Comparative Table of Numerals.

Hochelaga.Huron.
(Cartier.)(Lorette.)Wyandot.Mohawk.
1segada}
secata}skātscatunska
2tigneny}
tignem }tenditendeedekenih
3aschechinshaightahsunh
4honnaconndakandaghtkayerih
5ouisconwischweeishwisk
6indahirwahiawaushauyayak
7ayagatsotarésootaiejadah
8adigueateréautaraisadekonh
9madellonentsonaintrutyodonh
10assemasenaughsaghoyerih
11 ...asenskatiskaréassan escate escarhetunskayawenreh
12 ...asentenditiskaréasanteni escarhetdekenihyawenreh
13 ...āsenachinskaré ...ahsunhyawenreh
14 ...asendakskaré ...kayerihyawenreh
15 ...asenwischskaré ...wiskyawenreh
16 ...asenwahiaskaré ...yayakyawenreh
17 ...asentsotaréskaré ...jadahyawenreh
18 ...asenateréskaré ...sadekonhyawenreh
19 ...asenentsonskaré ...tyodonhyawenreh
20 ...tendi eouasentendeitawaughsadewasunh
30 ...achink iouasen ...ahsunhniwasunh
100 ...enniot iouasenscutemaingarweunskadewennyaweh
1000 ...asenate ouendiaréassen attenoignauoyoyerih-
nadewennyaweh

are seen in the universality of one series of names throughout the whole ancient and modern Aryan languages of Asia and Europe. But the Basque numerals bear little or no resemblance to either, unless such can be traced in the bi, “two,” and the sei, “six,” as in the assem, “ten” (decem), of the old Hochelaga, the ahsen of the later Wyandots. The ehun of the Basque has also its remote, and probably accidental resemblance; but the milla, “one thousand,” is certainly borrowed, and serves to show that the higher numerals, with the evidence they afford of advancing civilisation, were the result of intrusive Aryan influences in the natives of the Iberian peninsula. With the growing tendency to turn to the prehistoric Iberians of Europe for one possible key to the origin of the races and languages of America, it is well to keep this test in view for comparison with the widely varying native numerals. But the correspondence is slight, even with probable Turanian congeners. One Biscayan form of “three,” hirun, is not unlike the Magyar harom; while the eyg, “one,” of the latter, seems to find its counterpart in the inseparable particle that transforms the Basque radical ham, “ten,” into the hamaika, “eleven.” But such fragmentary traces are in striking contrast to the radical agreement of Sanskrit, Zend, Greek, Latin, Celtic, Slavonic, and Teutonic numerals. Mr. Hale has drawn my attention to the curious manner in which the names of the first five Hochelaga numerals in Cartier’s list are contracted and strengthened in the modern Wyandot; and some of the modifications in the Iroquois dialects are no less interesting. Secata, the Hochelaga “one,” survives in the Onondaga skadah, while it becomes skat in the modern Huron, the Cayuga, and the Seneca. But in the compounded form of the Wyandot “one hundred,” skatamendjawe, as in the Onondaga skadahdewennyachweh, the terminal a reappears. Tigneny, the old form of “two,” is abridged and strengthened to tendi; asche, “three” (originally, in all probability, aschen, or, as still in use by the Hurons of Lorette, achin), survives as ahsunh or ahsenh in nearly all the Iroquois dialects, including the Tuscarora. In the Nottoway it is still discernible in the modified arsa. The exceptions are the Seneca, where it becomes sen, while one Wyandot form is shenk; which reappears in the Seneca compounded form of “thirty,” shenkwashen. Honnacon, “four,” loses both its initial and terminal syllables, and becomes dak in the Wyandot, and keih or kei, an abbreviation of the Mohawk kayerih, in the Cayuga and the Seneca dialects. The ancient form of “five,” ouiscon, has partially survived in the Huron ouisch. It becomes wisk, whisk, wish, or (in the Seneca) wis, in all the Iroquois dialects,—the Wyandot and Cayuga once more agreeing in form. The ayaga, “seven,” of the old Hochelaga, nearly resembles the jadah of several of the Iroquois dialects, as in the Cayuga jadak, in the Tuscarora janah, and in the Nottoway oyag; whereas in the Wyandot it is tsotaré. The adigue, “eight,” in its oldest form is sadekonh in the Mohawk, and dekrunh in the Cayuga; with the substitution of the l for r it becomes deklonh in the Oneida; and after changing to tekion in the Seneca, and nagronh in the Tuscarora, it reappears in the Nottoway as dekra. The ancient madellon, “nine,” curiously survives in abridged form, with the substitute for the labial, in the Oneida wadlonh and the Onondaga wadonh, while one Wyandot form is entron, and that of the Hurons of Lorette entson. In the Hochelaga assem, “ten,” we have the old form which is perpetuated in the Wyandot ahsen, the Onondaga and Cayuga wasenh, the Tuscarora wasunh, and the Nottoway washa; while the Mohawk and the Oneida have the diverse oyerih, or oyelih, with the characteristic change of r into l. The form of the Mohawk for “one thousand,” oyerihnadewunnyaweh, is an interesting illustration of the progressive development of numbers. Na is probably a contraction of nikonh, “of them,” or “of it,”—the whole reading “of them ten hundred.”

