[Contents]CHAPTER X.DIGNITY OF CHARACTER AMONG THE IROQUOIS, ILLUSTRATED BY THE LIFE OF FARMER’S BROTHER AND YOUNG KING.Red Jacket has been most conspicuous among the Chiefs of the Seneca Nation, because he excelled in those qualities which his enemies were willing to allow were great. He was not a warrior but an orator, and however marvellous his speeches and cutting his sarcasms, it did them no great harm in those points where their interest was most concerned. What he said was true, and pierced like a sword, but it fell powerless so far as preventing the wrongs of which he complained, or preserving his people from the doom which avarice had marked out. So even those who felt most keenly hishome thrusts, were willing to applaud and crown him with honor.But the warrior was more dangerous, and courage, and fortitude, and skill, in an Indian, did not receive these names. His bravery was savage desperation, his fortitude sullenness, and his successful stratagems treachery. When a war of extermination was planned by white men, it was said to be in self-defence, but they could not understand that Indians might be influenced by the same motive. A wrong to one individual or clan was more essentially a wrong to the whole, among a people who were comparatively so few and scattered, than among flourishing communities.[203]The death of a few distinguished warriors or chiefs, was a loss which could not be easily supplied; when their forests were cut down and their villages were laid waste, there was nothing left but starvation for themselves and families, or else to bid for ever farewell to the hills and valleys, and rocks and streams, which were hallowed by the legends of centuries,—the birth-place and burial-place of their fathers. They appreciated every thing that was beautiful in scenery, and loved their native wilds as we love the spot where we were born. When they went forth to defend them, it was not in cold blood, but with enthusiasm—an enthusiasm kindled by the purest and loftiest sentiments which can animate the human soul. On the field of battle, they were bewildered and maddened by the pompous array and the flashing fire, and when overcome they were desperate, sullen and revengeful.Farmer’s Brother might have shone in the council, but he preferred the war-path. He had all the gifts of Red Jacket, and some which the great orator had not. He was truly noble, possessing the virtues which command respect in the world, and endear to the heart in social and domestic life. By one who knew him intimately as a companion on the war-path and in the camp, he is said to be “the most noble Indian in form and mould—in carriage and in soul, of that generation of his race.” He led the warriors of his nation in the war of 1812, during which they were remarkable for magnanimity and kindness—for listening to the dictates of humanity, where even the rules of civilized nations would have sanctioned a different course. During the revolutionary war he was a faithful ally of the British; and is said to have been in the bloody battle in which Braddock lost his life and the flower of the British army in the old French war.As almost his whole life was on the war-path, there is[204]very little to be said of him as a private man. During the wars with the Western Indians, he made several speeches which were remarkable for power and eloquence, but so early as that period it was not the custom to preserve the speeches of the Indians, and no portion of these remain. But he made one in behalf of two white men, who had been taken captive in their childhood and adopted by the Indians, and to whom they wished to give a tract of land, to be theirs and their children’s for ever. As this donation could not be made without the consent of the State, at the convening of the General Assembly this petition was sent by the Chiefs, Sachems and warriors, and written by Farmer’s Brother. It is another proof of the consideration shown to captives by the Indians. Mr. Jones and Mr. Parish had been interpreters for the Six Nations, and always true and faithful to the Indian interests.“The Sachems, Chiefs, and warriors of the Seneca nation to the Sachems and Chiefs assembled about the great Council Fire of the State of New York:“Brothers:—As you are once more assembled in council for the purpose of doing honor to yourselves and justice to your country; we, your brothers, the Sachems, Chiefs and warriors of the Seneca nation, request you to open your ears and give attention to our voice and wishes.“Brothers:—You recollect the late contest between you and your father, the great King of England. This contest threw the inhabitants of this island into great tumult and commotion, like a raging whirlwind which tears up the trees, and tosses to and fro the leaves, so that no one knows from whence they come, or where they will fall.“Brothers:—This whirlwind was so directed by the Great Spirit above as to throw into our arms two of your[205]infant children, Jasper Parish and Horatio Jones. We adopted them into our families and made them our children. We loved them and nourished them. They lived with us many years.At length the Great Spirit spoke to the whirlwind, and it was still.A clear and uninterrupted sky appeared. The path of peace was opened, and the chain of friendship was once more made bright. Then these our adopted children left us to seek their relations. We wished them to return among us, and promised if they would return, and live in our country, to give each of them a seat of land for them and their children to sit down upon.“Brothers:—They have returned, and have for several years past been serviceable to us as interpreters. We still feel our hearts beat with affection for them, and now wish to fulfil the promise we made them, and to reward them for their services. We have therefore made up our minds to give them a seat of ten square miles of land, lying on the outlet of Lake Erie, about three miles below Black Rock, beginning at the mouth of a creek known by the name of Scoy-gu-quay-des Creek.“Brothers:—We have now made known to you our minds; we expect and earnestly request that you will permit our friends to receive this our gift, and will make the same good to them according to the laws and customs of your nation.“Brothers:—Why should you hesitate to make our minds easy with regard to this our request? To you it is but a little thing, and have you not complied with the request, and confirmed the gift of the Oneidas, the Onondagas and Cayugas, to their interpreters? And shall we ask and not be heard?“Brothers:—We send you this our speech, to which[206]we expect your answer before the breaking up of your great council fire.”Mr. Jones, who is alluded to, was taken captive at the age of sixteen, on the banks of the “Blue Juniata,” and conveyed to the Genesee Valley, where he was adopted into an Indian family, and remained five years, when he was made interpreter for the Six Nations by General Washington.He was the favorite interpreter of Red Jacket; and having secured the perfect confidence of the Indians, had great influence over them.He married an Indian wife, and his son became one of the most respected among the Seneca chiefs; he married the step-daughter of Red Jacket, and left an interesting family of children, one of whom was presented by the dying mother to the missionaries, who adopted it for their own. It was a little girl, whom they named Louisa Maria, and who, though she died in early childhood, lived long enough to become a bud of promise; yes, a blossom of Christian love, and hope and faith, a lamb of Christ’s flock. She belonged to the class of those who always die in infancy, “whose names are all on gravestones.” They are perfected without the discipline of earth’s trials, and transplanted, to bloom as spring flowers in the gardens above. Life would be a dreary pathway without the little ones, and the heavenly choir would not make so sweet melody without the music of their voices.Mr. Parish was born in Connecticut, and afterwards emigrated to Pennsylvania. His home was the Vale of Wyoming, and he experienced the fate of so many of its children. He was taken captive when he was eleven, and adopted with the usual ceremonies, being transferred from one nation to another, and experiencing all the vicissitudes of Indian life during seven years, when he was released.[207]He could speak five of the Indian dialects fluently, and was interpreter for the Six Nations thirty years.Farmer’s Brother, at one time on a visit to Philadelphia, was presented with a silver medal by Washington, which bore his own likeness, and of which the chief was very proud, wearing it suspended from his neck, and saying he would lose it only with his life.During the war of 1812 he was often associated with Captain Worth, who was a great favorite with the Indians. At one time he was very sick for several weeks, and the Indians lingered about his tent, expressing the greatest anxiety, ready for any service, and Farmer’s Brother was in the habit of sitting by his bedside several hours every day.On one occasion, a Chippewa Indian crossed over from Canada, and joined a little party near the quarters of Captain Worth, pretending that he had deserted. But Indians of any nation were not in the habit of deserting, so his new companions did not believe his story. Still they did not molest him, and he mingled with them freely, listening to their stories and relating his own, till one day an indiscretion betrayed him. The Americans and some of their red allies were boasting of the number of redcoats they had killed, when the Chippewa, forgetting his disguise, also boasted, but it was of the Yankees and Senecas he had slain. Ah, yes! he was a spy; and quickly was he arraigned to answer for his sin.Farmer’s Brother was by his sick friend, but hearing the noise without, he sallied forth to learn the cause. The poor Chippewa was surrounded by warriors, that he might not make his escape, and pointed out to the old chief with great contempt as an enemy in their midst. He learned the particulars, and then stepped up to the Chippewa, with a word or two, which he alone understood; and immediately[208]the culprit drew his blanket over his head, and coolly received a blow from the war-club, which sent him staggering to the ground.For a moment he was stunned and motionless, but suddenly he sprung to his feet, rushed through the circle, and fled. To shrink from pain or fear death, was an ever-living disgrace to an Indian, and he had not gone far when the taunts of the Senecas stung him more than would a thousand barbed arrows. He stopped, deliberately retraced his steps, and entered again the circle. Yes, he would die with all the heroism of an Indian warrior; and the Athenian philosopher did not more coolly swallow the poison mixed by his enemies, than the dauntless Chippewa seated himself upon the ground, and drew again his blanket over his head, to receive the death blow. Now they permitted him to be shot, and Farmer’s Brother discharged the contents of his faithful rifle in his breast.During the same war, a fugitive Mohawk, from the enemy, had endeavored to pass for a Seneca, and came among those who were led by this famous chief, who immediately recognized him.“I know you well,” said he; “you belong to the Mohawks. You are a spy. Here is my rifle, my tomahawk, my scalping knife; say which shall I use; I am in haste.”The young Mohawk knew there was no hope, and said he would die by the rifle. He was ordered to lie down upon the grass, and with one foot upon his breast, the chieftain shot him through the head.Some of my readers will be ready to exclaim, “How heartless and barbarous!” and thoroughly savage, too, perhaps; but I shall only have to refer them for a parallel, to English and American history only a few years before, when young Hale was hung in an English camp for being a spy, and the gallant Major Andre in an American camp[209]for the same reason; and no petitions or pleadings could procure for them a more honorable death. “Only permit me to be shot, and I will glory in my death,” plead the brave young man who was risking life, and honor too, in the service of his country, and whose only sin was that he dared too much for the cause he had espoused. But even Washington would not relent, and the noble youth was hung like a common felon.The simplicity of the Indian in money matters, and especially concerning the interest of sums deposited in banks, was very amusing. At one time there was ceded a tract of land including four millions of acres, for which they were to receive one hundred thousand pounds; the Indians being told that the interest of the money would be more useful than so much unproductive land, and this interest should be paid them annually. It was very difficult at first for them to comprehend the nature of a bank, and how money could be made to grow, knowing as they did that it was not placed in the earth to produce like corn. They saw that it was planted and produced a crop, but the place and the process were a great mystery. But those on whom devolved the business soon made themselves masters of the science, and knew very quick if the crop was not the full amount, though the uninitiated would sometimes ask what the prospect was in a season like that? The figure was adopted, and is still used in their language, of saying the money is planted and grows. They have planted a certain sum, and it has grown to a great amount. As few of them could count more than a hundred, it was a long time before they could reckon a hundred thousand; and their first lesson was given by filling a cask with dollars, and then another, and showing them how many casks would be required to contain the[210]whole, and how many horses would be necessary in order to draw it.It was in the making of this treaty that Red Jacket was guilty of a duplicity which left a dark stain upon his name for ever, and sowed enmity between him and the honest Farmer’s Brother and Cornplanter, which was never entirely removed.When they heard that there was trouble about the interest of the money that had been deposited in the bank, as it might fail, Farmer’s Brother wrote a letter expressing the fears and misunderstandings of the people, addressed to the Secretary of War.“Brother:—The sachems and chief warriors of the Seneca Nation of Indians, understanding you are the person appointed by the great council of your nation, to manage and conduct the affairs of the several nations of Indians with whom you are at peace and on terms of friendship, come at this time as children to a father, to lay before you the trouble which we have on our minds.“Brother:—Listen to what we say. Some years since we held a treaty at Bigtree, near the Genesee River. This treaty was called by our great father, the President of the United States. At this treaty we sold toRobert Morris, the greatest part of our country; the sum he gave us was one hundred thousand dollars. The commissioners who were appointed on your part, advised us to place this money in the hands of our great father, the President of the United States. He told us our father loved his red children, and would take care of our money, and plant it in a field where it would bear seed for ever, as long as trees grow, or waters run. Our money has heretofore been of great service to us, it has helped us to support our old people and our women and children; but[211]we are told the field where our money was planted is become barren.