the French and Indian War. Of the married life of this couple there
is little record. It is quite certain, however, that it was of short
duration and that the trader concerned gathered together his effects
and went the lighthearted way of other traders before him, and was
never heard of again. The babe born to this deserted mother soon
afterwards was called by the Cherokees George Gist, presumably the
name of the father, while the mother bestowed upon the infant the more
musical name of Sequoyah.
Tradition has it that the mother of Sequoyah was a woman of no common
character and energy. To the end she remained true to her faithless
husband and lived alone, maintaining herself by her own efforts and
caring for her babe with a devotion that would put many of her
more polished sisters to shame. Unaided, she cleared a little patch,
carrying her babe about while she broke the ground with a short stick
and planted it with Indian corn. “That she is a woman of some capacity
is evident from the undeviating affections for herself which she
inspired in her son, and the influence she exercised over him. This
is all the more extraordinary since Indian women are looked upon in
the light of servants rather than companions of man, and males are
taught early to despise the character and occupations of women.” But
with Sequoyah it seems to have been otherwise, for he carried a lofty
respect for his mother to the grave.
[Illustration: SEQUOYAH
From original painting made in 1828]
As a babe, it is said that Sequoyah had an air of infantile gravity
about him which was emphasized by a contemplative light which shone
in his little black eyes. As a boy he was much alone and thoughtful,
having no fondness for the rude sports of others of his age. He
preferred to assist his mother rather than to become proficient with
the bow. It is said that he occupied his boyish leisure carving milk
pails, skimmers, and other useful objects, displaying at this early age
the mechanical side of his genius. He even milked the few cows with
which fortune had favored his mother, and on occasions aided her in her
labors in the field. This failure to scorn a woman’s pursuit and trim
his sail to the unchanging breeze of Indian tradition only brought
down on him a torrent of abuse from grey-beards and caused youths to
rail at him like chattering birds. Young Sequoyah, however, calmly and
silently bore all this disgrace and followed the dictates of his reason
with unflinching gravity—a characteristic he displayed throughout his
life and which some hold as the keystone of his greatness.
When Sequoyah attained manhood’s estate, the Thirteen Colonies had won
their independence, and Daniel Boone had led the first settlers into
the blue grass country of the Cumberland. In these times the English,
French, and Spanish hotly vied with each other for the control of
the valuable fur trade of the “Old Southwest,” and their pack-trains
threaded their way out of Cherokee country in unceasing strings,
bearing the rich peltry of the wilderness. In this work of destruction
of wild life the Indian had innocently come to play, by far, the major
role. Nor is it altogether improbable that Sequoyah, who by now had
become a hunter, aided in the extermination of the buffalo that still
lingered in the valleys of the Ohio and the Tennessee.
It is also likely that Sequoyah would not have escaped the degradation
into which the red man was falling had not an accident befallen him
while hunting which rendered him a cripple for the rest of his life.
The coming of the rifle, a new and powerful sinew of war, and of the
chase, brought in its train a hopeless dependence on unscrupulous
traders for powder and lead. The introduction of whiskey further
conspired in the ruin of a proud people. Drinking had become the pledge
of cordiality on the frontier, and Sequoyah had become as much addicted
to the vice as his fellow hunters. Later events proved that Sequoyah
possessed an intellect elevated above the sphere in which it was
placed. Had he not become a cripple, however, it is doubtful whether
he would have meditated upon the decaying fortunes of his race, which
meditation led him to make his remarkable invention. Thus, paradoxical
as it may at first appear, misfortune often precipitates a chain of
events that ultimately end in accomplishment of great import.
