THE DARKEST PAGE OF INDIAN HISTORY.
The history of Treaties is by far the darkest of all the pages of
Indian history. War and bloodshed are terrible,—terrible indeed; the
stories of massacres chill the blood in our veins; and the bitter
strife of war is revolting to all the finer feelings of our nature. But
there has been a far more bitter strife of treaties, at which the heart
bleeds, and the spirit moans.
When the Six Nations were fairly subdued, and settled on the free
reservations which were left to them in the western part of New York,
if they could have remained undisturbed, and experienced no more wrong
or dishonor, they would soon have adopted the arts of civilization;
and, through the instructions of the missionaries, have become a
Christian people.
But the echo of the warwhoop and the booming cannon had no sooner died
away, than there came among them an army of serpents in human form,
wearing the semblance of angels of light. These were land speculators;
and there is no species of bribery or corruption within the power of
man to which they did not resort, in order to drive the Indians
entirely from our borders.
By this means they were kept in a constantly unsettled state, so that
for many years the labors of the missionaries seemed utterly in vain.
Some of the chiefs would now and then yield to bribery, and some to
deception, and conclude to give up all they possessed, and remove
beyond the Mississippi. And, as late as 1846, an emigration party was
formed, and more than a hundred departed to the western wilds, where
more than half of them perished before the end of a year.
By a gross and wicked fraud, the Buffalo reservation was finally
obtained, so that the Indians were all obliged to move from their
comfortable homes and well-tilled fields, and commence anew in the
forests to fell trees, and plough, and plant, and sow. By a similar
fraud, the Tonawanda reservation was claimed; but the chiefs and people
would not remove, saying the treaty had never been signed by any member
of those who had the power to make contracts, and they had no desire to
part with another acre of their lands to white men. So the case is
still in the courts, where thousands of dollars have been spent in an
offensive and defensive war of words and quibbles. But the Indians now
have lawyers among themselves, and firm friends and able counsellors
among white people, and it is hoped the right will yet prevail.
During these troublous times there were many affecting appeals made to
societies and the Government, which, one would think, might melt hearts
of stone, and prove, too, that eloquence did not die with Red Jacket or
Cornplanter.
These troubles, too, rallied around them many friends, especially among
the Quakers, and awakened sympathy and renewed effort in their behalf.
A few extracts from letters, written by those who defended them in the
hour of their calamity, and from the speeches of some of their Chiefs,
a few of whom are still living, will give some idea of what the Indian
is in a civilized state, when literally seated by his fireside.
Extract from a Report, made by a deputation of Friends, to investigate
the true nature of the differences between the land speculators and the
Indians:—
“It has been common for those who would deprive the Indians of their
lands, first to describe them as ignorant, or stupid, or savage; and
then, ‘for such worthy cause, to deem them as their lawful prey,’ to
put them out of the pale of civilization, and then shut upon them the
gate of mercy.
“But it is not true, that these remnants of the Six Nations are either
barbarous or vicious. On the contrary, they are an innocent and
improving people. Feeling their own weakness they have been forced to
yield to oppression and injury; but they are neither quarrelsome nor
vindictive. They are the remnant of a bold, warlike, and highly gifted
race; fallen indeed from the dizzy height of a tremendous political and
physical power, but bearing that fall with patience and dignity;
inspiring respect, and rendering them objects of intense interest to
the philanthropist and philosopher.
“These New York Indians, like all other communities of mankind, present
great varieties of character and grades of intellect, but as a people,
perhaps none of the aborigines of North America have equalled them in
all the manifestations of mental power. They have not had the use of
letters to store their minds with knowledge, or to record their own
achievements; yet we know that they have had many great and talented
men among them, who, making a very moderate allowance for the want of
education, would not suffer by comparison with the greatest of European
competitors. They have from the earliest times been considered a very
extraordinary race, distinguished from all the surrounding nations by
their capacity for negotiation, eloquence, and war. Remarkable for the
love of liberty, they scorned submission to foreign control. Baron La
Houtan says of them, ‘They laugh at the menaces of kings and governors,
for they have no idea of dependence—the very word to them is
insupportable. They look upon themselves as sovereigns, accountable to
none but God, whom they call the Great Spirit.’