“Brother:—We do not understand your way of doing business. The thing is very heavy on our minds: we hope you will remove it.”On the reception of this letter the fund was transferred from the bank to the Government of the United States, which has ever since paid the Indians the interest faithfully. From the sale of other lands in the State they receive several thousand dollars, and in all about ($16,500) sixteen thousand five hundred dollars. This is divided equally among men, women, and children. The infant of two days old receives as large a sum as the greatest Chief. It would be infinitely better for them, now, if this money could be appropriated to educational purposes, or devoted to the public benefit in some other way; but there is not yet a sufficient number who appreciate the importance of educational and other improvements, to consent to a change in the distribution of their annuities. Unless they save it every year, they would think they did not have it. Yet there are many who fully understand and strongly advocate abetter way, and I doubt not ere long it will be adopted, and schools and agricultural interests be the first to receive the benefit; for these they are fast learning to value.The following extract from the journal of Mr. Savery, one of a deputation sent in 1794, by the Quakers, to learn the condition and wants of the Indians, will give a glimpse of him in his forest home.“After dinner we went to view Farmer’s Brother’s encampment, which contained about five hundred Indians. They were located by the side of a brook, in the woods; having built about seventy or eighty huts, by far the most commodiously and ingeniously made of any we have yet[212]seen. The principal materials are bark and the boughs of trees, so nicely put together as to keep the family nice and warm. The women as well as the men appeared to be mostly employed. In this camp there are a large number of pretty children, who, in all their activity and buoyancy of health, were diverting themselves according to their fancy. The vast numbers of deer they have killed, since coming here, which they cut up and hang around their huts inside and out to dry, together with the rations of beef which they had drawn daily, give the appearance of plenty to supply the few wants to which they are subjected. The ease and cheerfulness of every countenance, and the delightfulness of the afternoon, which these inhabitants of the woods seemed to enjoy with a relish far superior to those who are pent up in crowded and populous cities, all combined to make this the most pleasant visit I have yet made to the Indians; and induced me to believe that before they became acquainted with white people, and were infected with their vices, they must have been as happy a people as any in the world. In returning to our quarters we passed by the Indian Council, where Red Jacket was displaying his oratory to his brother chiefs. He afterwards made us a visit with his wife and five children, whom he had brought to see us. They were exceedingly well clad, agreeable in their manners, and the best behaved and prettiest Indian children I had ever met with.”In closing the report he says, that during a sojourn of seven weeks among the Indians, they had frequent opportunity of observing the melancholy and demoralizing effects resulting from the supply of ardent spirits furnished them by white people; and the difficulties and hardships to which these poor people, once a free and independent nation, are now subjected, appeared to them[213]loudly to claim the sympathy of friends and others, who have grown opulent upon the land which was their former inheritance.Farmer’s Brother never yielded to the temptation of the fire-water. He lived and died a sober man. “He was a noble instance of a great and magnanimous mind. No one who looked upon him could imbibe feelings of disgust or hatred; and all who knew him well, felt esteem and veneration. He was never guilty of meanness, littleness, or intrigue; but was ever open, dignified, and fearless. He was a fine specimen of the Indian form, and trod the earth like a king, with the impress of integrity and honor upon his face as it was thoroughly stamped upon his character.”“ ‘He was one of nature’s noblemen,——the front of Jove himself,An eye like Mars to threaten and command:A station like the herald Mercury.’ ”“None who saw him will fail to recollect his majestic mien and princely bearing, much less will they who have heard him in council, forget the power and deep-toned melody of his voice—his natural and impressive gestures, and the unaffected and commanding dignity of his manner. Unrivalled as a warrior, and only equalled by Red Jacket in eloquence, speaking in the verity of sober prose, it may be said that his was“ ‘A combination and a form indeed,To give the world assurance of a man.’ ”“His influence with his nation was very great; and his true glory, his open-heartedness, his fidelity to truth, and his generous magnanimity, secured for him the admiration and respect of every white person who had the[214]honor of his acquaintance. He was a firm friend where he promised fidelity, and a bitter enemy to those against whom he contended; and would lose the last drop of blood in his veins sooner than betray the cause he had espoused. He lived to be ninety years of age, dying in 1814, and continued a Pagan to the day of his death, as thoroughly opposed to Christianity and all the inroads of civilization as Red Jacket himself.”[Contents]YOUNG-KING.The Indian names fall strangely, and sometimes harshly onears polite, and when belonging to persons of dignity, convey to us any thing but an idea of the true qualities of those who bore them. YetBig-Kettlewas a truly great and noble man; and every time I find myself in company with Indians, I am introduced to those whose names bring a smile to my lips in spite of all my attempts at gravity; like Mr. Silver-heels, Mr. Sun-down, and Mr. Tall-Chief. Young-King was a chief of the Seneca Nation, and one of whom the people were very proud on account of his bravery in war, his wisdom in council, and his mild, pacific character in social life. He was born at Canandaigua, which signifies in their language “The Chosen City,” and indicates far more to them than it does to us of beauty in scenery and location, and was to the Indian one of his most loved spots, among all the smiling valleys and fruitful fields which dotted their favorite hunting-grounds, on the borders of the lakes and rivers which stretch from the Hudson to Niagara, and from the St. Lawrence to the Ohio. Oh! the cruel desolation which swept them away!Young-King was one of those who fled before the American army under General Sullivan, who was sent to destroy their settlements in 1777. But he was only a[215]boy, being, as he thought, ten or twelve years of age—as his mother gave him a frying-pan to carry on their flying route to Canada, where they went to seek the protection of the British, in whose service their warriors had fought,“And in their cause bled nobly.”He was the son of “Old Smoke,” one of the most distinguished sachems of the Six Nations, and though not equal to his father, was the keeper of the council-fire, and ever won the respect of enemies and the love of friends.As I read over volumes of history in order to glean the truth from the great mass of details, I cannot help being struck with the different manner in which massacre and bloodshed are represented when Indians are spoken of, and when the same things are recorded of white men. The villages of Wyoming and Cherry Valley were devastated and destroyed by British and Indians, and the shocking story is repeated and dwelt upon as unparalleled in atrocity. The Indian is called a barbarian and bloodthirsty assassin—the personification of cruelty and revenge. But when it is recorded of the American army that “they were sent in every direction to overrun and lay waste Indian settlements, cut down their orchards, destroy their provisions and crops, kill their cattle and horses, and apply the besom of destruction to every thing that could give shelter or sustenance to man or beast;” and it is added, that “they meted out the full measure of destruction and desolation upon every settlement that came in their way, and actually destroyed forty Indian villages, one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn, vast quantities of beans and other vegetables, a great number of horses, and all farming utensils, and indeed[216]every thing that was the result of labor or the produce of cultivation; all this being the unmolested and unremitting employment of five thousand men for three weeks;” and to close their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the ancient metropolis of the Seneca Nation, which contained one hundred and twenty-eight houses—many being killed and many taken prisoners, and all obliged to flee—men, women, and children—through the wilderness, strewing the way with the dead and dying—it is called “gallant,” a “brilliant achievement,” a “glorious exploit!” That Indian mothers see their children murdered before their eyes, or starving, or wasting from sickness, is nothing to excite pity or call forth compassion. That the horses, and cows, and sheep of Indians are burnt, and all their pleasant fields laid waste, is matter of rejoicing. Their homes were far more dear to them than were the homes of those who had occupied them but for a few years; for they were living with the legends and sweet associations of centuries. They were deprived of their birthright. I have listened with horror as I have heard old men relate the tales of hunger, and sickness, and misery to which thousands were reduced by an act which gained for the victors immortal honors and not a single censure.The Indians were the allies of the English, and faithful to their plighted word. They fought according to their rules of warfare, and fought for their homes and their firesides, their wives and their children, and fought in vain. Theirs, too, were happy homes, where love and domestic virtue dwelt; and their freedom from envyings and jealousies, and strife and malice, might put many Christian homes to shame. Instead of wondering that they hated white people, I only wonder that the wounds they received should ever have healed—that they do not[217]rankle for ever, and produce utter detestation and unconquerable enmity to every thing with a pale skin.This has been the case with many, and made it almost impossible for the missionaries to convince them that a religion taught by such a people, could have in it any good thing. And only by living among them, andexemplifyingits principles by long and intimate intercourse, could induce them to listen to the Gospel messages.Young-King was one of the first among the Seneca chiefs to see the good influence of education and the Christian religion upon his people; and his influence was very great, standing as he did so high as a warrior and chief.Like too many, too, he partook of thefire-water, and for many years was a victim of the lowest intemperance. In a drunken brawl he lost an arm, and a finger from the remaining hand; but after he became a Christian, not a drop ever wet his lips. At one time, on a journey, he was thrown from his carriage, and badly injured. When the physician came, he was groaning upon the floor in a neighboring hut; but the whiskey-bottle stood upon the table, and was an irresistible temptation; he must drink before he could attend his patient. When Young-King observed it, he asked “What you drink?” The doctor answered, “Whiskey, and it will do you good; come, take a glass!” “No,” said the chief, “and you no bleed me, you no bleed me!” and though in the most intense suffering, he would not allow any thing to be done for him by a man who drank whiskey.He was the first man who built a rod of fence on the Buffalo Reservation, where the missionaries first resided; and often, in the cold winter days, would be seen on Saturday, crossing the creek in his little canoe, to see if the church were supplied with fuel for the Sabbath; and if it[218]were not, with his one hand wielded the axe, and chopped the little pile, which he also carried to the door, to be sure that it was ready for the morning service, saying, he came so late into the vineyard, he must work diligently in order to accomplish any thing before he was called away. He enjoyed very little direct instruction, and could not read; yet he seemed to understand clearly the history of redemption, and the nature of the atonement, as well as the intricate workings of the human heart.His manners were very refined and gentlemanly; and his deportment, at all times, that of one who had been well-bred and accustomed to cultivated circles; and the old-fashioned hospitality which characterizes his people, was kept up at his fireside; the poor were welcome, the hungry were fed, and the friendless made to feel that there was still in store for them sympathy and the kindness of cordial friendship.He early lost the wife of his youth, but in the wife of his old age he had a genuine helpmate, who participated in his desire to do good among his people, encouraged his hospitality, and set an example of prudence and dignity at the head of her household.They united with the little mission church on the same day, and reminded one of disciples at the feet of Jesus, when they listened to the words of the preacher, so childlike were their manners, and so trusting the expression of their countenances as they drank at the fountain of knowledge.The punishment of children in the schools often caused much trouble among parents, and Young-King proposed that there should be a committee appointed among the chiefs to visit the schools regularly, and encourage the teachers, by talking to the children of the necessity of obedience and order, and the importance of education;[219]proving in all times of trouble an able and faithful counsellor, and a support in every good cause.Wicked white men often tempted him, in order to overcome his temperance resolutions and lead him into sin; but he was always firm, and brought no dishonor, in any way, upon the cause which he had espoused.During the last war, he was on the side of the United States, and the remainder of his life received a pension of two hundred dollars a year, as compensation for his bravery, and a wound which he received in performance of his meritorious services.He died in 1835, and lies in the Mission Burial-Ground, about four miles from Buffalo, where are also most of the distinguished men and women of the nation who have died in the last half century. It is a consecrated spot indeed to the Indian and to the mission, for there are the lost and loved ones of their own little families, and the first fruits of their labors among a pagan people, who received Christian burial. It was once a fort, and the soldiers’ graveyard; and warriors of many nations, and Christian pilgrims, and little children, whom Jesus took in his arms and blessed, now mingle their dust beneath the same green mounds; and some of them will awake at the sound of the last trump on the resurrection morn, and enter together the New Jerusalem.[220]