Unable to follow the pursuits of manhood, Sequoyah now faced the
humiliation of donning petticoats and of performing the servile labors
of woman’s lot among the Cherokees. Such a prospect would, indeed,
have broken the spirit of an ordinary Indian, and especially so if a
stain had been affixed to his character such as that which Sequoyah
had incurred in his youth by assisting his mother. But it must be
remembered that Sequoyah was not of common clay. The traits manifested
in infancy and boyhood now stood him in good stead and opportunity was
given to bring them to fruition. One trait, an extraordinary mechanical
ability, was first pressed into service; the other, a remarkably
analytical and philosophical mind, was given leisure in which to
become mellow, until, in the ripeness of time, it should find its
proper exercise.
The Cherokees were a people fond of display. It occurred to the
intuitive mind of Sequoyah that an opulent livelihood could be secured
in the manufacture of silver ornaments. As a hunter he had visited the
white settlements and had seen the blacksmiths smelt ore and fashion
trinkets. Endowed with good powers of observation and possessed of
an innate skill with his hands, he set to work without the aid of an
instructor to make his own bellows and tools. Within a comparatively
brief time he became a master in the art of silver working and in the
end became such an expert artisan that he developed this art to the
highest point attained by the Indians of North America.
Astonished, his people came to gaze upon one of their own race who
possessed the skill and ingenuity of the white man. Such uncommon
accomplishment merited high recognition. He became a wonder in their
eyes. The fame of his handiwork spread far and near, and they flocked
to his door, eager to give him employment. Then it was that Sequoyah
began to enjoy an unprecedented popularity. Affable, accommodating,
and unassuming, having a nature too truly great to be spoiled by the
recognition of his superiority, success only nourished the greater
qualities within him. The women especially attracted by his skill,
bestowed their smiles upon him, but, like Alexander, “he found a
counter charm in the beauty of self-government and sobriety and on the
strength of this passed them by, as so many statues.” The braves of the
tribe likewise courted his friendship and his shop became the center
for male gossip. Since Sequoyah was not lacking in the social graces
of his tribe and since the munificence of his table increased with his
fortune, he came more and more to spend his time in receiving visitors
and in discharging the duties of hospitality. Lastly, even the elders
of the tribe sought his favor and welcomed his voice in their councils.
Wishing to identify his wares, Sequoyah employed a literate half-breed,
Charles Hicks, to write his name, from which he made a die. With this
he stamped his name on all the silver he fabricated. Many of these
ornaments remain in the proud possession of the scattered and forgotten
remnants of the Cherokees. Prized beyond price, they are a reminder
of the glory of the past. Just as the crumbling ruins of antiquity
speak of the pride and pomp of yesterday, so do these treasured silver
objects remind their possessors of the Golden Age of the Cherokee.
As the years went on, Sequoyah’s philosophical nature ripened and
he came to ponder on the future of his fast dwindling race. This
problem was probably first brought to his attention during the social
gatherings held under his roof, for the Cherokees were sensitive to
the superiority of civilized man and quick to note the cardinal
points of difference between themselves and the whites. Often they had
wondered at the ability of the white man to “talk on paper.” But after
considerable inquiry they became convinced that the power of recording
and communicating thoughts by means of writing was the product of some
mysterious gift which the white man alone possessed. Nevertheless,
Sequoyah was unable to dismiss the problem as lightly from his mind as
his brethren had done. It was odious to Luther that the devil had all
the best tunes; likewise it was odious to Sequoyah that the white man
should have a monopoly on the power of written expression. At length
he decided that writing was not the result of sorcery, but a faculty
of the mind which could be acquired. Hence, he concluded that he could
solve this mystery and give his people “talking paper” like that of the
whites.
His reflections on this problem were further stimulated by the
progress of events. The day of the trader had passed, while that of
the settler had come. The swelling tide from Europe had settled around
the Cherokees, and the frontier of settlement had begun to continually
spill over into the Cherokee country. What was even more maddening,
encroachments were on the increase and held no promise of abating.