In comparing the languages of the different members of the Iroquois confederacy with the Wyandot or Huron, some of the facts already noted in the history of the former have to be kept in view. Two and a half centuries have transpired since the three western nations of the confederacy, the Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas received great additions to their numbers by the successive adoption of Attiwendaronk, Huron, and Erie captives, while the Caniengas, or Mohawks, and the Oneidas remained unaffected by such intrusions. There is direct evidence that the Onondaga language has undergone great change; as a Jesuit dictionary of the seventeenth century exists which shows a much nearer resemblance between the Mohawk and Onondaga languages at that date than now appears. Allowance must be made for similar changes affecting the Hurons in their enforced migration from the St. Lawrence to their later homes. Here, as in so many other instances, it becomes interesting to note how the language of a people reflects its history.

In tracing out slighter and more remote resemblances, such as may be discerned on a close scrutiny, where the variation between the Hochelaga and the modern Wyandot numerals is widest, the different sources of change have to be kept in view. In all such comparisons, moreover, allowance must be made for the phonetic reproduction of unfamiliar words learned solely by ear, as well as for the peculiar representation of the nasal sounds in their reduction to writing by a French or English transcriber.

The tradition, mentioned by Dooyentate, of Senecas and Wyandots living in friendly contiguity on the Island of Montreal in the sixteenth century, naturally suggests the probability that their dialects did not greatly differ. Certain noticeable resemblances between the Seneca and the Wyandot numerals have been noted above, but it is only their modern forms that are thus open to comparison; and in the process of phonetic decay the Seneca has suffered the greatest change. But after making every allowance for modifications wrought by time, by adoption of strangers into the tribe, and other internal sources of change, as well as for the imperfection of Cartier’s renderings of the Hochelaga tongue, and for subsequent errors of transcribers and printers, there still remains satisfactory evidence of relationship between nearly half of Cartier’s vocabulary and the corresponding words of the Wyandot tongue. A comparison has been made between the Hochelaga numerals and those of the Wyandots of Anderdon. In the comparative table of numerals given on page [292], I have placed alongside of the old Hochelaga series derived from Cartier’s lists those now in use among the Hurons of Lorette, as supplied to me by M. Paul Picard, the son of the late Huron chief. In the third column another version of the Wyandot numerals is given, from Gallatin’s comparative vocabulary. It is derived from different sources, including the United States War Department; and therefore, no doubt, illustrates the changes which the language has undergone among the Wyandots on their remote Texas reserve. Gallatin also gives another version of Huron numerals derived from Sagard. It will be seen that M. Picard used the t as in Cartier’s lists, and in that of the southern Wyandots, where the d is employed in others, except in the Nottoway numerals, where the use of both is, no doubt, due to the English transcriber. In comparing the different lists, this variation in orthography and also the interchangeable k and g have to be kept in view. Thus the Cayuga has dekrunh, in the Oneida dekelonh, where the Tuscarora has nagronh. But the Huron tendi, in use now both at Lorette and Anderdon, shows the result of long intercourse with Europeans begetting an appreciation of their discrimination between the hard and soft consonants. Had the whole series been derived from one source, such