“De Witt Clinton in his history of the Six Nations informs us, that
they held supremacy over a country of amazing extent and fertility,
inhabited by warlike and numerous nations, which must have been the
result of unity of design and system of action, proceeding from a wise
and energetic policy, continued for a long course of time. That in
eloquence and dignity, and in all the characteristics of personal
policy, they surpass an assembly of feudal barons.
“Their territory was estimated at 1,200 miles long by 700 broad,
including the great lakes or inland seas which bound our possessions to
the north. Among their orators they had a Garangula, a Cornplanter, a
Red Jacket, and a Big Kettle, of whom an elegant writer has said, ‘they
were men whose majesty of mind shone with a lustre that no belittling
appellations could bedim.’ President Jefferson says, ‘I may challenge
the whole orations of Demosthenes and Cicero, and of any more eminent
orator, if Europe has furnished more eminent, to produce a single
passage superior to the speech of Logan; yet this Logan was the son of
a Cayuga chief, a Sachem of the New York Indians.’
“When the news spread among them that the treaty was signed, and their
land sold, there was unutterable sorrow. To the poor Senecas it was ‘a
day of darkness and of gloominess, of clouds and of thick darkness,’
through which a ray of gladness could not penetrate. Consternation and
gloom covered their settlements. Their women were seen on all sides
weeping in their houses—along their roads—as they passed to their
occupations, and in the fields whilst engaged in their labors. One of
their chiefs, in a speech on the occasion said, ‘It seems as if we
should be worn down. When we see our fields covered with grain, and our
orchards loaded with fruit, it only increases our sorrows.’ The settled
and expressive gloom that was manifested upon their countenances and
deportment attested the reality of their sorrows.
“The cruelty of the attempt to drive the Indians away at this time was
enhanced by the consideration that within the last half century, under
the care of Friends, they had made great advances in civilization. They
had good houses, barns, horses, wagons, horned cattle, sheep, swine,
and farming utensils. They had places of worship and schools, many of
them could read and write, and had books and private libraries. They
had good farms, and some skill in agriculture. It would be far less
cruel to drive the surrounding white population into the deserts beyond
the Missouri, than to send there the Seneca Indians. The former would
soon gather around them all the comforts of life—the latter would soon
scatter, or perish for ever.”
The following is a communication to the Society of Friends at
Baltimore, from twenty Chiefs of the Seneca Nation, making known their
troubles.
Cattaraugus in Council, Oct. 5, 1845.
To the Committee of Friends,
“Brothers:—We are informed you are soon to hold a great Council in
Baltimore, on the subject of our affairs. We pray the Great Spirit may
strengthen you, and give you wisdom and direct you aright in all your
deliberations.
“Brothers:—We know you love us; the Great Spirit has taught you to do
so. Your ears have been open to hear our cries, and your hearts
inclined to help us in our distress. We cannot reward you; we have
nothing to give you in return but our love and gratitude. This you have
full and complete.
“Brothers:—When your fathers were weak and ours were strong, the Great
Spirit led them to believe you were their friends; they helped you in
your childlike condition. Things have changed! You have become great
and strong, and we poor and weak. You are now paying us for what our
fathers have done.
“Brothers:—Our troubles are great indeed. This you are sensible of, and
have done much to relieve us in our distress; but the chains of the
white men have grown, and continue to grow tight upon us at the loss
and expense of our substance. They multiply, and become too heavy for
us to endure.
“Brothers:—We have none (on earth) to look to for aid and protection,
but you. When you forsake us, all is lost. Our wives and daughters wet
their pillows with their tears, and pray the Great Spirit to keep your
ears open that you may hear their cries.
“Brothers:—We have but little to say; our mouths are almost closed. Our
hopes are in you. Farewell.”
Extract from an address to the Committee of the Four Yearly Meetings of
Friends of New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Genesee, by several
Indian Chiefs.
“When we turn our faces backward, and look over the histories of the
past, we find that more than fifty winters have gone by since the
Iroquois, or Six Nations, first selected the Society of Friends as
their friends, upon whom they could repose confidence without fear of
being betrayed.