At last in despair, the Cherokees appealed to the “Great Father” in
Washington to stem the tide. A treaty followed, clipping away a
goodly portion of their ancestral domain. The ink on it was hardly dry
before another wrested from them still more thousands of acres of rich
land. In each treaty the Federal Government recognized the Cherokee
claims and titles and solemnly declared it to be “the last and final
adjustment of all claims and differences.” Obviously, the Cherokees
were shocked by these acts of treachery. The fact that the hand of the
“Great Father” was gloved and that it purported to throw continual
favors in their path did not make them less apprehensive of the menace.
Yet they were convinced of the folly of an appeal to arms through a
realization of the inequality of the struggle. Therefore, they did that
which no other Indian tribe in the face of calamity has ever done. They
attempted to combat civilization by becoming civilized themselves. At a
great council they organized themselves to form a Federal Union after
the United States, and set to cultivating the arts of peace and the
ways of civilization.
By this time Sequoyah had become imbued with the idea that the secret
of the white man’s superiority lay in his power of communication by
writing. Indeed, he struck a salient note here, for the invention
of writing has made tremendously for the superior advantages of
the civilized races over the primitive. “The mind and the pen have
ultimately, in all ages, been mightier than the sword. Rome, the
conquerer, was led in chains by Greece, who, though herself over-run
by barbaric Romans, compelled them to adopt, respect, and maintain her
institutions.” History, in fact, is replete with instances of people
who have been able to ward off the effects of conquest because they
were intellectually above their victors. But this superiority has
always preceded conquest; it has _never_ followed it. Unfortunately,
Sequoyah was ignorant of this. Nevertheless, the mere fact that such an
ideal had its birth in the mind of an untutored savage is sufficient to
vest it with sublimity.
Inspired with the thought of saving his people from conquest by giving
them the power of the pen, he took up his great work at the age of
forty-nine, in the last year of Jefferson’s Presidency. Ceasing his
labors as a silversmith, he began carving strange characters out of
bark and spending hours wrapped in thought. His fellow tribesmen were
unable to understand his singular behavior. They thought it but the
work of madness for their great silversmith to lay aside his hammer
and bellows, to quit his social circle, and of a sudden to become
seclusive. Sequoyah, however, refused to reveal his secret, knowing
full well the attitude of his fellow tribesmen in regard to the
impossibility of discovering a supposedly supernatural power of the
whites. His popularity suffered a quick decline, and his friends fell
away like leaves from Autumn trees attempting to justify their actions
by scoffing and sneering. Then Sequoyah began to taste in full
measure the vinegar of derision and to learn that gratitude is but a
lively sense of favors to come. Notwithstanding, he preserved the usual
calm behavior and serenity of mind that had attended him from infancy,
always turning from the storm without to the sunshine of hope within
him. And after twelve years—years of persevering labor and repeated
failure—years of ridicule in which his faith in his people must have
been sorely tried—he perfected his remarkable invention of the Cherokee
Alphabet.
[Illustration: THE INVINCIBLE SEQUOIA
The large fire-made cavity in the Haverford suggests the tree’s
great vitality
MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt]
It is a notable fact that the great works of the imagination have
usually been produced by men nearly innocent of schooling and
scholarship. Homer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Burns, and Abraham Lincoln
were all self-taught men. Sequoyah was an absolute illiterate, yet
he invented an alphabet. He had no acquaintanceship with the English
language, for he disdained the aid of missionaries, and for this reason
the most elemental principles of our alphabet were unknown to him. He
reasoned, and with no little correctness, that a knowledge of English
would be of no avail because of the peculiarities of the Cherokee
language. With his own unaided intellect he fashioned a syllabary so
extraordinary that it astonishes even the learned, and proved himself
a mental giant. Evidently he did not recognize the stops of the human
mind, which is almost wholly imitative. Indeed, some of his biographers
are unwilling to give him this honor, claiming that his invention
was not altogether free from borrowing. But for all that, there are
still those who hold that Bacon wrote that which is attributed to
Shakespeare. Because man shows an extreme poverty throughout the
history of invention, because he rarely tries to do over again that
which has been once accomplished, and because he is quicker to grasp
and more capable of appropriating, independent inventions are the
exception rather than the rule. It must be conceded, in all fairness,
that Sequoyah’s syllabary was an invention “par excellence.”
