH AMERICA.

SAVAGES we call them, because their manners differ from ours, which we think the per|fection of civility; they think the same of theirs.

Perhaps, if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality▪ we should find no people so rude as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite as not to have some remains of rudeness.

The Indian men, when young, are hunters and warriors; when old, counsellors; for all their go|vernment is by the counsel or advice of sages; there is no force, there are no prisons, no officers to compel obedience, or inflict punishment. Hence they generally study oratory; the best speaker having the most influence. The Indian women till the ground, dress the food, nurse and bring up the children, and preserve and hand down to pos|terity the memory of public transactions. These employments of men and women are accounted natural and honourable. Having few artificial wants, they have abundance of leisure for improve|ment by conversation. Our laborious manner of life, compared with theirs, they esteem slavish and base; and the learning on which we value our selves,

they regard as frivolous and useless. An instance of this occured at the treaty of Lancaster, in Pennsylvania, anno 1744, between the govern|ment of Virginia and the Six Nations. After the principal business was settled, the commissioners from Virginia acquainted the Indians by a speech, that there was at Williamsburg a college, with a fund, for educating Indian youth; and that if the chiefs of the Six Nations would send down half a dozen of their sons to that college the govern|ment would take care that they should be well pro|vided for, and instructed in all the learning of the white people. It is one of the Indian rules of po|liteness not to answer a public proposition the same day that it is made; they think it would be treat|ing it as a light matter; and they shew it respect by taking time to consider it, as of a matter import|ant. They therefore deferred their answer till the day following; when their speaker began, by ex|pressing their deep sense of the kindness of the Virginia government, in making them that offer; "for we know (says he) that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with you, would be very expensive to you. We are convinced, therefore, that you mean to do us good by your proposal, and we thank you heartily. But you who are wise, must know, that different na|tions have different conceptions of things; and you will therefore not take it amiss, if our ideas of this kind of education happen not to be the same with yours. We have had some experience of it: se|veral of our young people were formerly brought up at the colleges of the northern provinces: they were instructed in all your sciences; but when they

came back to us, they were bad runners; igno|rant of every means of living in the woods; una|ble to bear either cold or hunger; knew neither how to build a cabin, take a deer, or kill an ene|my; spoke our language imperfectly; were there|fore neither fit for hunters, warriors, or counsel|lors; they were totally good for nothing. We are however not the less obliged by your kind of|fer, though we decline accepting it: and to show our grateful sense of it, if the gentlemen of Virgi|nia will send us a dozen of their sons, we will take great care of their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them."

Having frequent occasions to hold public coun|cils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducting them. The old men fit in the fore|most ranks, the warriors in the next, and the wo|men and children in the hindmost. The business of the women is to take exact notice of what passes, imprin•• it in their memories, for they have no writ|ing, and communicate it to their children. They are the records of the council, and they preserve tradition of the stipulations in treaties a hundred years back; which, when we compare with our writings, we always find exact. He that would speak, rises. The rest observe a profound silence. When he has finished, and fits down, they leave him five or six minutes to recollect, that if he has omitted any thing he intended to say, or has any thing to add, he may rise again and deliver it.—To interrupt another, even in common conversa|tion, is reckoned highly indecent. How different this is from the conduct of a polite British House 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Commons, where scarce a day passes 〈◊〉〈◊〉

some 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that makes the speaker hoarse in 〈…〉〈…〉 ••••rder; and how different from the mode 〈…〉〈…〉 ••••••tion in many polite companies of Eu|〈…〉〈…〉, if you do not deliver your sentence 〈…〉〈…〉 ••rapidity, you are cut off in the middle 〈…〉〈…〉 ••••impatient loquacity of those you con|〈…〉〈…〉 and never suffered to finish it!

〈…〉〈…〉 of these savages in conversation, 〈…〉〈…〉 ••arried to excess; since it does not per|〈…〉〈…〉 contradict or deny the truth of what 〈…〉〈…〉 their presence. By this means they 〈…〉〈…〉 ••••putes; but then it becomes diffi|cult to know their minds, or what impression you make upon them. The missionaries who have at|tempted to convert them to Christianity, all complain of this as one of the great difficulties of their mission. The Indians hear with patience the truths of the gos|pel explained to them, and give their usual tokens of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and approbation: you would think they were convinced. No such matter. It is mere civility.

A Swedish minister having assembled the chiefs of the Sasquehannah Indians, made a sermon to them, acquainting them with the principal historical facts on which our religion is founded; such as the fall of our first parents by eating an apple; the ▪coming of Christ to repair the mischief; his meracles and suf|fering, &c.—When he had finished, an Indian orator stood up to thank him. "What you have told us," says he, "is all very good. It is indeed bad to eat apples. It is better to make them all into cyder. We are much obliged by your kindness in coming so far to tell us those things which you have heard from your mothers. In return, I will tell you some of those we have heard from ours.

"In the beginning, our fathers had only the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of animals to subsist on; and if their hunting was unsuccessful, they were star••ing. Two of our young hunters having killed a deer, made a fire in the woods to broil some parts of it. When they were about to satisfy their hunger, they be|held a beautiful young woman descend from the clouds, and seat herself on that hill which you see yonder among the Blue Mountains. They said to each other, it is a spirit that perhaps has smelt our broiling venison, and wishes to eat of it: let us offer some to her. They presented her with the tongue: she was pleased with the taste of it, and said, "Your kindness shall be rewarded. Come to this place after thirteen moons, and you shall find something that will be of great benefit in nou|rishing you and your children to the latest genera|tions. They did so, and to their surprise, found plants they had never seen before; but which, from that ancient time, have been constantly cul|tivated among us, to our great advantage. Where her right hand had touched the ground, they found maize; where her left hand had touched it they found kidney-beans, and where her back-side had sat on it, tobacco." The good missionary, disgusted with this idle tale, said, "What I delivered to you were sacred truths; but what you tell me is mere fable, fiction, and falsehood." The Indian, offended, re|plied, "My brother, it seems your friends have not done you justice in your education; they have not well instructed you in the rules of common civi|lity. You saw that we, who understand and practise those rules, believed all your stories, why do you re|fuse to believe ours?"