orthographic variations would have disappeared. The lists have been furnished to me by the Rev. J. G. Vincent and M. Picard, educated Hurons; L. A. Dorion, an educated Iroquois; Dr. Oronhyatekha, an educated Mohawk; Mr. Horatio Hale; and also from Gallatin’s valuable comparative tables of Indian vocabularies in the Archæologia Americana. In the Synopsis of the Indian Tribes, to which these vocabularies form an appendix, Gallatin classed both the Tuteloes and the Nottoways, along with the Tuscaroras, as southern Iroquois tribes. But recent researches of Mr. Hale have established the true place of the Tuteloes to be with the Dakotan, and not the Huron-Iroquois family. It is otherwise with the Cherohakahs, or Nottoways, whose home was in south-eastern Virginia, where their memory is perpetuated in the name of the river on which they dwelt. At the close of the seventeenth century they still numbered 130 warriors, or about 700 in all; but twenty years later, of the whole tribe only twenty souls survived. At that date two vocabularies of the language were obtained, which furnish satisfactory evidence of the correctness of their classification among southern Iroquois tribes. Their numerals, as shown in the tables, approximate, as might be anticipated, to those of the Tuscaroras, at least in the majority of the primary numbers; whereas those of the Tuteloes are totally dissimilar. As to the Basque numerals introduced alongside of them in the comparative tables, they only suffice to show that the pre-Aryan language still spoken, in varying dialects, on both slopes of the Pyrenees, differed equally widely from the Aryan languages of Europe, and from the Iroquois or any other known American language, except in so far as the latter are agglutinative in structure. Van Eys, in his Basque Grammar, draws attention to the words buluzkorri, and larrugori, “naked”; the first of which literally signifies “red hair,” and the second “red skin.” They are interesting illustrations of the way in which important historical facts lie embedded in ancient languages. But the colour of the hair forbids the inference that the ruddy Basques of primitive centuries were akin to the “Redskins” of the New World.

The phonology of the Iroquois languages is notable in other respects besides those already referred to. According to M. Cuoq, an able philologist, who has laboured for many years as a missionary among the Iroquois of the Province of Quebec, the sounds are so simple that he considers an alphabet of twelve letters sufficient for their indication: a, e, f, h, i, k, n, o, r, s, t, w. The transliterations noticeable in the various Iroquois dialects, follow a well-known phonetic law. Thus the l and r are interchangeable, as ronkwe, “man,” in the Mohawk, becomes in the Oneida lonhwe; raxha, “boy,” becomes laxha; rakeniha, “my father,” becomes lakenih, etc. The same is seen throughout the compound numerals from “eleven” onward. The Cayuga and Tuscarora most nearly approach to the Mohawk in this use of the r. A characteristic change of a different kind is seen in the grammatical value of the initial r in the Mohawk in relation to gender. For example, onkwe is applied to mankind, as distinguished from karyoh, “the brute.” It becomes ronkwe, “man,” yonkwe “woman.” So also raxah, “boy,” changes to kaxha, “girl”; rihyeinah, “my son,” to kheyenah, “my daughter,” etc. The change of gender is further illustrated in such examples as raohih, his apple; raoyen, his arrow; ahkohih, her apple; ahkoyen, her arrow; raonahih (masc.), aonahih (fem.), their apples; raodiyenkwireh (masc.), aodiyenkwireh (fem.), their arrows, etc. But this arrangement of the formative element as a prefix is characteristic of American languages, though not peculiar to them. Thus Seshatsteaghseragwekough, Almighty God (literally, “Thou who hast all power, or strength”), becomes, in the third person, Rashatsteaghseragwekough.