Having first conceived the notion that speech could be represented by
characters or signs and that if these signs were uniform they would
convey the idea intended by the writer, he set out to devise a symbol
for each word or idea of the Cherokee tongue. His first step, in other
words, was in the direction of the simple pictograph. As the experiment
progressed, however, his symbols multiplied fearfully, until, at the
end of three years he had thousands of them. It would have been almost
impossible for the human mind to retain such a complex multitude of
signs. Happily, Sequoyah had a sufficient sense of the practical to
realize this. Hence, he abandoned this experiment and started again by
making a study of the construction of language itself.
Even a people as cultivated as the Chinese have never made the next
stride which Sequoyah took. The Chinese still employ the lowest stage
of writing in all its absurd prolixity with the result that long years
of study and a memory above the average are required for its mastery.
This is largely the reason, too, why intellectual democracy is so
noticeably absent in China. The Chinese language is too elaborate
in structure, too laborious in use, and too inflexible in form to
thoroughly saturate China’s teeming millions and to meet the need of a
simple, swift, and lucid communication of thought. Our alphabet, on the
other hand, answers these requirements. “It is because the Egyptians
passed into the glory of the true alphabet that the Phoenicians
simplified and improved it, and that the Greeks were able to transmit
it to occidental civilization that western nations have been able to
make such tremendous mental progress and established such a wide and
common knowledge.” It is quite obvious that Sequoyah was not blundering
when he discarded his pictograph system if he would achieve his ideal.
After long and patient study he began a search for the unity of speech.
At length he discovered that _sound_ was the key in the construction
of language. Then by attentive listening for another period he
discovered that the sounds in the words spoken by the Cherokees could
be analyzed and classified and could be represented by hardly more
than a hundred syllables. Further analysis revealed two distinct types
of sounds, vowels and consonants. Classifying the sounds according
to this division, he found that there were six vowel and seventy-two
consonant sounds. Thirty-seven sounds still remained unclassified.
By dint of further analysis he found that these were of a hissing or
guttural nature. In an ingenious way he represented the former by seven
combinations and the latter by one. As a result, in this expeditious
manner he was able to write a copious language vastly wealthier in its
vocabulary than ours, with but eighty-five characters.
The best authorities are agreed that our alphabet is, in some respects,
the greatest invention of the human mind. Yet it is not the product of
a single mind, but the accretion of Egyptian, Phoenician, and Greek
wisdom extending over a period of at least three thousand years.
Excellent as our alphabet is, it fails to outrank that of Sequoyah in
point of felicity and ease of mastery. Ours is superior in that it
goes to the unit of speech, _sound_, and has characters that stand for
sound. Sequoyah’s alphabet had characters that stood for combinations
of sounds or syllables. Our alphabet is the only sound-for-a-sign
system of writing yet invented. It is an alphabet of letters, while
that of Sequoyah was an alphabet of syllables. James Mooney claims that
it ranks second to all systems of writing ever known to the world.
It certainly could not have been the work of other than a gigantic
intellect.
It was not without considerable difficulty that Sequoyah induced a few
skeptical and superstitious Cherokees to learn his alphabet after he
had completed it in 1811. These few who were the first to try it out
did so merely to expose the delusions of the alphabet-maker, but as the
lesson progressed, though they had come to scoff, they began to admire
until, finally, when the lesson was finished they were convinced that
the seemingly impossible had been achieved—that the Cherokees could
“talk on paper” like the whites. This time Sequoyah’s rise to fame was
meteoric. News of his invention spread like wildfire throughout the
tribe, and, at a public test made before the assembled Houses of the
Cherokee Congress, his alphabet was officially adopted as the means of
elevating the tribe. Sequoyah had become the Cadmus[7] of his nation.