“The selection was made from the sects and denominations of those who
styled themselves Christians, at the time when war had diminished the
members of the Iroquois braves—when the Iroquois bowstring had been
broken—when his council fires were nearly put out by the blood of his
people, and the loud thundering voices of the big iron guns of the pale
faces caused the ground to tremble beneath his feet, and his council
house to shake to its very foundation—when oppression crushed the
Iroquois, and cruelty made his heart bleed—when murder and robbery
committed upon the red man, brought bounty to the spoiler committing
the foul deed,—when the pale-faces, like hungry hounds, chased the red
man from his hunting grounds.
“It was then that the red man’s sun was darkened, and the Great Spirit
had drawn his sable garment before its shining face, and left his red
children to roam in gloom and uncertainty. In looking round, the
Iroquois saw none to assist him in his struggles for liberty, his
country, and his firesides,—he found no sympathy from the pale-faced
Christians, save from the Society of Friends, who, with the true
principle of the spirit of Christianity implanted in their breast,
guided by the dictation of the Good Spirit, and following the counsel
and mandates of Him who never errs, came to our relief; not with
powder, bullets, or arms, but with sympathy in their bosoms, pity in
their hearts, and friendship in their hands; and our tradition informs
us, that since the time this alliance was established between the
Society of Friends and our people; nothing has occurred to mar our
mutual understanding, or tarnish the chain of friendship that bound us
together.
“Brothers:—We hope that you may teach your children to love and pity
the red man; so that when the Master of life and light shall call you
hence, your red brothers may still have friends like you, and the good
understanding now existing between us, be for ever perpetuated and
cherished between your posterity and ours. For the services you have
rendered us, accept the gratitude of an injured and oppressed race, and
may the Great Spirit watch over and protect you.”
There were not at any time more than a fifteenth part of the whole
nation in favor of removal, and the consent of those few was obtained
by misrepresentation and bribery, for which sums were paid in different
ways and at different times to the amount of $32,000. And yet at one
time every rood of land was ceded, and the process of removal
commenced. It is due to the Society of Friends to state, that it was
through their persevering instrumentality that this great calamity was
averted.
Among the most noble and venerable of the Seneca Chiefs was
BIG KETTLE.
In his bosom glowed the loftiest patriotism, and on his brow beamed the
purest philanthropy. To him the sorrows of his people were the seeds of
death; they ate into his heart, and drank his life-blood. He mourned
over their desolation and wept over their sins.
“Oh, is there nothing we can do?” said he one morning to Mr. Wright,
the missionary, who remained among them when there was little he could
do but encourage them to resist unto the end, and pray that their
strength might not fail and who stood by them, ready for any service,
in the darkest hours of their adversity. “Is there nothing more we can
do? Yes, let us continue to petition,” was the answer, and an offer to
write whatever he would say.
The result was a remonstrance, which in his own language was pathetic
and touching in the extreme. On listening to it, I asked if in the
translation it was not embellished; and the reply was, that no
translation could do justice to the original. I can make only a few
extracts.
“First, as a people, without exception, we love the land of our birth,
the place of our fathers’ graves; and could we be permitted to retain
undisturbed possession of the gifts of God to our people, not one of us
would entertain a thought of emigration. We are satisfied with our
country, we neither ask nor seek a better one.
“But we are told we can never live in peace here; that the land of the
Indians’ peace is far towards the setting sun. Let us lay open our
hearts to your honorable body. We are troubled. Why should it be said
that we can have no peace here? The age, wisdom, and dignity of a great
nation are yours. You can resolve our doubts for us. The United States
have land enough. You have abundant means of communication. In all your
wide country, your steamboats, rail cars, and carriages can bear your
people whithersoever they wish to go. Neither have you any lack of
wealth, that your people should wish to become rich at our expense.
Neither have we given you any ground of complaint against us.
“We have fought by the side of one of your greatest generals. He still
lives to bear testimony to our fidelity. Yes, the blood of our chiefs
was shed on the battle-field for what you then told us was our common
country. It was mingled with the blood of your enemies slain by our
hands, and that too at your solicitation, at a time when you said you
stood in need of our aid. Why then can we have no peace in a land whose
peace we helped to buy at such a price?