[Contents]CHAPTER X.DIGNITY OF CHARACTER AMONG THE IROQUOIS, ILLUSTRATED BY THE LIFE OF FARMER’S BROTHER AND YOUNG KING.Red Jacket has been most conspicuous among the Chiefs of the Seneca Nation, because he excelled in those qualities which his enemies were willing to allow were great. He was not a warrior but an orator, and however marvellous his speeches and cutting his sarcasms, it did them no great harm in those points where their interest was most concerned. What he said was true, and pierced like a sword, but it fell powerless so far as preventing the wrongs of which he complained, or preserving his people from the doom which avarice had marked out. So even those who felt most keenly hishome thrusts, were willing to applaud and crown him with honor.But the warrior was more dangerous, and courage, and fortitude, and skill, in an Indian, did not receive these names. His bravery was savage desperation, his fortitude sullenness, and his successful stratagems treachery. When a war of extermination was planned by white men, it was said to be in self-defence, but they could not understand that Indians might be influenced by the same motive. A wrong to one individual or clan was more essentially a wrong to the whole, among a people who were comparatively so few and scattered, than among flourishing communities.[203]The death of a few distinguished warriors or chiefs, was a loss which could not be easily supplied; when their forests were cut down and their villages were laid waste, there was nothing left but starvation for themselves and families, or else to bid for ever farewell to the hills and valleys, and rocks and streams, which were hallowed by the legends of centuries,—the birth-place and burial-place of their fathers. They appreciated every thing that was beautiful in scenery, and loved their native wilds as we love the spot where we were born. When they went forth to defend them, it was not in cold blood, but with enthusiasm—an enthusiasm kindled by the purest and loftiest sentiments which can animate the human soul. On the field of battle, they were bewildered and maddened by the pompous array and the flashing fire, and when overcome they were desperate, sullen and revengeful.Farmer’s Brother might have shone in the council, but he preferred the war-path. He had all the gifts of Red Jacket, and some which the great orator had not. He was truly noble, possessing the virtues which command respect in the world, and endear to the heart in social and domestic life. By one who knew him intimately as a companion on the war-path and in the camp, he is said to be “the most noble Indian in form and mould—in carriage and in soul, of that generation of his race.” He led the warriors of his nation in the war of 1812, during which they were remarkable for magnanimity and kindness—for listening to the dictates of humanity, where even the rules of civilized nations would have sanctioned a different course. During the revolutionary war he was a faithful ally of the British; and is said to have been in the bloody battle in which Braddock lost his life and the flower of the British army in the old French war.As almost his whole life was on the war-path, there is[204]very little to be said of him as a private man. During the wars with the Western Indians, he made several speeches which were remarkable for power and eloquence, but so early as that period it was not the custom to preserve the speeches of the Indians, and no portion of these remain. But he made one in behalf of two white men, who had been taken captive in their childhood and adopted by the Indians, and to whom they wished to give a tract of land, to be theirs and their children’s for ever. As this donation could not be made without the consent of the State, at the convening of the General Assembly this petition was sent by the Chiefs, Sachems and warriors, and written by Farmer’s Brother. It is another proof of the consideration shown to captives by the Indians. Mr. Jones and Mr. Parish had been interpreters for the Six Nations, and always true and faithful to the Indian interests.“The Sachems, Chiefs, and warriors of the Seneca nation to the Sachems and Chiefs assembled about the great Council Fire of the State of New York:“Brothers:—As you are once more assembled in council for the purpose of doing honor to yourselves and justice to your country; we, your brothers, the Sachems, Chiefs and warriors of the Seneca nation, request you to open your ears and give attention to our voice and wishes.“Brothers:—You recollect the late contest between you and your father, the great King of England. This contest threw the inhabitants of this island into great tumult and commotion, like a raging whirlwind which tears up the trees, and tosses to and fro the leaves, so that no one knows from whence they come, or where they will fall.“Brothers:—This whirlwind was so directed by the Great Spirit above as to throw into our arms two of your[205]infant children, Jasper Parish and Horatio Jones. We adopted them into our families and made them our children. We loved them and nourished them. They lived with us many years.At length the Great Spirit spoke to the whirlwind, and it was still.A clear and uninterrupted sky appeared. The path of peace was opened, and the chain of friendship was once more made bright. Then these our adopted children left us to seek their relations. We wished them to return among us, and promised if they would return, and live in our country, to give each of them a seat of land for them and their children to sit down upon.“Brothers:—They have returned, and have for several years past been serviceable to us as interpreters. We still feel our hearts beat with affection for them, and now wish to fulfil the promise we made them, and to reward them for their services. We have therefore made up our minds to give them a seat of ten square miles of land, lying on the outlet of Lake Erie, about three miles below Black Rock, beginning at the mouth of a creek known by the name of Scoy-gu-quay-des Creek.“Brothers:—We have now made known to you our minds; we expect and earnestly request that you will permit our friends to receive this our gift, and will make the same good to them according to the laws and customs of your nation.“Brothers:—Why should you hesitate to make our minds easy with regard to this our request? To you it is but a little thing, and have you not complied with the request, and confirmed the gift of the Oneidas, the Onondagas and Cayugas, to their interpreters? And shall we ask and not be heard?“Brothers:—We send you this our speech, to which[206]we expect your answer before the breaking up of your great council fire.”Mr. Jones, who is alluded to, was taken captive at the age of sixteen, on the banks of the “Blue Juniata,” and conveyed to the Genesee Valley, where he was adopted into an Indian family, and remained five years, when he was made interpreter for the Six Nations by General Washington.He was the favorite interpreter of Red Jacket; and having secured the perfect confidence of the Indians, had great influence over them.He married an Indian wife, and his son became one of the most respected among the Seneca chiefs; he married the step-daughter of Red Jacket, and left an interesting family of children, one of whom was presented by the dying mother to the missionaries, who adopted it for their own. It was a little girl, whom they named Louisa Maria, and who, though she died in early childhood, lived long enough to become a bud of promise; yes, a blossom of Christian love, and hope and faith, a lamb of Christ’s flock. She belonged to the class of those who always die in infancy, “whose names are all on gravestones.” They are perfected without the discipline of earth’s trials, and transplanted, to bloom as spring flowers in the gardens above. Life would be a dreary pathway without the little ones, and the heavenly choir would not make so sweet melody without the music of their voices.Mr. Parish was born in Connecticut, and afterwards emigrated to Pennsylvania. His home was the Vale of Wyoming, and he experienced the fate of so many of its children. He was taken captive when he was eleven, and adopted with the usual ceremonies, being transferred from one nation to another, and experiencing all the vicissitudes of Indian life during seven years, when he was released.[207]He could speak five of the Indian dialects fluently, and was interpreter for the Six Nations thirty years.Farmer’s Brother, at one time on a visit to Philadelphia, was presented with a silver medal by Washington, which bore his own likeness, and of which the chief was very proud, wearing it suspended from his neck, and saying he would lose it only with his life.During the war of 1812 he was often associated with Captain Worth, who was a great favorite with the Indians. At one time he was very sick for several weeks, and the Indians lingered about his tent, expressing the greatest anxiety, ready for any service, and Farmer’s Brother was in the habit of sitting by his bedside several hours every day.On one occasion, a Chippewa Indian crossed over from Canada, and joined a little party near the quarters of Captain Worth, pretending that he had deserted. But Indians of any nation were not in the habit of deserting, so his new companions did not believe his story. Still they did not molest him, and he mingled with them freely, listening to their stories and relating his own, till one day an indiscretion betrayed him. The Americans and some of their red allies were boasting of the number of redcoats they had killed, when the Chippewa, forgetting his disguise, also boasted, but it was of the Yankees and Senecas he had slain. Ah, yes! he was a spy; and quickly was he arraigned to answer for his sin.Farmer’s Brother was by his sick friend, but hearing the noise without, he sallied forth to learn the cause. The poor Chippewa was surrounded by warriors, that he might not make his escape, and pointed out to the old chief with great contempt as an enemy in their midst. He learned the particulars, and then stepped up to the Chippewa, with a word or two, which he alone understood; and immediately[208]the culprit drew his blanket over his head, and coolly received a blow from the war-club, which sent him staggering to the ground.For a moment he was stunned and motionless, but suddenly he sprung to his feet, rushed through the circle, and fled. To shrink from pain or fear death, was an ever-living disgrace to an Indian, and he had not gone far when the taunts of the Senecas stung him more than would a thousand barbed arrows. He stopped, deliberately retraced his steps, and entered again the circle. Yes, he would die with all the heroism of an Indian warrior; and the Athenian philosopher did not more coolly swallow the poison mixed by his enemies, than the dauntless Chippewa seated himself upon the ground, and drew again his blanket over his head, to receive the death blow. Now they permitted him to be shot, and Farmer’s Brother discharged the contents of his faithful rifle in his breast.During the same war, a fugitive Mohawk, from the enemy, had endeavored to pass for a Seneca, and came among those who were led by this famous chief, who immediately recognized him.“I know you well,” said he; “you belong to the Mohawks. You are a spy. Here is my rifle, my tomahawk, my scalping knife; say which shall I use; I am in haste.”The young Mohawk knew there was no hope, and said he would die by the rifle. He was ordered to lie down upon the grass, and with one foot upon his breast, the chieftain shot him through the head.Some of my readers will be ready to exclaim, “How heartless and barbarous!” and thoroughly savage, too, perhaps; but I shall only have to refer them for a parallel, to English and American history only a few years before, when young Hale was hung in an English camp for being a spy, and the gallant Major Andre in an American camp[209]for the same reason; and no petitions or pleadings could procure for them a more honorable death. “Only permit me to be shot, and I will glory in my death,” plead the brave young man who was risking life, and honor too, in the service of his country, and whose only sin was that he dared too much for the cause he had espoused. But even Washington would not relent, and the noble youth was hung like a common felon.The simplicity of the Indian in money matters, and especially concerning the interest of sums deposited in banks, was very amusing. At one time there was ceded a tract of land including four millions of acres, for which they were to receive one hundred thousand pounds; the Indians being told that the interest of the money would be more useful than so much unproductive land, and this interest should be paid them annually. It was very difficult at first for them to comprehend the nature of a bank, and how money could be made to grow, knowing as they did that it was not placed in the earth to produce like corn. They saw that it was planted and produced a crop, but the place and the process were a great mystery. But those on whom devolved the business soon made themselves masters of the science, and knew very quick if the crop was not the full amount, though the uninitiated would sometimes ask what the prospect was in a season like that? The figure was adopted, and is still used in their language, of saying the money is planted and grows. They have planted a certain sum, and it has grown to a great amount. As few of them could count more than a hundred, it was a long time before they could reckon a hundred thousand; and their first lesson was given by filling a cask with dollars, and then another, and showing them how many casks would be required to contain the[210]whole, and how many horses would be necessary in order to draw it.It was in the making of this treaty that Red Jacket was guilty of a duplicity which left a dark stain upon his name for ever, and sowed enmity between him and the honest Farmer’s Brother and Cornplanter, which was never entirely removed.When they heard that there was trouble about the interest of the money that had been deposited in the bank, as it might fail, Farmer’s Brother wrote a letter expressing the fears and misunderstandings of the people, addressed to the Secretary of War.“Brother:—The sachems and chief warriors of the Seneca Nation of Indians, understanding you are the person appointed by the great council of your nation, to manage and conduct the affairs of the several nations of Indians with whom you are at peace and on terms of friendship, come at this time as children to a father, to lay before you the trouble which we have on our minds.“Brother:—Listen to what we say. Some years since we held a treaty at Bigtree, near the Genesee River. This treaty was called by our great father, the President of the United States. At this treaty we sold toRobert Morris, the greatest part of our country; the sum he gave us was one hundred thousand dollars. The commissioners who were appointed on your part, advised us to place this money in the hands of our great father, the President of the United States. He told us our father loved his red children, and would take care of our money, and plant it in a field where it would bear seed for ever, as long as trees grow, or waters run. Our money has heretofore been of great service to us, it has helped us to support our old people and our women and children; but[211]we are told the field where our money was planted is become barren.