There seems ground to question whether the substitution of a smattering
of broken English for the flexibility and picturesque expressiveness of
an indigenous tongue, thoroughly understood, carries with it any great
intellectual gain, though to suggest such a doubt is treason to some
minds. The time threatens when all the world will speak two or three
great languages, when all little tongues will be extinct and all little
peoples swallowed up, when all costume will be reduced to a dead level
of blue jeans and shoddy and all strange customs abolished. The world
will be a much less interesting world then; the spice and savour of the
ends of the earth will be gone. Nor does it always appear unquestionable
that the world will be the better or the happier. The advance of
civilisation would be a great thing to work for if we were quite sure
what we meant by it and what its goal is. To the ordinary government
school-teacher in Alaska, with some notable exceptions, it seems to
mean chiefly teaching the Indians to call themselves Mr. and Mrs. and
teaching the women to wear millinery, with a contemptuous attitude
toward the native language and all native customs. The less intelligent
grade of missionary sometimes falls into the same easy rut. So letters
pass through the post-offices addressed: "Mr. Pretty Henry," "Mrs.
Monkey Bill," "Miss Sally Shortandirty"; so, occasionally, the grotesque
spectacle may present itself, to the passengers on a steamer, of a
native woman in a "Merry Widow" hat and a blood-stained parkee gutting
salmon on the river bank.
The nobler ideal, as it seems to some of us, is to labour for
God-fearing, self-respecting Indians rather than imitation white men and
white women. An Indian who is honest, healthy and kindly, skilled in
hunting and trapping, versed in his native Bible and liturgy, even
though he be entirely ignorant of English and have acquired no taste for
canned fruit and know not when Columbus discovered America, may be very
much of a man in that station of life in which it has pleased God to
call him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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