“It is true we are now few and weak; you are numerous and mighty, but
you are also magnanimous. The great hearts which beat in the bosoms of
your chiefs and head men, would not let them oppress the remnant of any
nation almost wasted from the earth, much less the remnant of friends
who once fought and bled for them.
“It is true, indeed, we are almost wasted away. The smallest of your
ten thousand towns has in it more people than our whole nation. And can
it then be any satisfaction to the United States to set their foot upon
the neck of an old man, even now tottering into his grave? We cannot
understand these things. We wish, if we must all go into the grave, and
perish from the earth, to lie together in the same dust with our
forefathers. The strange, unhallowed earth of other lands will press
heavily upon our bosoms. It will be cold—we cannot sleep in such
graves.
“We cannot flourish there if our hearts are not there—if we go against
our will—if we are driven forth heart-broken and dispirited. No: men
will starve and perish in the most luxuriant soil on earth if compelled
to take possession of it under such circumstances. We must go
contentedly—we must go cheerfully, in order to be benefited by the kind
offers of the government; and, above all, we must go unitedly. The
bands which held us together have been torn. Now, the flames of strife
burn high between friends and brethren. If you push us off hastily
together, we shall only go to devour each other till we are consumed.
And even if we should not absolutely destroy each other, we could not
flourish. The oak riven by the thunderbolt will not grow again. A kind,
gentle hand might transplant sprout after sprout, and raise up perhaps
a forest there. But after the lightning’s shock, neither root nor
branch retains the power of germinating. What harm can our remaining do
you? What is the use of a few thousand acres of land to a nation like
the United States? But an honorable name—the love and friendship of
those whom God has placed under your care, and, above all, THE
CONSCIOUSNESS OF DOING RIGHT, will be of great importance.
“Thus we have laid open our hearts to you. Our warriors, and our women
and children will take their own way to make known their concurrence.
We hope you will attentively consider what we have said. We have
trespassed long upon your patience, but with HOME and COUNTRY,—our
fathers’ graves, and the honor of the United States at stake, we could
not have said less. May the Great Being who controls the counsels and
destinies of nations guide you to a right decision.”
Big Kettle furnished another gratifying instance that an Indian could
resist temptation, and maintain his integrity through the darkest hours
of adversity and the most aggravating wrongs. There are many among his
own people and among white men, who knew him, who pronounce him a
greater man than Red Jacket. He lived to a later day, and felt more
keenly, if this were possible, the woes which seemed to fall thicker
and faster upon the Indian as years wore on. His head was always clear,
for not a drop of the fire-water ever touched his lips. There was a
more softened dignity in his deportment and more affability in his
manners than was experienced in intercourse with Red Jacket. He had
finer sensibilities, and though there is a vein of sarcasm often in his
speeches, it was not so bitter as that which ran through almost every
thing Red Jacket said. He remained a Pagan to the day of his death,
though he seemed to lose some of his interest in Pagan ceremonies. He
endeavored earnestly to elevate his people, and promote a true spirit
of morality. A distinguished statesman and infidel who proposed
establishing a school for propagating infidelity, once fell into
company with Big Kettle, and attempted to convince him that there was
no God, and to prejudice him against the missionaries, and excite him
to bitter enmity against religion; but the Indian’s trust in the Great
Spirit was not moved, and though he did not understand the Christian’s
God, his sagacious mind quickly discovered the fallacy of the atheist’s
arguments, and he was thoroughly disgusted with his coarse manners and
conversation, and the want of principle which was manifest in his
motives.
He said he was led to abjure the fire-water by witnessing the evil
influence of it upon his father, and the misery it introduced into
their otherwise happy family.
He literally died of a broken heart. There were some among the chiefs
who were in favor of the treaty, and one day in the council house,
strife arose to such a height, and discussion became so warm, that
tomahawks were unsheathed, and there was danger of something more
terrible than a war of words. I have seen the one which gleamed in Big
Kettle’s hand on that occasion, but it was allowed to do no harm, and
it was this that grieved the patriotic old man more than any thing
else, to see Iroquois at enmity with one another. It was not so in the
days of old. Oh, how changed! The Indians were once all brethren; but
now they were divided. To see them wasted was not so sad as to see them
broken and degenerate. He mourned and would not be comforted, and like
Logan went away into the forest, and shut himself in a lonely cabin to
die.