“Brother:—We do not understand your way of doing business. The thing is very heavy on our minds: we hope you will remove it.”On the reception of this letter the fund was transferred from the bank to the Government of the United States, which has ever since paid the Indians the interest faithfully. From the sale of other lands in the State they receive several thousand dollars, and in all about ($16,500) sixteen thousand five hundred dollars. This is divided equally among men, women, and children. The infant of two days old receives as large a sum as the greatest Chief. It would be infinitely better for them, now, if this money could be appropriated to educational purposes, or devoted to the public benefit in some other way; but there is not yet a sufficient number who appreciate the importance of educational and other improvements, to consent to a change in the distribution of their annuities. Unless they save it every year, they would think they did not have it. Yet there are many who fully understand and strongly advocate abetter way, and I doubt not ere long it will be adopted, and schools and agricultural interests be the first to receive the benefit; for these they are fast learning to value.The following extract from the journal of Mr. Savery, one of a deputation sent in 1794, by the Quakers, to learn the condition and wants of the Indians, will give a glimpse of him in his forest home.“After dinner we went to view Farmer’s Brother’s encampment, which contained about five hundred Indians. They were located by the side of a brook, in the woods; having built about seventy or eighty huts, by far the most commodiously and ingeniously made of any we have yet[212]seen. The principal materials are bark and the boughs of trees, so nicely put together as to keep the family nice and warm. The women as well as the men appeared to be mostly employed. In this camp there are a large number of pretty children, who, in all their activity and buoyancy of health, were diverting themselves according to their fancy. The vast numbers of deer they have killed, since coming here, which they cut up and hang around their huts inside and out to dry, together with the rations of beef which they had drawn daily, give the appearance of plenty to supply the few wants to which they are subjected. The ease and cheerfulness of every countenance, and the delightfulness of the afternoon, which these inhabitants of the woods seemed to enjoy with a relish far superior to those who are pent up in crowded and populous cities, all combined to make this the most pleasant visit I have yet made to the Indians; and induced me to believe that before they became acquainted with white people, and were infected with their vices, they must have been as happy a people as any in the world. In returning to our quarters we passed by the Indian Council, where Red Jacket was displaying his oratory to his brother chiefs. He afterwards made us a visit with his wife and five children, whom he had brought to see us. They were exceedingly well clad, agreeable in their manners, and the best behaved and prettiest Indian children I had ever met with.”In closing the report he says, that during a sojourn of seven weeks among the Indians, they had frequent opportunity of observing the melancholy and demoralizing effects resulting from the supply of ardent spirits furnished them by white people; and the difficulties and hardships to which these poor people, once a free and independent nation, are now subjected, appeared to them[213]loudly to claim the sympathy of friends and others, who have grown opulent upon the land which was their former inheritance.Farmer’s Brother never yielded to the temptation of the fire-water. He lived and died a sober man. “He was a noble instance of a great and magnanimous mind. No one who looked upon him could imbibe feelings of disgust or hatred; and all who knew him well, felt esteem and veneration. He was never guilty of meanness, littleness, or intrigue; but was ever open, dignified, and fearless. He was a fine specimen of the Indian form, and trod the earth like a king, with the impress of integrity and honor upon his face as it was thoroughly stamped upon his character.”“ ‘He was one of nature’s noblemen,——the front of Jove himself,An eye like Mars to threaten and command:A station like the herald Mercury.’ ”“None who saw him will fail to recollect his majestic mien and princely bearing, much less will they who have heard him in council, forget the power and deep-toned melody of his voice—his natural and impressive gestures, and the unaffected and commanding dignity of his manner. Unrivalled as a warrior, and only equalled by Red Jacket in eloquence, speaking in the verity of sober prose, it may be said that his was“ ‘A combination and a form indeed,To give the world assurance of a man.’ ”“His influence with his nation was very great; and his true glory, his open-heartedness, his fidelity to truth, and his generous magnanimity, secured for him the admiration and respect of every white person who had the[214]honor of his acquaintance. He was a firm friend where he promised fidelity, and a bitter enemy to those against whom he contended; and would lose the last drop of blood in his veins sooner than betray the cause he had espoused. He lived to be ninety years of age, dying in 1814, and continued a Pagan to the day of his death, as thoroughly opposed to Christianity and all the inroads of civilization as Red Jacket himself.”[Contents]YOUNG-KING.The Indian names fall strangely, and sometimes harshly onears polite, and when belonging to persons of dignity, convey to us any thing but an idea of the true qualities of those who bore them. YetBig-Kettlewas a truly great and noble man; and every time I find myself in company with Indians, I am introduced to those whose names bring a smile to my lips in spite of all my attempts at gravity; like Mr. Silver-heels, Mr. Sun-down, and Mr. Tall-Chief. Young-King was a chief of the Seneca Nation, and one of whom the people were very proud on account of his bravery in war, his wisdom in council, and his mild, pacific character in social life. He was born at Canandaigua, which signifies in their language “The Chosen City,” and indicates far more to them than it does to us of beauty in scenery and location, and was to the Indian one of his most loved spots, among all the smiling valleys and fruitful fields which dotted their favorite hunting-grounds, on the borders of the lakes and rivers which stretch from the Hudson to Niagara, and from the St. Lawrence to the Ohio. Oh! the cruel desolation which swept them away!Young-King was one of those who fled before the American army under General Sullivan, who was sent to destroy their settlements in 1777. But he was only a[215]boy, being, as he thought, ten or twelve years of age—as his mother gave him a frying-pan to carry on their flying route to Canada, where they went to seek the protection of the British, in whose service their warriors had fought,“And in their cause bled nobly.”He was the son of “Old Smoke,” one of the most distinguished sachems of the Six Nations, and though not equal to his father, was the keeper of the council-fire, and ever won the respect of enemies and the love of friends.As I read over volumes of history in order to glean the truth from the great mass of details, I cannot help being struck with the different manner in which massacre and bloodshed are represented when Indians are spoken of, and when the same things are recorded of white men. The villages of Wyoming and Cherry Valley were devastated and destroyed by British and Indians, and the shocking story is repeated and dwelt upon as unparalleled in atrocity. The Indian is called a barbarian and bloodthirsty assassin—the personification of cruelty and revenge. But when it is recorded of the American army that “they were sent in every direction to overrun and lay waste Indian settlements, cut down their orchards, destroy their provisions and crops, kill their cattle and horses, and apply the besom of destruction to every thing that could give shelter or sustenance to man or beast;” and it is added, that “they meted out the full measure of destruction and desolation upon every settlement that came in their way, and actually destroyed forty Indian villages, one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn, vast quantities of beans and other vegetables, a great number of horses, and all farming utensils, and indeed[216]every thing that was the result of labor or the produce of cultivation; all this being the unmolested and unremitting employment of five thousand men for three weeks;” and to close their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the ancient metropolis of the Seneca Nation, which contained one hundred and twenty-eight houses—many being killed and many taken prisoners, and all obliged to flee—men, women, and children—through the wilderness, strewing the way with the dead and dying—it is called “gallant,” a “brilliant achievement,” a “glorious exploit!” That Indian mothers see their children murdered before their eyes, or starving, or wasting from sickness, is nothing to excite pity or call forth compassion. That the horses, and cows, and sheep of Indians are burnt, and all their pleasant fields laid waste, is matter of rejoicing. Their homes were far more dear to them than were the homes of those who had occupied them but for a few years; for they were living with the legends and sweet associations of centuries. They were deprived of their birthright. I have listened with horror as I have heard old men relate the tales of hunger, and sickness, and misery to which thousands were reduced by an act which gained for the victors immortal honors and not a single censure.The Indians were the allies of the English, and faithful to their plighted word. They fought according to their rules of warfare, and fought for their homes and their firesides, their wives and their children, and fought in vain. Theirs, too, were happy homes, where love and domestic virtue dwelt; and their freedom from envyings and jealousies, and strife and malice, might put many Christian homes to shame. Instead of wondering that they hated white people, I only wonder that the wounds they received should ever have healed—that they do not[217]rankle for ever, and produce utter detestation and unconquerable enmity to every thing with a pale skin.This has been the case with many, and made it almost impossible for the missionaries to convince them that a religion taught by such a people, could have in it any good thing. And only by living among them, andexemplifyingits principles by long and intimate intercourse, could induce them to listen to the Gospel messages.Young-King was one of the first among the Seneca chiefs to see the good influence of education and the Christian religion upon his people; and his influence was very great, standing as he did so high as a warrior and chief.Like too many, too, he partook of thefire-water, and for many years was a victim of the lowest intemperance. In a drunken brawl he lost an arm, and a finger from the remaining hand; but after he became a Christian, not a drop ever wet his lips. At one time, on a journey, he was thrown from his carriage, and badly injured. When the physician came, he was groaning upon the floor in a neighboring hut; but the whiskey-bottle stood upon the table, and was an irresistible temptation; he must drink before he could attend his patient. When Young-King observed it, he asked “What you drink?” The doctor answered, “Whiskey, and it will do you good; come, take a glass!” “No,” said the chief, “and you no bleed me, you no bleed me!” and though in the most intense suffering, he would not allow any thing to be done for him by a man who drank whiskey.He was the first man who built a rod of fence on the Buffalo Reservation, where the missionaries first resided; and often, in the cold winter days, would be seen on Saturday, crossing the creek in his little canoe, to see if the church were supplied with fuel for the Sabbath; and if it[218]were not, with his one hand wielded the axe, and chopped the little pile, which he also carried to the door, to be sure that it was ready for the morning service, saying, he came so late into the vineyard, he must work diligently in order to accomplish any thing before he was called away. He enjoyed very little direct instruction, and could not read; yet he seemed to understand clearly the history of redemption, and the nature of the atonement, as well as the intricate workings of the human heart.His manners were very refined and gentlemanly; and his deportment, at all times, that of one who had been well-bred and accustomed to cultivated circles; and the old-fashioned hospitality which characterizes his people, was kept up at his fireside; the poor were welcome, the hungry were fed, and the friendless made to feel that there was still in store for them sympathy and the kindness of cordial friendship.He early lost the wife of his youth, but in the wife of his old age he had a genuine helpmate, who participated in his desire to do good among his people, encouraged his hospitality, and set an example of prudence and dignity at the head of her household.They united with the little mission church on the same day, and reminded one of disciples at the feet of Jesus, when they listened to the words of the preacher, so childlike were their manners, and so trusting the expression of their countenances as they drank at the fountain of knowledge.The punishment of children in the schools often caused much trouble among parents, and Young-King proposed that there should be a committee appointed among the chiefs to visit the schools regularly, and encourage the teachers, by talking to the children of the necessity of obedience and order, and the importance of education;[219]proving in all times of trouble an able and faithful counsellor, and a support in every good cause.Wicked white men often tempted him, in order to overcome his temperance resolutions and lead him into sin; but he was always firm, and brought no dishonor, in any way, upon the cause which he had espoused.During the last war, he was on the side of the United States, and the remainder of his life received a pension of two hundred dollars a year, as compensation for his bravery, and a wound which he received in performance of his meritorious services.He died in 1835, and lies in the Mission Burial-Ground, about four miles from Buffalo, where are also most of the distinguished men and women of the nation who have died in the last half century. It is a consecrated spot indeed to the Indian and to the mission, for there are the lost and loved ones of their own little families, and the first fruits of their labors among a pagan people, who received Christian burial. It was once a fort, and the soldiers’ graveyard; and warriors of many nations, and Christian pilgrims, and little children, whom Jesus took in his arms and blessed, now mingle their dust beneath the same green mounds; and some of them will awake at the sound of the last trump on the resurrection morn, and enter together the New Jerusalem.[220]
CHAPTER X.DIGNITY OF CHARACTER AMONG THE IROQUOIS, ILLUSTRATED BY THE LIFE OF FARMER’S BROTHER AND YOUNG KING.