The vowel sounds are very limited. No distinction is apparent in any Huron-Iroquois language between the o and the u. In writing it the e and u sounds are also often interchangeable. Where, for example, e is used in one set of the Tuscarora numerals supplied to me, another substitutes u for it wherever it is followed by an n; e.g. enjih, unjih; ahsenh, ahsunh; endah, undah, etc. So also the word for “man” is written for me in one case onkwe, and in another unkweh. It requires an acute and practised ear to discriminate the niceties of Indian pronunciation, and a no less practised tongue to satisfy the critical native ear. Dr. Oronhyatekha, when pressed to define the value of the t sound in his own name, replied “It is not quite t nor d.” The name is compounded of oronya, “blue,” the word used in the Prayer-Book for “heaven,” and yodakha, “burning.” In very similar terms, Asikinack, an educated Odahwah Indian, when asked by me whether we should say Ottawa, or Odawa—the Utawa of Morris’s “Canadian Boat Song,”—replied that the sound lay between the two,—a nicety discernible only by Indian ears.

The euphonic changes which mark the systematic transitions in the Mohawk language, though by no means peculiar to it, cannot fail to awaken an interest in the thoughtful student, who reflects on the social condition of the people among whom this elaborated vehicle of thought was the constraining power by means of which their chiefs and elders swayed the nations of the Iroquois confederacy with an eloquence more powerful and persuasive than that of many civilised nations. They have been illustrated in the verb; but the same systematic application of euphonic change through all the transitions of their vocabulary is seen in the elaborate word-sentences, so characteristic of the extreme length to which the incorporating mode of structure of the Turanian family of languages is carried in many of those spoken by the American nations. The habitual concentration of complex ideas in a single word has long been recognised, not only as giving a peculiar character to many of the Indian languages, but as one source of their adaptability to the aims of native oratory. From the Massachusetts Bible of Eliot, Professor Whitney quotes a word of eleven syllables; and Gallatin produces from the Cherokee another of seventeen syllables. This frequently embodies a descriptive holophrasm, and so aids the native rendering of novel objects and ideas into a language, the vocabulary of which is necessarily devoid of the requisite terms. But in such cases the agglutinative process is obvious, and the elements of the compounded word must be present to the mind of speaker and hearer. The English word “almighty” is itself an example of the process. It becomes in the Mohawk Prayer-Book seshatsteaghseragwekonh, from seshatsteh, “you are strong,” and ahkwekonh, “all,” or “the whole.” When the missionaries first undertook to render into the Mohawk language the Gospels and Service-Books for Christian worship, it may be doubted if many of their converts had ever seen a sheep. But they had to reproduce in Mohawk this general confession: “We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep.” They did it accordingly in this fashion: Teyagwaderyeadawearyesneoni yoegwathaharagwaghtha tsisahate tsiniyouht yodiyadaghtoeouh teyodinakaroetoeha, which may be literally rendered: “We make a mistake, and get off the track where your road is, the same as strayed animals with small horns.” The extreme literalness of the rendering may probably strike the mind of the English reader in a way that would not occur to the Indian, familiar with such descriptive holophrasms. But it illustrates a difficulty with which Eliot was very familiar when engaged on his Massachusetts Indian Bible. In translating, for example, the song of Deborah and Barak, where the mother of Sisera “cried through the lattice,” the good missionary looked in vain in the Indian wigwam for anything that corresponded to the term. At length he called an Indian and described to him a lattice as wicker-work, and obtained in response a rendering of the text which literally meant: “The mother of Sisera looked through an eel-pot.” It was the only kind of wicker-work of which the Indian had any knowledge.

Evidences of an exceptional development of the æsthetic faculty among the nations of the New World have already been noted; but the Iroquois cannot be included among those specially noticeable for their imitative powers, or in other ways furnishing evidence of any highly developed artistic faculty. They cannot compare in this respect with the Zuñi or others of the Pueblo Indians, among whom the arts of long-settled agricultural communities have been developed for purposes of ornament as well as utility; nor is their inferiority less questionable when we compare them with some of the tribes of the north-west coast and the neighbouring islands. Their languages confirm this; for while, as Mr. Cushing has shown, the Zuñi language possesses many words relating to art-processes, the Iroquois and Algonkin dialects supply such terms for the most part only in descriptive holophrasms, and not in primitive roots.