The missionary learned his retreat and visited him, trying to speak
comfort to his spirit, but in vain. He tried also to lead him to the
Christian’s God, and explain to him the Christian’s faith. But this too
was vain. He said the Great Spirit had not seen fit to give the Indian
the good book which white people talked about, and he would not
therefore punish him for not knowing what it contained. “Big Kettle,”
said he, “has never done wrong to his fellow man. Big Kettle has never
taken what belonged to another—has never told a lie. The Great Spirit
knows Big Kettle loves him, and he will take him to the good place when
he dies.” So, firm in his trust in the Indian’s God, he departed in the
year 1839, without a single fear of death, or unwillingness to go, and
to the Great Spirit we will leave him. “He alone is judge.”
Speech of Gayashuta, addressed to the Society of Friends.
“Brothers:—The sons of my beloved brother Onas. [9] When I was young
and strong, our country was full of game which the Good Spirit sent for
us to live upon; the lands which belonged to us were extended far
beyond where we hunted; I and the people of my nation, had enough to
eat, and always something to give our friends, when they entered our
cabins, and we rejoiced when they received it from us; hunting was then
not tiresome—it was a diversion—it was a pleasure.
“Brothers:—When your fathers asked land of my nation, we gave it to
them, for we had more than enough. Gayashuta was among the first of the
people to say, ‘give land to our brother Onas, for he wants it, and he
has always been a friend to Onas and his children.’
“Brothers:—Your fathers saw Gayashuta when he was young; when he had
not even thought of old age or weakness; but you are too far off to see
him now he has grown old. He is very old and feeble, and he wonders at
his own shadow—it becomes so little.
“He has no children to take care of him, and the game is driven away by
the white people, so that the young men must hunt all day to find game
for themselves to eat; they have left nothing for Gayashuta. And it is
not Gayashuta only, who is becoming old and feeble—there yet remains
about thirty of your old friends, who, unable to provide for
themselves, or to help one another, have become poor, and are hungry
and naked.
“Brothers!—Gayashuta sends you a belt, which he received long ago from
your fathers, and a writing which he received but as yesterday from one
of you. By these you will remember him, and the old friends of your
fathers in this nation; look on this belt and this writing, and, if you
remember the old friends of your fathers, consider their former
friendship and their present distress; and, if the Good Spirit shall
put it into your hearts to comfort them in their old age, do not
disregard his counsel. We are men; and therefore need only tell you
that we are old, and feeble, and hungry, and naked; and that we have no
other friends but you,—the children of our beloved brother Onas.”
There have been attempts to prove that the Friends, as well as others,
were guilty of injustice, fraud, and deception towards the Indians, but
I can nowhere find these charges substantiated; and it is sufficiently
convincing to any unprejudiced mind, that the universal impression
among the red men would not be that the Friends were different from
other white people, if they had not seen it demonstrated. Whether at
the North or the South, the East or the West, the impression of the
Indian concerning the pale-faces is the same. The Pequod and the
Cherokee, the Seminole and the Dacotah, experience the same treatment,
and utter the same sentiment.
The speech of Black Hawk, when, after a long and desperate conflict, he
was taken and imprisoned, is the lamentation of all.
“The Sun rose dim on us in the morning, and at night sank in a dark
cloud, and looked like a ball of fire. That was the last sun that shone
on Black Hawk. His heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his
bosom. He is now prisoner to the white man; they will do with him as
they wish. But he can stand torture, and is not afraid of death. He is
no coward. Black Hawk is an Indian. He has done nothing for which an
Indian ought to be ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen, the
squaws, and pappooses, against white men, who came year after year to
cheat them, and take away their lands. You know the cause of their
making war. It is known to all white men. They ought to be ashamed of
it. The white men despise the Indians, and drive them from their homes.
But the Indians are not deceitful. The white men speak bad of the
Indian, and look at him spitefully. But the Indians do not tell lies;
Indians do not steal.