Then occurred a spectacle without a parallel among primitive people;
that of gray-bearded savages studying in groups with unfettered zeal
in order to become the equal of the white man in knowledge. Almost
overnight the entire nation became an academy. To be able to read and
write became a craze with the Cherokees. Never was Plato’s fine phrase
of a people being “possessed and maddened with a passion for knowledge”
better exemplified. Mass meetings in abundance were held and the new
method of “talking on paper” was taught virtually wholesale. It was
even common to see groups teaching each other in cabins and along
the roadside. “Within a few months thousands of formerly illiterate
savages, without the aid of schools or the expense of time or money,
could read and write.” In fact, by the time the Monroe Doctrine was
promulgated in 1813, reading and writing had become so general among
the Cherokees that “they carried on a correspondence by letter between
different parts of the nation and were in the habit of making receipts
and giving promissory notes in affairs of trade. Directions were even
inscribed on trees indicating the different roads.”
This is manifest evidence of the ease with which Sequoyah’s syllabary
was learned. “In my own observation,” states Phillips, “Indian children
will take one or two years to master the English printed and written
language, but in a few days can read and write in Cherokee. They do
the latter, in fact, as soon as they learn to shape letters. As soon
as they master the alphabet they have got rid of all the perplexing
questions that puzzle the brains of our children. It is not too much to
say that a child will learn in a month by the same effort as thoroughly
in the language of Sequoyah that which in ours consumes the time of our
children for at least two years.”
Sequoyah next paid a visit to the Arkansas Cherokees. This band had
separated from the main body when the Cherokees decided to combat
civilization with civilization and had moved west where they could
enjoy the ancient ways of their ancestors. Though this body had spurned
all civilized innovations and had clung slavishly to tradition,
strangely enough, they readily seized the new art Sequoyah brought with
him and learned it with a zest that almost put their eastern brethren
in the shade.
In the Autumn of this same year, 1823, the Cherokee Council publicly
acknowledged Sequoyah’s service to the nation by sending him through
their President, the noted John Ross, a silver medal commemorative of
his achievement. So highly had the Cherokees come to esteem Sequoyah’s
greatness that five years later they elected him to represent them
in Washington. There he was cordially received and recognized as an
intellectual peer. On this occasion he sat for his portrait. The Treaty
of Washington of 1828 reveals that he still enjoyed high favor from the
Government, for it provided for a sum to be paid to Sequoyah and his
heirs “for the great benefits he has conferred upon the Cherokee people
in the beneficial results they are now experiencing from the use of the
alphabet discovered by him.” It is worthy to note that for many years
the Government paid this pension—_the only literary pension it has ever
paid_.
The Cherokees had now passed into a state of semi-civilization. They
had a National Congress which had passed laws against intemperance
and polygamy. They had a national press and a national newspaper, the
_Cherokee Phoenix_. The first copy of this unique paper appeared on
February 18, 1828. It was printed in both English and Cherokee by a
hand press which had been purchased in Boston, shipped by water to
Augusta, Georgia, and then transported laboriously by wagon over two
hundred miles to the Cherokee national capital. Such a journalistic
record is without rival in primitive society, and the _Cherokee
Phoenix_ holds the honor of being the father of all aboriginal
newspapers.
Rapid strides, economically as well as politically and intellectually,
had been made. Many Cherokees had amassed considerable wealth and
enjoyed some of the refinements and luxuries of a more polished
society. The majority of them possessed herds of cattle, together
with horses, hogs, and sheep. Husbandry was so efficiently practiced
that some products were actually exported, as evidenced by the large
cargoes of wheat and tobacco that were floated on flat-boats down
the Tennessee to New Orleans. The manufacture of woolen and cotton
cloth had even assumed a productiveness permitting of exportation. In
short, prosperity was on the boom and everything augured well for the
Cherokees’ happy attainment of civilization.