The old home of the Cherokees was in the beautiful mountain region of the
South—in Georgia, North Carolina, and Tennessee, but especially in
Georgia. They were Indians of great strength of character, and ready for
improvement and progress. When Oglethorpe settled Georgia, the Cherokees
were his friends and allies. But after our government was established, the
tribe, which had been so friendly to the whites, began to suffer from our
encroachments. Treaties were made with them only to be broken. Little by
little, the Indians were crowded back: sacred promises made by our
government were not fulfilled.
Finally they refused to cede any more of their land to the greedy white
settlers, and demanded that the United States protect them in their
rights. The quarrel was now one between the United States and Georgia, and
the central government found itself unable to keep its pledges. So orders
were given that the Cherokees should be removed, even against their wish,
to a new home.
At this time the Cherokees were most happy and prosperous. Their country
was one of the most lovely portions of our land. A writer says: “The
climate is delicious and healthy; the winters are mild; the spring clothes
the ground with the richest scenery; flowers of exquisite beauty and
variegated hues meet and fascinate the eye in every direction. In the
plains and valleys the soil is generally rich, producing Indian corn,
wheat, oats, indigo, and sweet and Irish potatoes. The natives carry on
considerable trade with the adjoining states; some of them export cotton
in boats down the Tennessee to the Mississippi, and down that river to New
Orleans. Apple and peach orchards are quite common, and gardens are
cultivated, and much attention paid to them. Butter and cheese are seen on
Cherokee tables. There are many public roads in the nation, and houses of
entertainment kept by natives. Numerous and flourishing villages are seen
in every section of the country. Cotton and woolen cloths are
manufactured; blankets of various dimensions, manufactured by Cherokee
hands, are very common. Almost every family in the nation grows cotton for
its own consumption. Industry and commercial enterprise are extending
themselves in every part. Nearly all the merchants in the nation are
native Cherokees. Agricultural pursuits engage the chief attention of the
people. Different branches of mechanics are pursued. The population is
rapidly increasing.”
This was written in 1825. Only about ten years later, this happy,
industrious, and prosperous people were removed by force from their so
greatly loved home. Two years were allowed in which they must vacate lands
that belonged to them, and which the United States had pledged should be
always theirs. Few of them were gone when the two years had ended. In May,
1838, General Winfield Scott was sent with an army to remove them. He
issued a proclamation which began as follows:—
“CHEROKEES,—The President of the United States has sent me with a powerful
army to cause you, in accordance with the treaty of 1835, to join that
part of your people who are already established on the other side of the
Mississippi. Unhappily, the two years which were allowed for the purpose
you have allowed to pass away without following, and without making any
preparations to follow; and now, or by the time that this solemn address
reaches your distant settlements, the emigration must be commenced in
haste, but I hope without disorder. I have no power, by granting a further
delay, to correct the error you have committed. The full moon of May is
already on the wane, and before another shall have passed away, every
Cherokee man, woman, and child in these states(1) must be in motion to
join their brethren in the West.”
And so this harmless, helpless people left for their long journey. Their
only offense was that they owned land which the whites wanted. There are
still old Indians who remember the “great removal.” Most of them were
little children then, but the sad leaving their beloved mountains and the
sorrow and hardship of the long journey is remembered after sixty years.
A few years since, we visited the Eastern Cherokees. Perhaps two thousand
of them now live in the mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee. Some of
these are persons who never went to the Indian Territory, but hid
themselves in rocks and caves until the soldiers were gone; some ran away
from the great company as it moved westward, trudging back a long and
toilsome journey; some are the children and grandchildren of such
refugees; some are persons who drifted back in later years to the hills
and forests, the springs and brooks, which their fathers had known and
loved. They are mostly poor,—unlike their relatives in the West,—but they
are industrious and happy. Their log houses are scattered over the
mountain slopes or perched upon the tops of ridges or clustered together
in little villages in the pretty valleys. Their fields are fenced and well
cultivated. They work them in companies of ten or twelve persons; such
companies are formed to work the fields of each member in order. They
dress like white people, and most of the old Indian life is gone.
Still there are some bits of it left. The women are basket-makers, and
make baskets of wide splints of cane, plain or dyed black or red, which
are interwoven to make striking patterns. Some old women weave
artistically shaped baskets from slender splints of oak. Old Catolsta,
more than ninety years old, still shapes pottery vessels and marks them
with ornamental patterns which are cut upon a little paddle of wood, and
stamped on the soft clay by beating it with the paddle. They still
sometimes use the bow and arrow, though more in sport than in earnest, as
most of them have white men’s guns. The arrow race is still sometimes run.
Several young men start out together, each with his bow and arrows. The
arrows are shot out over the course; they run as fast as possible to where
these fall and picking them up shoot them on at once. And so they go on
over the whole course, each trying to get through first. Ball is largely a
thing of the past, and great games are not common. Still there are rackets
at many houses. One day we got a “scratcher” from old Hoyoneta, once a
great medicine man for ball-players. This scratcher consisted of seven
splinters of bone, sharpened at one end and inserted into a quill frame
which held them firmly, separated from one another by about a quarter of
an inch or less. When a young man was about to play his first great game
of ball, he went to Hoyoneta, or some other medicine man, to be scratched.
[Illustration.]