“An Indian who is as bad as a white man could not live in our nation;
he would be put to death, and eaten up by wolves. The white men are bad
schoolmasters; they carry false looks, and deal in false actions; they
smile in the face of the poor Indian, to cheat him; they shake him by
the hand, to gain his confidence, to make him drunk, and ruin his wife.
We told them to let us alone, and keep away from us; but they followed
on, and beset our paths, and they coiled themselves among us like the
snake. They poisoned us by their touch. We are not safe, we lived in
danger. We were becoming like them—hypocrites and liars, adulterers,
and lazy drones.
“There were no deer in the forest; the opossum and the beaver were
fled; the springs were drying up, and our squaws and pappooses without
food. The Spirit of our Fathers awoke, and spoke to us to avenge our
wrongs or die. We all spoke before the council fire. It was warm and
pleasant; we set up the warwhoop, and dug up the tomahawk; our knives
were ready, and the heart of Black Hawk swelled high in his bosom when
he led his warriors to battle. He is satisfied. He will go to the world
of spirits contented.
“Black Hawk is a true Indian. He feels for his wife, his children, and
friends. But he does not care for himself. He cares for the nation and
the Indians. They will suffer. He laments their fate. The white men do
not scalp the head; but they do worse,—they poison the heart; it is not
pure with them. His countrymen will not be scalped; but they will in a
few years become like white men, so that you cannot trust them; and
there must be, as in the white settlements, nearly as many officers as
men, to take care of them, and keep them in order.
“Farewell my nation! Black Hawk tried to save you, and avenge your
wrongs. He has been taken prisoner, and can do no more. His sun is
setting, and will rise no more. Farewell to Black Hawk!”
I have not any where made extracts from the bloody records of war, or
related instances of Indian barbarity; but if I had, they would have
formed a pleasing picture for the mind to dwell upon, compared with the
history of the controversy which was waged between a simple, trustful
band of Indians, and the thieves and robbers who invaded them with
weapons more deadly than tomahawks and scalping-knives—weapons which
they could not see, and therefore could not repel. I have given but a
glimpse of the long struggle; but I will not dwell upon it longer, for,
as far as the Iroquois are concerned, it is ended, we trust, though
there is still an effort, and, perhaps, a hope, to weary out the
Indians, and thus gain their possessions. But it is futile; they will
not part with them but with their blood.
As far as most of them are concerned, those days of clouds and thick
darkness have passed away, and with them should vanish the prejudice
and mutual distrust to which they gave rise.
Now, the Indians on all these lands are tillers of the soil, and you
may ride miles in every direction, and see their fruitful fields and
comfortable dwellings, indicating an industrious and an eminently
peaceful and happy people. And if you come into this little church, you
will see that they are also a Christian people. At first you might
smile at the peculiarities in the dress of the women, for they persist,
and very properly, I think, in not adopting the dress which we call
civilized, but which better deserves the name of barbarous. No screws
or lacings mar their forms, and their outer dress is still short and
very loose. The elder women sit with uncovered heads, their long black
hair tied in braids with gay ribbons down their necks. The younger
women have quite universally adopted the gypsy hat with gay streamers,
and all wear shawls, generally very tasteful and handsome. This
costume, with the rich brown tint of their soft skins, gives them a
picturesque and pleasing appearance.
They have large portions of the Bible, a hymn-book, and several
school-books in their native tongue, and rich music it is when they all
stand up and sing “with the spirit and the understanding,” good
old-fashioned tunes in their own rich and peculiarly expressive
language. There are aged men and manly youths, matrons, maidens, and
tiny babies; and all, not excepting the little ones, are very
respectful and serious in their deportment.
The sermon to-day is by one of their own people, a chief, and though it
is Greek to me, as far as edification is concerned, I listen more
attentively than I do sometimes to what I can understand, for there is
something very fascinating in the language and in the speaker. He is
not a minister, but occupies the pulpit to-day, because both the
missionaries are absent to attend an annual meeting at a distant place;
but he is superintendent of the Sabbath-school, and though he comes six
miles, has been absent but twice I believe in three years. Many who are
present have been in the habit of walking eight or nine miles, men,
women, and children, and are as sure to be present as the Sabbath bell
is to ring.
Here the Indian is the Indian still, and among the youths and maidens
of the present generation, there are some noble specimens of this still
noble race; and the intermingling of Saxon blood, wherever it has taken
place, has caused no deterioration.