Red Jacket has been most conspicuous among the Chiefs of the Seneca Nation, because he excelled in those qualities which his enemies were willing to allow were great. He was not a warrior but an orator, and however marvellous his speeches and cutting his sarcasms, it did them no great harm in those points where their interest was most concerned. What he said was true, and pierced like a sword, but it fell powerless so far as preventing the wrongs of which he complained, or preserving his people from the doom which avarice had marked out. So even those who felt most keenly hishome thrusts, were willing to applaud and crown him with honor.But the warrior was more dangerous, and courage, and fortitude, and skill, in an Indian, did not receive these names. His bravery was savage desperation, his fortitude sullenness, and his successful stratagems treachery. When a war of extermination was planned by white men, it was said to be in self-defence, but they could not understand that Indians might be influenced by the same motive. A wrong to one individual or clan was more essentially a wrong to the whole, among a people who were comparatively so few and scattered, than among flourishing communities.[203]The death of a few distinguished warriors or chiefs, was a loss which could not be easily supplied; when their forests were cut down and their villages were laid waste, there was nothing left but starvation for themselves and families, or else to bid for ever farewell to the hills and valleys, and rocks and streams, which were hallowed by the legends of centuries,—the birth-place and burial-place of their fathers. They appreciated every thing that was beautiful in scenery, and loved their native wilds as we love the spot where we were born. When they went forth to defend them, it was not in cold blood, but with enthusiasm—an enthusiasm kindled by the purest and loftiest sentiments which can animate the human soul. On the field of battle, they were bewildered and maddened by the pompous array and the flashing fire, and when overcome they were desperate, sullen and revengeful.Farmer’s Brother might have shone in the council, but he preferred the war-path. He had all the gifts of Red Jacket, and some which the great orator had not. He was truly noble, possessing the virtues which command respect in the world, and endear to the heart in social and domestic life. By one who knew him intimately as a companion on the war-path and in the camp, he is said to be “the most noble Indian in form and mould—in carriage and in soul, of that generation of his race.” He led the warriors of his nation in the war of 1812, during which they were remarkable for magnanimity and kindness—for listening to the dictates of humanity, where even the rules of civilized nations would have sanctioned a different course. During the revolutionary war he was a faithful ally of the British; and is said to have been in the bloody battle in which Braddock lost his life and the flower of the British army in the old French war.As almost his whole life was on the war-path, there is[204]very little to be said of him as a private man. During the wars with the Western Indians, he made several speeches which were remarkable for power and eloquence, but so early as that period it was not the custom to preserve the speeches of the Indians, and no portion of these remain. But he made one in behalf of two white men, who had been taken captive in their childhood and adopted by the Indians, and to whom they wished to give a tract of land, to be theirs and their children’s for ever. As this donation could not be made without the consent of the State, at the convening of the General Assembly this petition was sent by the Chiefs, Sachems and warriors, and written by Farmer’s Brother. It is another proof of the consideration shown to captives by the Indians. Mr. Jones and Mr. Parish had been interpreters for the Six Nations, and always true and faithful to the Indian interests.“The Sachems, Chiefs, and warriors of the Seneca nation to the Sachems and Chiefs assembled about the great Council Fire of the State of New York:“Brothers:—As you are once more assembled in council for the purpose of doing honor to yourselves and justice to your country; we, your brothers, the Sachems, Chiefs and warriors of the Seneca nation, request you to open your ears and give attention to our voice and wishes.“Brothers:—You recollect the late contest between you and your father, the great King of England. This contest threw the inhabitants of this island into great tumult and commotion, like a raging whirlwind which tears up the trees, and tosses to and fro the leaves, so that no one knows from whence they come, or where they will fall.“Brothers:—This whirlwind was so directed by the Great Spirit above as to throw into our arms two of your[205]infant children, Jasper Parish and Horatio Jones. We adopted them into our families and made them our children. We loved them and nourished them. They lived with us many years.At length the Great Spirit spoke to the whirlwind, and it was still.A clear and uninterrupted sky appeared. The path of peace was opened, and the chain of friendship was once more made bright. Then these our adopted children left us to seek their relations. We wished them to return among us, and promised if they would return, and live in our country, to give each of them a seat of land for them and their children to sit down upon.“Brothers:—They have returned, and have for several years past been serviceable to us as interpreters. We still feel our hearts beat with affection for them, and now wish to fulfil the promise we made them, and to reward them for their services. We have therefore made up our minds to give them a seat of ten square miles of land, lying on the outlet of Lake Erie, about three miles below Black Rock, beginning at the mouth of a creek known by the name of Scoy-gu-quay-des Creek.“Brothers:—We have now made known to you our minds; we expect and earnestly request that you will permit our friends to receive this our gift, and will make the same good to them according to the laws and customs of your nation.“Brothers:—Why should you hesitate to make our minds easy with regard to this our request? To you it is but a little thing, and have you not complied with the request, and confirmed the gift of the Oneidas, the Onondagas and Cayugas, to their interpreters? And shall we ask and not be heard?“Brothers:—We send you this our speech, to which[206]we expect your answer before the breaking up of your great council fire.”Mr. Jones, who is alluded to, was taken captive at the age of sixteen, on the banks of the “Blue Juniata,” and conveyed to the Genesee Valley, where he was adopted into an Indian family, and remained five years, when he was made interpreter for the Six Nations by General Washington.He was the favorite interpreter of Red Jacket; and having secured the perfect confidence of the Indians, had great influence over them.He married an Indian wife, and his son became one of the most respected among the Seneca chiefs; he married the step-daughter of Red Jacket, and left an interesting family of children, one of whom was presented by the dying mother to the missionaries, who adopted it for their own. It was a little girl, whom they named Louisa Maria, and who, though she died in early childhood, lived long enough to become a bud of promise; yes, a blossom of Christian love, and hope and faith, a lamb of Christ’s flock. She belonged to the class of those who always die in infancy, “whose names are all on gravestones.” They are perfected without the discipline of earth’s trials, and transplanted, to bloom as spring flowers in the gardens above. Life would be a dreary pathway without the little ones, and the heavenly choir would not make so sweet melody without the music of their voices.Mr. Parish was born in Connecticut, and afterwards emigrated to Pennsylvania. His home was the Vale of Wyoming, and he experienced the fate of so many of its children. He was taken captive when he was eleven, and adopted with the usual ceremonies, being transferred from one nation to another, and experiencing all the vicissitudes of Indian life during seven years, when he was released.[207]He could speak five of the Indian dialects fluently, and was interpreter for the Six Nations thirty years.Farmer’s Brother, at one time on a visit to Philadelphia, was presented with a silver medal by Washington, which bore his own likeness, and of which the chief was very proud, wearing it suspended from his neck, and saying he would lose it only with his life.During the war of 1812 he was often associated with Captain Worth, who was a great favorite with the Indians. At one time he was very sick for several weeks, and the Indians lingered about his tent, expressing the greatest anxiety, ready for any service, and Farmer’s Brother was in the habit of sitting by his bedside several hours every day.On one occasion, a Chippewa Indian crossed over from Canada, and joined a little party near the quarters of Captain Worth, pretending that he had deserted. But Indians of any nation were not in the habit of deserting, so his new companions did not believe his story. Still they did not molest him, and he mingled with them freely, listening to their stories and relating his own, till one day an indiscretion betrayed him. The Americans and some of their red allies were boasting of the number of redcoats they had killed, when the Chippewa, forgetting his disguise, also boasted, but it was of the Yankees and Senecas he had slain. Ah, yes! he was a spy; and quickly was he arraigned to answer for his sin.Farmer’s Brother was by his sick friend, but hearing the noise without, he sallied forth to learn the cause. The poor Chippewa was surrounded by warriors, that he might not make his escape, and pointed out to the old chief with great contempt as an enemy in their midst. He learned the particulars, and then stepped up to the Chippewa, with a word or two, which he alone understood; and immediately[208]the culprit drew his blanket over his head, and coolly received a blow from the war-club, which sent him staggering to the ground.For a moment he was stunned and motionless, but suddenly he sprung to his feet, rushed through the circle, and fled. To shrink from pain or fear death, was an ever-living disgrace to an Indian, and he had not gone far when the taunts of the Senecas stung him more than would a thousand barbed arrows. He stopped, deliberately retraced his steps, and entered again the circle. Yes, he would die with all the heroism of an Indian warrior; and the Athenian philosopher did not more coolly swallow the poison mixed by his enemies, than the dauntless Chippewa seated himself upon the ground, and drew again his blanket over his head, to receive the death blow. Now they permitted him to be shot, and Farmer’s Brother discharged the contents of his faithful rifle in his breast.During the same war, a fugitive Mohawk, from the enemy, had endeavored to pass for a Seneca, and came among those who were led by this famous chief, who immediately recognized him.“I know you well,” said he; “you belong to the Mohawks. You are a spy. Here is my rifle, my tomahawk, my scalping knife; say which shall I use; I am in haste.”The young Mohawk knew there was no hope, and said he would die by the rifle. He was ordered to lie down upon the grass, and with one foot upon his breast, the chieftain shot him through the head.Some of my readers will be ready to exclaim, “How heartless and barbarous!” and thoroughly savage, too, perhaps; but I shall only have to refer them for a parallel, to English and American history only a few years before, when young Hale was hung in an English camp for being a spy, and the gallant Major Andre in an American camp[209]for the same reason; and no petitions or pleadings could procure for them a more honorable death. “Only permit me to be shot, and I will glory in my death,” plead the brave young man who was risking life, and honor too, in the service of his country, and whose only sin was that he dared too much for the cause he had espoused. But even Washington would not relent, and the noble youth was hung like a common felon.The simplicity of the Indian in money matters, and especially concerning the interest of sums deposited in banks, was very amusing. At one time there was ceded a tract of land including four millions of acres, for which they were to receive one hundred thousand pounds; the Indians being told that the interest of the money would be more useful than so much unproductive land, and this interest should be paid them annually. It was very difficult at first for them to comprehend the nature of a bank, and how money could be made to grow, knowing as they did that it was not placed in the earth to produce like corn. They saw that it was planted and produced a crop, but the place and the process were a great mystery. But those on whom devolved the business soon made themselves masters of the science, and knew very quick if the crop was not the full amount, though the uninitiated would sometimes ask what the prospect was in a season like that? The figure was adopted, and is still used in their language, of saying the money is planted and grows. They have planted a certain sum, and it has grown to a great amount. As few of them could count more than a hundred, it was a long time before they could reckon a hundred thousand; and their first lesson was given by filling a cask with dollars, and then another, and showing them how many casks would be required to contain the[210]whole, and how many horses would be necessary in order to draw it.It was in the making of this treaty that Red Jacket was guilty of a duplicity which left a dark stain upon his name for ever, and sowed enmity between him and the honest Farmer’s Brother and Cornplanter, which was never entirely removed.When they heard that there was trouble about the interest of the money that had been deposited in the bank, as it might fail, Farmer’s Brother wrote a letter expressing the fears and misunderstandings of the people, addressed to the Secretary of War.“Brother:—The sachems and chief warriors of the Seneca Nation of Indians, understanding you are the person appointed by the great council of your nation, to manage and conduct the affairs of the several nations of Indians with whom you are at peace and on terms of friendship, come at this time as children to a father, to lay before you the trouble which we have on our minds.“Brother:—Listen to what we say. Some years since we held a treaty at Bigtree, near the Genesee River. This treaty was called by our great father, the President of the United States. At this treaty we sold toRobert Morris, the greatest part of our country; the sum he gave us was one hundred thousand dollars. The commissioners who were appointed on your part, advised us to place this money in the hands of our great father, the President of the United States. He told us our father loved his red children, and would take care of our money, and plant it in a field where it would bear seed for ever, as long as trees grow, or waters run. Our money has heretofore been of great service to us, it has helped us to support our old people and our women and children; but[211]we are told the field where our money was planted is become barren.