When any of them come into our towns, our people are apt to crowd round them, gaze upon them, and incommode them where they desire to be private; this they esteem great rudeness, and the effect of the want of instruction in the rules of civility and good manners. "We have," say they, "as much curiosity as you, and when you come into our towns, we wish for opportunities of looking at you; but for this purpose we hide our|selves behind bushes where you are to pass, and never intrude ourselves into your company."

Their manner of entering one another's villages has likewise its rules. It is reckoned uncivil in travelling strangers to enter a village abruptly, with|out giving notice of their approach. Therefore, as soon as they arrive within hearing, they stop and hollow, remaining there till invited to enter. Two old men usually come out to them, and lead them in. There is in every village a vacant dwelling, called the strangers house. Here they are placed, while the old men go round from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants that strangers are arrived, who are probably hungry and weary; and every one sends them what he can spare of victuals, and skins to re|pose on. When the strangers are refreshed, pipes and tobacco are brought; and then, but not before, conversation begins, with enquiries who they are, whither bound, what news, &c. and it usually ends with offers of service; if the strangers have occasion for guides, or any necessaries for continuing their journey; and nothing is exacted for the entertain|ment.

The same hospitality, esteemed among them as a principal virtue, is practised by private persons; of which Conrad Weiser, our interpreter, gave me

the following instance. He had been naturalized among the Six Nations, and spoke well the Mo|bock language. In going through the Indian country, to carry a message from our governor to the council at Onondaga, he called at the habita|tion of Canassetego, an old acquaintance, who em|braced him, spread furs for him to sit on, placed before him some boiled beans and venison, and mixed some rum and water for his drink. When he was well refreshed, and had lit his pipe, Canas|fetego began to converse with him: asked how he had fared the many years since they had seen each other, whence he then came, what occasioned the journey, &c. Conrad answered all his questions; and when the discourse began to flag, the Indian, to continue it, said, Conrad, you have lived long among the white people, and know something of their customs; I have been sometimes at Alba|ny, and have observed, that once in seven days they shut up their shops, and assemble all in the great house; tell me what it is for! What do they do these?" "They meet there," says Conrad, "to hear and learn good things." "I do not doubt," says the Indian, "that they tell you so; they have told me the same: but I doubt the truth of what they say, and I will tell you my rea|sons. I went lately to Albany, to fell my skins, and buy blankets, knives, powder, rum, &c. You know I used generally to deal with Hans Hanson; but I was a little inclined this time to try some other merchants. However, I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 first upon Hans, and asked him what he would give for beaver. He said he could not give more than four shil|lings a pound: but, says he, I cannot talk on bu|siness now; this is the day when we meet together

to learn good things, and I am going to the meeting. So I thought to myself, since I cannot do any bu|siness to-day, I may as well go to the meeting too, and I went with him. There stood up a man in black, and began to talk to the people very angrily. I did not understand what he said; but perceiving that he looked much at me, and at Hanson, I ima|gined he was angry at seeing me there: so I went out, sat down near the house, struct fire, and lit my pipe, waiting till the meeting should break up. I thought too that the man had mentioned some|thing of beaver, and I suspected it might be the subject of their meeting. So when they came out I accosted my merchant. 'Well, Hans,' says I 'I hope you have agreed to give more than four shillings a pound.' 'No,' says he, 'I cannot give so much, I cannot give more than three shillings and six pence.' I then spoke to several other deal|ers, but they all sung the same song, three and six|pence, three and six-pence. This made it clear to me that my suspicion was right; and that what|ever they pretended of meeting to learn good things, the purpose was to consult how to cheat Indians is the price of beaver. Consider but a little, Conrad, and you must be of my opinion. If they met so often to learn good things, they would certainly have learned some before this time. But they are still ignorant. You know our practice. If a white man, in travelling through our country, enters one of our cabins, we all treat him as I do you; we dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give him meat and drink, that he may allay his thirst and hunger: and we spread soft furs for him to rest and sleep on: we demand nothing in

return* 1.1. But if I go into a white man's house at Albany, and ask for victuals and drink, they say, Where is your money, and if I have none, they say, Get out, you Indian dog. You see they have not yet learned those little good things that we need no meetings to be instructed in, because our mothers taught them to us when we were children; and therefore it is impossible their meetings should be, as they say, for any such purpose, or have any such effect; they are only to contrive the cheating of Indians in the price of beaver."

Notes

• * 1.1

  It is remarkable, that in all ages and countries, hospitalities has been allowed as the virtue of those, whom the civilized were pleased to call Barbarians; the Greeks celebrated the ••••ythians for it. The Saracens possessed it eminently; and it is to this day the reigning virtue of the wild Arabs. St. Paul too, in the relation of his voyage and shipwreck on the island of Melita, says,

  The barbarous people shewed us no little kindness, for they kindled a fire, and received us every one, because of the present rain, and because of the cold.

  This note is taken from a small collection of Franklin's papers print|ed for Dilly.