Part 14 (1/2)
This miracle was inborn on me slowly. On the first Buffalo hunt we had found a smoothened pole stuck in the ground by the trail. It was inscribed as herewith.
”What is that Sousi?” ”It's a notice from Chief William that Swiggert wants men on the portage,” and he translated it literally: ”The fat white man 5 scows, small white man 2 scows, gone down, men wanted for Rapids, Johnnie Bolette this letter for you. (Signed) Chief William.”
Each of our guides in succession had shown a similar familiarity with the script of his people, and many times we found spideresque characters on tree or stone that supplied valuable information.
They could, however tell me nothing of its age or origin, simply ”We all do it; it is easy.”
At Fort Resolution I met the Jesuit fathers and got the desired chance of learning about the Chipewyan script.
First, it is not a true alphabet, but a syllabic; not letters, but syllables, are indicated by each character; 73 characters are all that are needed to express the whole language. It is so simple and stenographic that the fathers often use it as a rapid way of writing French. It has, however, the disadvantage of ambiguity at times. Any Indian boy can learn it in a week or two; practically all the Indians use it. What a commentary on our own c.u.mbrous and illogical spelling, which takes even a bright child two or three years to learn!
Now, I already knew something of the Cree syllabic invented by the Rev. James Evans, Methodist missionary on Lake Winnipeg in the '40s, but Cree is a much less complex language; only 36 characters are needed, and these are so simple that an intelligent Cree can learn to write his own language in one day.
In support, of this astounding statement I give, first, the 36 characters which cover every fundamental sound in their language and then a sample of application. While crude and inconcise, it was so logical and simple that in a few years the missionary had taught practically the whole Cree nation to read and write. And Lord Dufferin, when the matter came before him during his north-west tour, said enthusiastically: ”There have been men buried in Westminster Abbey with national honours whose claims to fame were far less than those of this devoted missionary, the man who taught a whole nation to read and write.”
These things I knew, and now followed up my Jesuit source of information.
”Who invented this?”
”I don't know for sure. It is in general use.”
”Was it a native idea?”
”Oh, no; some white man made it.”
”Where? Here or in the south?”
”It came originally from the Crees, as near as we can tell.”
”Was it a Cree or a missionary that first thought of it?”
”I believe it was a missionary.”
”Frankly, now, wasn't it invented in 1840 by Rev. James Evans, Methodist missionary to the Crees on Lake Winnipeg?”
Oh, how he hated to admit it, but he was too honest to deny it.
”Yes, it seems to me it was some name like that. 'Je ne sais pas.'”
Reader, take a map of North America, a large one, and mark off the vast area bounded by the Saskatchewan, the Rockies, the Hudson Bay, and the Arctic circle, and realise that in this region, as large as continental Europe outside of Russia and Spain, one simple, earnest man, inspired by the love of Him who alone is perfect love, invented and popularised a method of writing that in a few years--in less than a generation, indeed--has turned the whole native population from ignorant illiterates to a people who are proud to read and write their own language. This, I take it, is one of the greatest feats of a civiliser. The world has not yet heard, much less comprehended, the magnitude of the achievement; when it does there will be no name on the Canadian roll of fame that will stand higher or be blazoned more brightly than that of James Evans the missionary.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE DOGS OF FORT RESOLUTION
It sounds like the opening of an epic poem but it is not.
The Chipewyan calender is divided in two seasons--dog season and canoe season. What the horse is to the Arab, what the Reindeer is to the Lap and the Yak to the Thibetan, the dog is to the Chipewyan for at least one-half of the year, until it is displaced by the canoe.
During dog season the canoes are piled away somewhat carelessly or guarded only from the sun. During canoe season the dogs are treated atrociously. Let us remember, first, that these are dogs in every doggy sense, the wors.h.i.+pping servants of man, asking nothing but a poor living in return for abject love and tireless service, as well as the relinquishment of all family ties and natural life. In winter, because they cannot serve without good food, they are well fed on fish that is hung on scaffolds in the fall in time to be frozen before wholly spoiled. The journeys they will make and the devoted service they render at this time is none too strongly set forth in Butler's ”Cerf Vola” and London's ”Call of the Wild.” It is, indeed, the dog alone that makes life possible during the white half-year of the boreal calender. One cannot be many days in the north without hearing tales of dog prowess, devotion, and heroism.