“Brother:—We do not understand your way of doing business. The thing is very heavy on our minds: we hope you will remove it.”On the reception of this letter the fund was transferred from the bank to the Government of the United States, which has ever since paid the Indians the interest faithfully. From the sale of other lands in the State they receive several thousand dollars, and in all about ($16,500) sixteen thousand five hundred dollars. This is divided equally among men, women, and children. The infant of two days old receives as large a sum as the greatest Chief. It would be infinitely better for them, now, if this money could be appropriated to educational purposes, or devoted to the public benefit in some other way; but there is not yet a sufficient number who appreciate the importance of educational and other improvements, to consent to a change in the distribution of their annuities. Unless they save it every year, they would think they did not have it. Yet there are many who fully understand and strongly advocate abetter way, and I doubt not ere long it will be adopted, and schools and agricultural interests be the first to receive the benefit; for these they are fast learning to value.The following extract from the journal of Mr. Savery, one of a deputation sent in 1794, by the Quakers, to learn the condition and wants of the Indians, will give a glimpse of him in his forest home.“After dinner we went to view Farmer’s Brother’s encampment, which contained about five hundred Indians. They were located by the side of a brook, in the woods; having built about seventy or eighty huts, by far the most commodiously and ingeniously made of any we have yet[212]seen. The principal materials are bark and the boughs of trees, so nicely put together as to keep the family nice and warm. The women as well as the men appeared to be mostly employed. In this camp there are a large number of pretty children, who, in all their activity and buoyancy of health, were diverting themselves according to their fancy. The vast numbers of deer they have killed, since coming here, which they cut up and hang around their huts inside and out to dry, together with the rations of beef which they had drawn daily, give the appearance of plenty to supply the few wants to which they are subjected. The ease and cheerfulness of every countenance, and the delightfulness of the afternoon, which these inhabitants of the woods seemed to enjoy with a relish far superior to those who are pent up in crowded and populous cities, all combined to make this the most pleasant visit I have yet made to the Indians; and induced me to believe that before they became acquainted with white people, and were infected with their vices, they must have been as happy a people as any in the world. In returning to our quarters we passed by the Indian Council, where Red Jacket was displaying his oratory to his brother chiefs. He afterwards made us a visit with his wife and five children, whom he had brought to see us. They were exceedingly well clad, agreeable in their manners, and the best behaved and prettiest Indian children I had ever met with.”In closing the report he says, that during a sojourn of seven weeks among the Indians, they had frequent opportunity of observing the melancholy and demoralizing effects resulting from the supply of ardent spirits furnished them by white people; and the difficulties and hardships to which these poor people, once a free and independent nation, are now subjected, appeared to them[213]loudly to claim the sympathy of friends and others, who have grown opulent upon the land which was their former inheritance.Farmer’s Brother never yielded to the temptation of the fire-water. He lived and died a sober man. “He was a noble instance of a great and magnanimous mind. No one who looked upon him could imbibe feelings of disgust or hatred; and all who knew him well, felt esteem and veneration. He was never guilty of meanness, littleness, or intrigue; but was ever open, dignified, and fearless. He was a fine specimen of the Indian form, and trod the earth like a king, with the impress of integrity and honor upon his face as it was thoroughly stamped upon his character.”“ ‘He was one of nature’s noblemen,——the front of Jove himself,An eye like Mars to threaten and command:A station like the herald Mercury.’ ”“None who saw him will fail to recollect his majestic mien and princely bearing, much less will they who have heard him in council, forget the power and deep-toned melody of his voice—his natural and impressive gestures, and the unaffected and commanding dignity of his manner. Unrivalled as a warrior, and only equalled by Red Jacket in eloquence, speaking in the verity of sober prose, it may be said that his was“ ‘A combination and a form indeed,To give the world assurance of a man.’ ”“His influence with his nation was very great; and his true glory, his open-heartedness, his fidelity to truth, and his generous magnanimity, secured for him the admiration and respect of every white person who had the[214]honor of his acquaintance. He was a firm friend where he promised fidelity, and a bitter enemy to those against whom he contended; and would lose the last drop of blood in his veins sooner than betray the cause he had espoused. He lived to be ninety years of age, dying in 1814, and continued a Pagan to the day of his death, as thoroughly opposed to Christianity and all the inroads of civilization as Red Jacket himself.”[Contents]YOUNG-KING.The Indian names fall strangely, and sometimes harshly onears polite, and when belonging to persons of dignity, convey to us any thing but an idea of the true qualities of those who bore them. YetBig-Kettlewas a truly great and noble man; and every time I find myself in company with Indians, I am introduced to those whose names bring a smile to my lips in spite of all my attempts at gravity; like Mr. Silver-heels, Mr. Sun-down, and Mr. Tall-Chief. Young-King was a chief of the Seneca Nation, and one of whom the people were very proud on account of his bravery in war, his wisdom in council, and his mild, pacific character in social life. He was born at Canandaigua, which signifies in their language “The Chosen City,” and indicates far more to them than it does to us of beauty in scenery and location, and was to the Indian one of his most loved spots, among all the smiling valleys and fruitful fields which dotted their favorite hunting-grounds, on the borders of the lakes and rivers which stretch from the Hudson to Niagara, and from the St. Lawrence to the Ohio. Oh! the cruel desolation which swept them away!Young-King was one of those who fled before the American army under General Sullivan, who was sent to destroy their settlements in 1777. But he was only a[215]boy, being, as he thought, ten or twelve years of age—as his mother gave him a frying-pan to carry on their flying route to Canada, where they went to seek the protection of the British, in whose service their warriors had fought,“And in their cause bled nobly.”He was the son of “Old Smoke,” one of the most distinguished sachems of the Six Nations, and though not equal to his father, was the keeper of the council-fire, and ever won the respect of enemies and the love of friends.As I read over volumes of history in order to glean the truth from the great mass of details, I cannot help being struck with the different manner in which massacre and bloodshed are represented when Indians are spoken of, and when the same things are recorded of white men. The villages of Wyoming and Cherry Valley were devastated and destroyed by British and Indians, and the shocking story is repeated and dwelt upon as unparalleled in atrocity. The Indian is called a barbarian and bloodthirsty assassin—the personification of cruelty and revenge. But when it is recorded of the American army that “they were sent in every direction to overrun and lay waste Indian settlements, cut down their orchards, destroy their provisions and crops, kill their cattle and horses, and apply the besom of destruction to every thing that could give shelter or sustenance to man or beast;” and it is added, that “they meted out the full measure of destruction and desolation upon every settlement that came in their way, and actually destroyed forty Indian villages, one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn, vast quantities of beans and other vegetables, a great number of horses, and all farming utensils, and indeed[216]every thing that was the result of labor or the produce of cultivation; all this being the unmolested and unremitting employment of five thousand men for three weeks;” and to close their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the ancient metropolis of the Seneca Nation, which contained one hundred and twenty-eight houses—many being killed and many taken prisoners, and all obliged to flee—men, women, and children—through the wilderness, strewing the way with the dead and dying—it is called “gallant,” a “brilliant achievement,” a “glorious exploit!” That Indian mothers see their children murdered before their eyes, or starving, or wasting from sickness, is nothing to excite pity or call forth compassion. That the horses, and cows, and sheep of Indians are burnt, and all their pleasant fields laid waste, is matter of rejoicing. Their homes were far more dear to them than were the homes of those who had occupied them but for a few years; for they were living with the legends and sweet associations of centuries. They were deprived of their birthright. I have listened with horror as I have heard old men relate the tales of hunger, and sickness, and misery to which thousands were reduced by an act which gained for the victors immortal honors and not a single censure.The Indians were the allies of the English, and faithful to their plighted word. They fought according to their rules of warfare, and fought for their homes and their firesides, their wives and their children, and fought in vain. Theirs, too, were happy homes, where love and domestic virtue dwelt; and their freedom from envyings and jealousies, and strife and malice, might put many Christian homes to shame. Instead of wondering that they hated white people, I only wonder that the wounds they received should ever have healed—that they do not[217]rankle for ever, and produce utter detestation and unconquerable enmity to every thing with a pale skin.This has been the case with many, and made it almost impossible for the missionaries to convince them that a religion taught by such a people, could have in it any good thing. And only by living among them, andexemplifyingits principles by long and intimate intercourse, could induce them to listen to the Gospel messages.Young-King was one of the first among the Seneca chiefs to see the good influence of education and the Christian religion upon his people; and his influence was very great, standing as he did so high as a warrior and chief.Like too many, too, he partook of thefire-water, and for many years was a victim of the lowest intemperance. In a drunken brawl he lost an arm, and a finger from the remaining hand; but after he became a Christian, not a drop ever wet his lips. At one time, on a journey, he was thrown from his carriage, and badly injured. When the physician came, he was groaning upon the floor in a neighboring hut; but the whiskey-bottle stood upon the table, and was an irresistible temptation; he must drink before he could attend his patient. When Young-King observed it, he asked “What you drink?” The doctor answered, “Whiskey, and it will do you good; come, take a glass!” “No,” said the chief, “and you no bleed me, you no bleed me!” and though in the most intense suffering, he would not allow any thing to be done for him by a man who drank whiskey.He was the first man who built a rod of fence on the Buffalo Reservation, where the missionaries first resided; and often, in the cold winter days, would be seen on Saturday, crossing the creek in his little canoe, to see if the church were supplied with fuel for the Sabbath; and if it[218]were not, with his one hand wielded the axe, and chopped the little pile, which he also carried to the door, to be sure that it was ready for the morning service, saying, he came so late into the vineyard, he must work diligently in order to accomplish any thing before he was called away. He enjoyed very little direct instruction, and could not read; yet he seemed to understand clearly the history of redemption, and the nature of the atonement, as well as the intricate workings of the human heart.His manners were very refined and gentlemanly; and his deportment, at all times, that of one who had been well-bred and accustomed to cultivated circles; and the old-fashioned hospitality which characterizes his people, was kept up at his fireside; the poor were welcome, the hungry were fed, and the friendless made to feel that there was still in store for them sympathy and the kindness of cordial friendship.He early lost the wife of his youth, but in the wife of his old age he had a genuine helpmate, who participated in his desire to do good among his people, encouraged his hospitality, and set an example of prudence and dignity at the head of her household.They united with the little mission church on the same day, and reminded one of disciples at the feet of Jesus, when they listened to the words of the preacher, so childlike were their manners, and so trusting the expression of their countenances as they drank at the fountain of knowledge.The punishment of children in the schools often caused much trouble among parents, and Young-King proposed that there should be a committee appointed among the chiefs to visit the schools regularly, and encourage the teachers, by talking to the children of the necessity of obedience and order, and the importance of education;[219]proving in all times of trouble an able and faithful counsellor, and a support in every good cause.Wicked white men often tempted him, in order to overcome his temperance resolutions and lead him into sin; but he was always firm, and brought no dishonor, in any way, upon the cause which he had espoused.During the last war, he was on the side of the United States, and the remainder of his life received a pension of two hundred dollars a year, as compensation for his bravery, and a wound which he received in performance of his meritorious services.He died in 1835, and lies in the Mission Burial-Ground, about four miles from Buffalo, where are also most of the distinguished men and women of the nation who have died in the last half century. It is a consecrated spot indeed to the Indian and to the mission, for there are the lost and loved ones of their own little families, and the first fruits of their labors among a pagan people, who received Christian burial. It was once a fort, and the soldiers’ graveyard; and warriors of many nations, and Christian pilgrims, and little children, whom Jesus took in his arms and blessed, now mingle their dust beneath the same green mounds; and some of them will awake at the sound of the last trump on the resurrection morn, and enter together the New Jerusalem.[220]
Red Jacket has been most conspicuous among the Chiefs of the Seneca Nation, because he excelled in those qualities which his enemies were willing to allow were great. He was not a warrior but an orator, and however marvellous his speeches and cutting his sarcasms, it did them no great harm in those points where their interest was most concerned. What he said was true, and pierced like a sword, but it fell powerless so far as preventing the wrongs of which he complained, or preserving his people from the doom which avarice had marked out. So even those who felt most keenly hishome thrusts, were willing to applaud and crown him with honor.