As my book is written with the hope of disseminating the truth, and
thus removing prejudice, I will give an instance of the prejudice which
exists, and doubt not the same incident would have occurred in any city
where the trial had been made.
The first Sabbath I attended church, I noticed by my side a
fine-looking woman, with the richest tint of clear Mingoe blood upon
her cheeks, and her raven hair in soft flowing masses, curving upon her
temples, and twined in classic braids behind. Tall and portly in
figure, and dignified in deportment, she particularly attracted my
attention, and the sweet and intelligent expression of her face told
that she was no common woman.
I asked who she was; and learned that she was the step-daughter of
their most distinguished chief, Red Jacket, and one of whom he was
particularly fond. She was a child when he was an old man, and sat on
his knee, and stroked his withered cheek and kissed his brow, and
received his most affectionate caresses. Her mother was the second wife
of the great orator, and the faithful friend of the missionaries, and a
consistent member of the little mission church during all the latter
years of her life. The daughter, therefore, has had a Christian
education, and is a thoroughly sensible and very interesting woman. But
while I listened to this answer and made these remarks, I also listened
to a story which made me blush for my people.
A few years ago, when the American Board held their annual meeting in
an eastern city, the wife of the missionary, Mrs. Wright, was requested
to bring one of the Indian women who could speak English, and was also
familiar with her native language, that many more might be interested
in their labors by witnessing the fruits. This was the woman she
selected to accompany her. There was of course a great crowd of people,
and hotels and boarding-houses were more than full. The one where they
took up their abode, had the table surrounded with what are termed, in
fashionable parlance, genteel people, and here the missionaries and the
chieftain’s daughter of a proud race took their place, as worthy to
occupy the same position and receive the same politeness. What was
their surprise, to see upon the countenances of those who sat opposite
them, indignation and conscious insult, that a lady of a different
people, and with a darker hue, should be permitted to dine with them as
an equal! No notice was taken of their contemptuous looks and gestures,
but what was the surprise of the offending party to find at the next
meal that the table was vacated—they were left alone. The hostess then
explained the cause of offence, and requested that the squaw might take
her place at the second table, as they should lose their boarders if
she did not. The missionaries answered, that if she sat at the second
table they must also; and to this proposition she, without blushing,
acceded; and during the remainder of the time, the vulgar gentility of
the establishment were not troubled by the presence of two dignified,
lady-like, Christian women, as far above their comprehension as the
heavens are above the earth. They ate and drank without danger of
contamination! It is one of the peculiarities of the Indians never to
betray emotion unseasonably, and though it was evident that Mrs. L.
understood the designed humiliation, she never by word or look made it
manifest. It is also characteristic of them, that when introduced into
society, where the customs are different from theirs and entirely new,
they manifest no embarrassment or ignorance, but conform with wonderful
tact; and while seeming to be indifferent, really observe minutely, and
afterward relate every thing that passes.
How the disgraceful and utterly uncivilized conduct of these few who
represent a large portion of what is called civilized society, was
portrayed by this injured woman to her own people, I know not. I only
know that she bore the insult with Christian meekness. She is the woman
of whose girlhood I have spoken in the life of Red Jacket, and had he
lived his fondest wishes concerning her would have been realized. She
grew up to be a woman of whom he might well have been proud. Her
husband is the grandson of a British officer, who loved an Indian
maiden, and took her to be his wife. When his term of service expired
he returned to England, but not without using every persuasion to
induce his dusky bride to accompany him. She would not consent to go,
fearing she might not be recognized as wife when so far away, and
claimed the right, which was most reluctantly granted, of retaining
their little son. For many years his father annually remembered him,
and sent gold and magnificent presents to testify his love, but at
length they ceased, and nothing more was ever heard concerning him. As
there were no surnames among the Indians, the child was not called by
his father’s name, and it soon became lost to all who ever knew him
this side the water. If my Indian friends have any cousins among the
lords or nobles of England, they might not care to have me supply the
links which would bring them to the knowledge of each other; but I can
assure them that the blood of the daughter of an Iroquois Chief has not
degraded that of any Peer of the Realm.