The missionary demands notice as he, above all others, has left his
impress on the life and character of the Indian.
The Ven. Archdeacon Nelles may be regarded as the pioneer missionary to
the Indian. His work covers half a century, and, though, for some years,
he has not been an active worker amongst the Indians, a solicitude for
their welfare still actuates him. His province has been rather that of
general superintendence of the New England Company's servants, than one
involving much active mingling with the Indians. The association of his
name with that time-honoured and revered structure, the old Mohawk Church,
is his, grandest testimonial to his fruitful labour on the Reserve.
The Rev. Adam Eliot, whose widow still lives in the old missionary home,
was a man of a singularly gentle and lovable disposition. In his contact
with the Indian, the influence, if haply any could be exerted, was certain
to be on the side of the good. He was one who moved about the Reserve
with the savor of a quiet and godly life ever cleaving to him, a life,
radiating forth, as it were, to circle and embrace others in the folds
of its benign influence. He was tender, and unaffected in his piety. His
life and work have left their abiding mark on the Indian character.
The Rev. R. J. Roberts was the first missionary who was really a
constant resident on the Reserve, and this circumstance, no doubt,
assured in larger measure his usefulness. I believe him to have been
filled strongly with the missionary spirit, and with ardent zeal for the
furthering of his Master's cause. His poor health always handicapped him,
but I feel confident he leaves behind him, in the kind memories of many
of his charges, a monument of his work not to be despised.
The Rev. James Chance was one of the old English type of clergyman,
cheery, genial, and whole-souled. Had he planned nothing higher than the
infusing of some of his own geniality into the Indian nature; and, had his
missionary work effected nothing greater than this, his would have been
no unworthy part. As the spiritual husbandman, he strove so to break up
the fallow ground, that the harvest of souls might be the more bountiful.
I have not referred to the later or present occupants of the mission-field
amongst the Indians, as they were, or have been identified for so short a
time with them. I would also say, that it is from no denial to them of the
achieving of solid, lasting work, that I have not alluded to missionaries
outside of the Episcopal body. I have merely made such allusions here
as personal contact with the missionaries has enabled me to record.
It may be thought that any work which contemplates the chronicling of
the Indian's history, will be incomplete, which should fail to trace the
career of Thayandanagea, or Chief Joseph Brant; or which should, at least,
withhold reference to that mighty chieftain. Lest my making no mention
of Brant here might be taken as denying to him the possession of those
sublime qualities, which have formed the theme for so much of laudatory
writing, I make a passing allusion to his life, passing, because his acts
and career have engaged the ability and eloquence of so many writers of
repute for their due commemoration, that I cannot hope to say anything
that should cause further honour or glory to attach to his name.
Brant, above all others of his race, deserves an abiding place in the
memories of his countrymen, and he is entitled to be held in enduring
remembrance by us also.
In the war waged by Britain against the United States in 1812-15, he
allied himself, it is well known, with the British. He bridled license and
excess among his people, and strove to add lustre to the British arms,
by dissuading them from giving rein to any of those practices, nay, by
putting his stern interdict on all those practices, into which Indian
tribes are so prone to be betrayed, and to which they are frequently
incited by merciless chiefs. He posed, indeed, during the war as the
apostle of clemency, not as the upholder of the traditional cruelty of
the Indian.
He always displayed conspicuous bravery, and was the exponent, in his
own person, of that intense and unflinching loyalty, which I verily
believe to be bound up with the life of every Indian.
His loyalty was untainted with the slightest suspicion of treachery,
another vile characteristic from which he redeemed the Indian nature.
The position of Brant and of Sir Walter Scott, so far as each has
left living descendant to uphold his name, is almost analogous, and
marks a rather interesting coincidence. The male line in both families
is extinct. Sir Walter's blood runs now only in the daughter of his
grand-daughter: two daughters alone of a grand-daughter are living,
who own the blood of Brant.
Brant is buried in the graveyard of the old Mohawk Church, a building
instinct with memories of the departed might and prowess of the Indian.