But the warrior was more dangerous, and courage, and fortitude, and skill, in an Indian, did not receive these names. His bravery was savage desperation, his fortitude sullenness, and his successful stratagems treachery. When a war of extermination was planned by white men, it was said to be in self-defence, but they could not understand that Indians might be influenced by the same motive. A wrong to one individual or clan was more essentially a wrong to the whole, among a people who were comparatively so few and scattered, than among flourishing communities.[203]The death of a few distinguished warriors or chiefs, was a loss which could not be easily supplied; when their forests were cut down and their villages were laid waste, there was nothing left but starvation for themselves and families, or else to bid for ever farewell to the hills and valleys, and rocks and streams, which were hallowed by the legends of centuries,—the birth-place and burial-place of their fathers. They appreciated every thing that was beautiful in scenery, and loved their native wilds as we love the spot where we were born. When they went forth to defend them, it was not in cold blood, but with enthusiasm—an enthusiasm kindled by the purest and loftiest sentiments which can animate the human soul. On the field of battle, they were bewildered and maddened by the pompous array and the flashing fire, and when overcome they were desperate, sullen and revengeful.
Farmer’s Brother might have shone in the council, but he preferred the war-path. He had all the gifts of Red Jacket, and some which the great orator had not. He was truly noble, possessing the virtues which command respect in the world, and endear to the heart in social and domestic life. By one who knew him intimately as a companion on the war-path and in the camp, he is said to be “the most noble Indian in form and mould—in carriage and in soul, of that generation of his race.” He led the warriors of his nation in the war of 1812, during which they were remarkable for magnanimity and kindness—for listening to the dictates of humanity, where even the rules of civilized nations would have sanctioned a different course. During the revolutionary war he was a faithful ally of the British; and is said to have been in the bloody battle in which Braddock lost his life and the flower of the British army in the old French war.
As almost his whole life was on the war-path, there is[204]very little to be said of him as a private man. During the wars with the Western Indians, he made several speeches which were remarkable for power and eloquence, but so early as that period it was not the custom to preserve the speeches of the Indians, and no portion of these remain. But he made one in behalf of two white men, who had been taken captive in their childhood and adopted by the Indians, and to whom they wished to give a tract of land, to be theirs and their children’s for ever. As this donation could not be made without the consent of the State, at the convening of the General Assembly this petition was sent by the Chiefs, Sachems and warriors, and written by Farmer’s Brother. It is another proof of the consideration shown to captives by the Indians. Mr. Jones and Mr. Parish had been interpreters for the Six Nations, and always true and faithful to the Indian interests.
“The Sachems, Chiefs, and warriors of the Seneca nation to the Sachems and Chiefs assembled about the great Council Fire of the State of New York:
“Brothers:—As you are once more assembled in council for the purpose of doing honor to yourselves and justice to your country; we, your brothers, the Sachems, Chiefs and warriors of the Seneca nation, request you to open your ears and give attention to our voice and wishes.
“Brothers:—You recollect the late contest between you and your father, the great King of England. This contest threw the inhabitants of this island into great tumult and commotion, like a raging whirlwind which tears up the trees, and tosses to and fro the leaves, so that no one knows from whence they come, or where they will fall.
“Brothers:—This whirlwind was so directed by the Great Spirit above as to throw into our arms two of your[205]infant children, Jasper Parish and Horatio Jones. We adopted them into our families and made them our children. We loved them and nourished them. They lived with us many years.At length the Great Spirit spoke to the whirlwind, and it was still.A clear and uninterrupted sky appeared. The path of peace was opened, and the chain of friendship was once more made bright. Then these our adopted children left us to seek their relations. We wished them to return among us, and promised if they would return, and live in our country, to give each of them a seat of land for them and their children to sit down upon.
“Brothers:—They have returned, and have for several years past been serviceable to us as interpreters. We still feel our hearts beat with affection for them, and now wish to fulfil the promise we made them, and to reward them for their services. We have therefore made up our minds to give them a seat of ten square miles of land, lying on the outlet of Lake Erie, about three miles below Black Rock, beginning at the mouth of a creek known by the name of Scoy-gu-quay-des Creek.
“Brothers:—We have now made known to you our minds; we expect and earnestly request that you will permit our friends to receive this our gift, and will make the same good to them according to the laws and customs of your nation.
“Brothers:—Why should you hesitate to make our minds easy with regard to this our request? To you it is but a little thing, and have you not complied with the request, and confirmed the gift of the Oneidas, the Onondagas and Cayugas, to their interpreters? And shall we ask and not be heard?
“Brothers:—We send you this our speech, to which[206]we expect your answer before the breaking up of your great council fire.”
Mr. Jones, who is alluded to, was taken captive at the age of sixteen, on the banks of the “Blue Juniata,” and conveyed to the Genesee Valley, where he was adopted into an Indian family, and remained five years, when he was made interpreter for the Six Nations by General Washington.
He was the favorite interpreter of Red Jacket; and having secured the perfect confidence of the Indians, had great influence over them.
He married an Indian wife, and his son became one of the most respected among the Seneca chiefs; he married the step-daughter of Red Jacket, and left an interesting family of children, one of whom was presented by the dying mother to the missionaries, who adopted it for their own. It was a little girl, whom they named Louisa Maria, and who, though she died in early childhood, lived long enough to become a bud of promise; yes, a blossom of Christian love, and hope and faith, a lamb of Christ’s flock. She belonged to the class of those who always die in infancy, “whose names are all on gravestones.” They are perfected without the discipline of earth’s trials, and transplanted, to bloom as spring flowers in the gardens above. Life would be a dreary pathway without the little ones, and the heavenly choir would not make so sweet melody without the music of their voices.
Mr. Parish was born in Connecticut, and afterwards emigrated to Pennsylvania. His home was the Vale of Wyoming, and he experienced the fate of so many of its children. He was taken captive when he was eleven, and adopted with the usual ceremonies, being transferred from one nation to another, and experiencing all the vicissitudes of Indian life during seven years, when he was released.[207]He could speak five of the Indian dialects fluently, and was interpreter for the Six Nations thirty years.
Farmer’s Brother, at one time on a visit to Philadelphia, was presented with a silver medal by Washington, which bore his own likeness, and of which the chief was very proud, wearing it suspended from his neck, and saying he would lose it only with his life.
During the war of 1812 he was often associated with Captain Worth, who was a great favorite with the Indians. At one time he was very sick for several weeks, and the Indians lingered about his tent, expressing the greatest anxiety, ready for any service, and Farmer’s Brother was in the habit of sitting by his bedside several hours every day.
On one occasion, a Chippewa Indian crossed over from Canada, and joined a little party near the quarters of Captain Worth, pretending that he had deserted. But Indians of any nation were not in the habit of deserting, so his new companions did not believe his story. Still they did not molest him, and he mingled with them freely, listening to their stories and relating his own, till one day an indiscretion betrayed him. The Americans and some of their red allies were boasting of the number of redcoats they had killed, when the Chippewa, forgetting his disguise, also boasted, but it was of the Yankees and Senecas he had slain. Ah, yes! he was a spy; and quickly was he arraigned to answer for his sin.
Farmer’s Brother was by his sick friend, but hearing the noise without, he sallied forth to learn the cause. The poor Chippewa was surrounded by warriors, that he might not make his escape, and pointed out to the old chief with great contempt as an enemy in their midst. He learned the particulars, and then stepped up to the Chippewa, with a word or two, which he alone understood; and immediately[208]the culprit drew his blanket over his head, and coolly received a blow from the war-club, which sent him staggering to the ground.
For a moment he was stunned and motionless, but suddenly he sprung to his feet, rushed through the circle, and fled. To shrink from pain or fear death, was an ever-living disgrace to an Indian, and he had not gone far when the taunts of the Senecas stung him more than would a thousand barbed arrows. He stopped, deliberately retraced his steps, and entered again the circle. Yes, he would die with all the heroism of an Indian warrior; and the Athenian philosopher did not more coolly swallow the poison mixed by his enemies, than the dauntless Chippewa seated himself upon the ground, and drew again his blanket over his head, to receive the death blow. Now they permitted him to be shot, and Farmer’s Brother discharged the contents of his faithful rifle in his breast.
During the same war, a fugitive Mohawk, from the enemy, had endeavored to pass for a Seneca, and came among those who were led by this famous chief, who immediately recognized him.
“I know you well,” said he; “you belong to the Mohawks. You are a spy. Here is my rifle, my tomahawk, my scalping knife; say which shall I use; I am in haste.”
The young Mohawk knew there was no hope, and said he would die by the rifle. He was ordered to lie down upon the grass, and with one foot upon his breast, the chieftain shot him through the head.
Some of my readers will be ready to exclaim, “How heartless and barbarous!” and thoroughly savage, too, perhaps; but I shall only have to refer them for a parallel, to English and American history only a few years before, when young Hale was hung in an English camp for being a spy, and the gallant Major Andre in an American camp[209]for the same reason; and no petitions or pleadings could procure for them a more honorable death. “Only permit me to be shot, and I will glory in my death,” plead the brave young man who was risking life, and honor too, in the service of his country, and whose only sin was that he dared too much for the cause he had espoused. But even Washington would not relent, and the noble youth was hung like a common felon.
The simplicity of the Indian in money matters, and especially concerning the interest of sums deposited in banks, was very amusing. At one time there was ceded a tract of land including four millions of acres, for which they were to receive one hundred thousand pounds; the Indians being told that the interest of the money would be more useful than so much unproductive land, and this interest should be paid them annually. It was very difficult at first for them to comprehend the nature of a bank, and how money could be made to grow, knowing as they did that it was not placed in the earth to produce like corn. They saw that it was planted and produced a crop, but the place and the process were a great mystery. But those on whom devolved the business soon made themselves masters of the science, and knew very quick if the crop was not the full amount, though the uninitiated would sometimes ask what the prospect was in a season like that? The figure was adopted, and is still used in their language, of saying the money is planted and grows. They have planted a certain sum, and it has grown to a great amount. As few of them could count more than a hundred, it was a long time before they could reckon a hundred thousand; and their first lesson was given by filling a cask with dollars, and then another, and showing them how many casks would be required to contain the[210]whole, and how many horses would be necessary in order to draw it.
It was in the making of this treaty that Red Jacket was guilty of a duplicity which left a dark stain upon his name for ever, and sowed enmity between him and the honest Farmer’s Brother and Cornplanter, which was never entirely removed.
When they heard that there was trouble about the interest of the money that had been deposited in the bank, as it might fail, Farmer’s Brother wrote a letter expressing the fears and misunderstandings of the people, addressed to the Secretary of War.
“Brother:—The sachems and chief warriors of the Seneca Nation of Indians, understanding you are the person appointed by the great council of your nation, to manage and conduct the affairs of the several nations of Indians with whom you are at peace and on terms of friendship, come at this time as children to a father, to lay before you the trouble which we have on our minds.
