One thousand two hundred in numbers at present, living on their
reserve, near Buffalo, and within a few miles of Niagara Falls, in the
state of New York. This tribe formerly lived on the banks of the Seneca
and Cayuga lakes; but, like all the other tribes who have stood in the
way of the “march of civilization,” have repeatedly bargained away
their country, and removed to the West; which easily accounts for the
origin of the familiar phrase that is used amongst them, that “they are
going to the setting sun.”
This tribe, when first known to the civilized world, contained some
eight or ten thousand; and from their position in the centre of the
state of New York, held an important place in its history. The Senecas
were one of the most numerous and effective tribes, constituting the
compact called the “Six Nations;” which was a confederacy formed by
six tribes, who joined in a league as an effective mode of gaining
strength, and preserving themselves by combined efforts which would be
sufficiently strong to withstand the assaults of neighbouring tribes,
or to resist the incursions of white people in their country. This
confederacy consisted of the Senecas, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas,
Mohawks, and Tuskaroras; and until the innovations of white people,
with their destructive engines of war—with whiskey and small-pox, they
held their sway in the country, carrying victory, and consequently
terror and dismay, wherever they warred. Their war-parties were
fearlessly sent into Connecticut and Massachusetts, to Virginia, and
even to the Carolinas, and victory everywhere crowned their efforts.
Their combined strength, however, in all its might, poor fellows, was
not enough to withstand the siege of their insidious foes—a destroying
flood that has risen and advanced, like a flood-tide upon them, and
covered their country; has broken up their strong holds, has driven
them from land to land; and in their retreat, has drowned the most of
them in its waves.
The Senecas are the most numerous remnant of this compact; and have
at their head an aged and very distinguished chief, familiarly known
throughout the United States, by the name of _Red Jacket_ (+plate+
205). I painted this portrait from the life, in the costume in which he
is represented; and indulged him also, in the wish he expressed, “that
he might be seen standing on the Table Rock, at the Falls of Niagara;
about which place he thought his spirit would linger after he was dead.”
_Good Hunter_ (+plate+ 203), and _Hard Hickory_ (+plate+ 204), are
fair specimens of the warriors of this tribe or rather hunters;
or perhaps, still more correctly speaking, _farmers_; for the Senecas
have had no battles to fight lately, and very little game to kill,
except squirrels and pheasants; and their hands are turned to the
plough, having become, most of them, tolerable farmers; raising the
necessaries, and many of the luxuries of life, from the soil.
[Illustration: 201 202]
[Illustration: 203 204]
[Illustration: 205]
Of this interesting tribe, the visitors to my Gallery will find several
other portraits and paintings of their customs; and in books that have
been written, and are being compiled, a much more able and faithful
account than I can give in an epistle of this kind.
The fame as well as the face of Red Jacket, is generally familiar
to the citizens of the United States and the Canadas; and for the
information of those who have not known him, I will briefly say, that
he has been for many years the head chief of the scattered remnants of
that once powerful compact, the Six Nations; a part of whom reside on
their reservations in the vicinity of the Senecas, amounting perhaps in
all, to about four thousand, and owning some two hundred thousand acres
of fine lands. Of this Confederacy, the Mohawks and Cayugas, chiefly
emigrated to Canada, some fifty years ago, leaving the Senecas, the
Tuskaroras, Oneidas, and Onondagas in the state of New York, on fine
tracts of lands, completely surrounded with white population; who by
industry and enterprize, are making the Indian lands too valuable to be
long in their possession, who will no doubt be induced to sell out to
the Government, or, in other words, to exchange them for lands West of
the Mississippi, where it is the avowed intention of the Government to
remove all the border tribes.[14]
Red Jacket has been reputed one of the greatest orators of his day;
and, no doubt, more distinguished for his eloquence and his influence
in council, than as a warrior, in which character I think history
has not said much of him. This may be owing, in a great measure, to
the fact that the wars of his nation were chiefly fought before his
fighting days; and that the greater part of his life and his talents
have been spent with his tribe, during its downfall; where, instead of
the horrors of Indian wars, they have had a more fatal and destructive
enemy to encounter, in the insidious encroachments of pale faces,
which he has been for many years exerting his eloquence and all his
talents to resist. Poor old chief—not all the eloquence of Cicero
and Demosthenes would be able to avert the calamity, that awaits his
declining nation—to resist the despoiling hand of mercenary white man,
that opens and spreads liberally, but to entrap the unwary and ignorant
within its withering grasp.
This talented old man has for many years past, strenuously remonstrated
both to the Governor of New York, and the President of the United
States, against the continual encroachments of white people; whom he
represented as using every endeavour to wrest from them their lands—to
destroy their game, introducing vices of a horrible character, and
unknown to his people by nature! and most vehemently of all, has he
continually remonstrated against the preaching of missionaries in his
tribe; alleging, that the “black coats” (as he calls the clergymen),
did more mischief than good in his tribe, by creating doubts and
dissensions amongst his people! which are destructive of his peace, and
dangerous to the success, and even _existence_ of his tribe. Like many
other great men who endeavour to soothe broken and painful feelings, by
the kindness of the bottle, he has long since taken up whiskey-drinking
to excess; and much of his time, lies drunk in his cabin, or under
the corner of a fence, or wherever else its _kindness_ urges the
necessity of his dropping his helpless body and limbs, to indulge
in the delightful _spell_. He is as great a drunkard as some of our
most distinguished law-givers and law-makers; and yet _ten times more
culpable_, as he has little to do in life, and wields the destinies of
a nation in his hands![15]
There are no better people to be found, than the Seneca Indians—none
that I know of that are by Nature more talented and ingenious; nor any
that would be found to be better neighbours, if the arts and abuses of
white men and whiskey, could be kept away from them. They have mostly
laid down their hunting habits, and become efficient farmers, raising
fine crops of corn, and a great abundance of hogs, cattle and horses,
and other necessaries and luxuries of life.