“Brother:—Listen to what we say. Some years since we held a treaty at Bigtree, near the Genesee River. This treaty was called by our great father, the President of the United States. At this treaty we sold toRobert Morris, the greatest part of our country; the sum he gave us was one hundred thousand dollars. The commissioners who were appointed on your part, advised us to place this money in the hands of our great father, the President of the United States. He told us our father loved his red children, and would take care of our money, and plant it in a field where it would bear seed for ever, as long as trees grow, or waters run. Our money has heretofore been of great service to us, it has helped us to support our old people and our women and children; but[211]we are told the field where our money was planted is become barren.
“Brother:—We do not understand your way of doing business. The thing is very heavy on our minds: we hope you will remove it.”
On the reception of this letter the fund was transferred from the bank to the Government of the United States, which has ever since paid the Indians the interest faithfully. From the sale of other lands in the State they receive several thousand dollars, and in all about ($16,500) sixteen thousand five hundred dollars. This is divided equally among men, women, and children. The infant of two days old receives as large a sum as the greatest Chief. It would be infinitely better for them, now, if this money could be appropriated to educational purposes, or devoted to the public benefit in some other way; but there is not yet a sufficient number who appreciate the importance of educational and other improvements, to consent to a change in the distribution of their annuities. Unless they save it every year, they would think they did not have it. Yet there are many who fully understand and strongly advocate abetter way, and I doubt not ere long it will be adopted, and schools and agricultural interests be the first to receive the benefit; for these they are fast learning to value.
The following extract from the journal of Mr. Savery, one of a deputation sent in 1794, by the Quakers, to learn the condition and wants of the Indians, will give a glimpse of him in his forest home.
“After dinner we went to view Farmer’s Brother’s encampment, which contained about five hundred Indians. They were located by the side of a brook, in the woods; having built about seventy or eighty huts, by far the most commodiously and ingeniously made of any we have yet[212]seen. The principal materials are bark and the boughs of trees, so nicely put together as to keep the family nice and warm. The women as well as the men appeared to be mostly employed. In this camp there are a large number of pretty children, who, in all their activity and buoyancy of health, were diverting themselves according to their fancy. The vast numbers of deer they have killed, since coming here, which they cut up and hang around their huts inside and out to dry, together with the rations of beef which they had drawn daily, give the appearance of plenty to supply the few wants to which they are subjected. The ease and cheerfulness of every countenance, and the delightfulness of the afternoon, which these inhabitants of the woods seemed to enjoy with a relish far superior to those who are pent up in crowded and populous cities, all combined to make this the most pleasant visit I have yet made to the Indians; and induced me to believe that before they became acquainted with white people, and were infected with their vices, they must have been as happy a people as any in the world. In returning to our quarters we passed by the Indian Council, where Red Jacket was displaying his oratory to his brother chiefs. He afterwards made us a visit with his wife and five children, whom he had brought to see us. They were exceedingly well clad, agreeable in their manners, and the best behaved and prettiest Indian children I had ever met with.”
In closing the report he says, that during a sojourn of seven weeks among the Indians, they had frequent opportunity of observing the melancholy and demoralizing effects resulting from the supply of ardent spirits furnished them by white people; and the difficulties and hardships to which these poor people, once a free and independent nation, are now subjected, appeared to them[213]loudly to claim the sympathy of friends and others, who have grown opulent upon the land which was their former inheritance.
Farmer’s Brother never yielded to the temptation of the fire-water. He lived and died a sober man. “He was a noble instance of a great and magnanimous mind. No one who looked upon him could imbibe feelings of disgust or hatred; and all who knew him well, felt esteem and veneration. He was never guilty of meanness, littleness, or intrigue; but was ever open, dignified, and fearless. He was a fine specimen of the Indian form, and trod the earth like a king, with the impress of integrity and honor upon his face as it was thoroughly stamped upon his character.”
“ ‘He was one of nature’s noblemen,——the front of Jove himself,An eye like Mars to threaten and command:A station like the herald Mercury.’ ”
“ ‘He was one of nature’s noblemen,
——the front of Jove himself,
An eye like Mars to threaten and command:
A station like the herald Mercury.’ ”
“None who saw him will fail to recollect his majestic mien and princely bearing, much less will they who have heard him in council, forget the power and deep-toned melody of his voice—his natural and impressive gestures, and the unaffected and commanding dignity of his manner. Unrivalled as a warrior, and only equalled by Red Jacket in eloquence, speaking in the verity of sober prose, it may be said that his was
“ ‘A combination and a form indeed,To give the world assurance of a man.’ ”
“ ‘A combination and a form indeed,
To give the world assurance of a man.’ ”
“His influence with his nation was very great; and his true glory, his open-heartedness, his fidelity to truth, and his generous magnanimity, secured for him the admiration and respect of every white person who had the[214]honor of his acquaintance. He was a firm friend where he promised fidelity, and a bitter enemy to those against whom he contended; and would lose the last drop of blood in his veins sooner than betray the cause he had espoused. He lived to be ninety years of age, dying in 1814, and continued a Pagan to the day of his death, as thoroughly opposed to Christianity and all the inroads of civilization as Red Jacket himself.”
[Contents]YOUNG-KING.The Indian names fall strangely, and sometimes harshly onears polite, and when belonging to persons of dignity, convey to us any thing but an idea of the true qualities of those who bore them. YetBig-Kettlewas a truly great and noble man; and every time I find myself in company with Indians, I am introduced to those whose names bring a smile to my lips in spite of all my attempts at gravity; like Mr. Silver-heels, Mr. Sun-down, and Mr. Tall-Chief. Young-King was a chief of the Seneca Nation, and one of whom the people were very proud on account of his bravery in war, his wisdom in council, and his mild, pacific character in social life. He was born at Canandaigua, which signifies in their language “The Chosen City,” and indicates far more to them than it does to us of beauty in scenery and location, and was to the Indian one of his most loved spots, among all the smiling valleys and fruitful fields which dotted their favorite hunting-grounds, on the borders of the lakes and rivers which stretch from the Hudson to Niagara, and from the St. Lawrence to the Ohio. Oh! the cruel desolation which swept them away!Young-King was one of those who fled before the American army under General Sullivan, who was sent to destroy their settlements in 1777. But he was only a[215]boy, being, as he thought, ten or twelve years of age—as his mother gave him a frying-pan to carry on their flying route to Canada, where they went to seek the protection of the British, in whose service their warriors had fought,“And in their cause bled nobly.”He was the son of “Old Smoke,” one of the most distinguished sachems of the Six Nations, and though not equal to his father, was the keeper of the council-fire, and ever won the respect of enemies and the love of friends.As I read over volumes of history in order to glean the truth from the great mass of details, I cannot help being struck with the different manner in which massacre and bloodshed are represented when Indians are spoken of, and when the same things are recorded of white men. The villages of Wyoming and Cherry Valley were devastated and destroyed by British and Indians, and the shocking story is repeated and dwelt upon as unparalleled in atrocity. The Indian is called a barbarian and bloodthirsty assassin—the personification of cruelty and revenge. But when it is recorded of the American army that “they were sent in every direction to overrun and lay waste Indian settlements, cut down their orchards, destroy their provisions and crops, kill their cattle and horses, and apply the besom of destruction to every thing that could give shelter or sustenance to man or beast;” and it is added, that “they meted out the full measure of destruction and desolation upon every settlement that came in their way, and actually destroyed forty Indian villages, one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn, vast quantities of beans and other vegetables, a great number of horses, and all farming utensils, and indeed[216]every thing that was the result of labor or the produce of cultivation; all this being the unmolested and unremitting employment of five thousand men for three weeks;” and to close their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the ancient metropolis of the Seneca Nation, which contained one hundred and twenty-eight houses—many being killed and many taken prisoners, and all obliged to flee—men, women, and children—through the wilderness, strewing the way with the dead and dying—it is called “gallant,” a “brilliant achievement,” a “glorious exploit!” That Indian mothers see their children murdered before their eyes, or starving, or wasting from sickness, is nothing to excite pity or call forth compassion. That the horses, and cows, and sheep of Indians are burnt, and all their pleasant fields laid waste, is matter of rejoicing. Their homes were far more dear to them than were the homes of those who had occupied them but for a few years; for they were living with the legends and sweet associations of centuries. They were deprived of their birthright. I have listened with horror as I have heard old men relate the tales of hunger, and sickness, and misery to which thousands were reduced by an act which gained for the victors immortal honors and not a single censure.The Indians were the allies of the English, and faithful to their plighted word. They fought according to their rules of warfare, and fought for their homes and their firesides, their wives and their children, and fought in vain. Theirs, too, were happy homes, where love and domestic virtue dwelt; and their freedom from envyings and jealousies, and strife and malice, might put many Christian homes to shame. Instead of wondering that they hated white people, I only wonder that the wounds they received should ever have healed—that they do not[217]rankle for ever, and produce utter detestation and unconquerable enmity to every thing with a pale skin.This has been the case with many, and made it almost impossible for the missionaries to convince them that a religion taught by such a people, could have in it any good thing. And only by living among them, andexemplifyingits principles by long and intimate intercourse, could induce them to listen to the Gospel messages.Young-King was one of the first among the Seneca chiefs to see the good influence of education and the Christian religion upon his people; and his influence was very great, standing as he did so high as a warrior and chief.Like too many, too, he partook of thefire-water, and for many years was a victim of the lowest intemperance. In a drunken brawl he lost an arm, and a finger from the remaining hand; but after he became a Christian, not a drop ever wet his lips. At one time, on a journey, he was thrown from his carriage, and badly injured. When the physician came, he was groaning upon the floor in a neighboring hut; but the whiskey-bottle stood upon the table, and was an irresistible temptation; he must drink before he could attend his patient. When Young-King observed it, he asked “What you drink?” The doctor answered, “Whiskey, and it will do you good; come, take a glass!” “No,” said the chief, “and you no bleed me, you no bleed me!” and though in the most intense suffering, he would not allow any thing to be done for him by a man who drank whiskey.He was the first man who built a rod of fence on the Buffalo Reservation, where the missionaries first resided; and often, in the cold winter days, would be seen on Saturday, crossing the creek in his little canoe, to see if the church were supplied with fuel for the Sabbath; and if it[218]were not, with his one hand wielded the axe, and chopped the little pile, which he also carried to the door, to be sure that it was ready for the morning service, saying, he came so late into the vineyard, he must work diligently in order to accomplish any thing before he was called away. He enjoyed very little direct instruction, and could not read; yet he seemed to understand clearly the history of redemption, and the nature of the atonement, as well as the intricate workings of the human heart.His manners were very refined and gentlemanly; and his deportment, at all times, that of one who had been well-bred and accustomed to cultivated circles; and the old-fashioned hospitality which characterizes his people, was kept up at his fireside; the poor were welcome, the hungry were fed, and the friendless made to feel that there was still in store for them sympathy and the kindness of cordial friendship.He early lost the wife of his youth, but in the wife of his old age he had a genuine helpmate, who participated in his desire to do good among his people, encouraged his hospitality, and set an example of prudence and dignity at the head of her household.They united with the little mission church on the same day, and reminded one of disciples at the feet of Jesus, when they listened to the words of the preacher, so childlike were their manners, and so trusting the expression of their countenances as they drank at the fountain of knowledge.The punishment of children in the schools often caused much trouble among parents, and Young-King proposed that there should be a committee appointed among the chiefs to visit the schools regularly, and encourage the teachers, by talking to the children of the necessity of obedience and order, and the importance of education;[219]proving in all times of trouble an able and faithful counsellor, and a support in every good cause.Wicked white men often tempted him, in order to overcome his temperance resolutions and lead him into sin; but he was always firm, and brought no dishonor, in any way, upon the cause which he had espoused.During the last war, he was on the side of the United States, and the remainder of his life received a pension of two hundred dollars a year, as compensation for his bravery, and a wound which he received in performance of his meritorious services.He died in 1835, and lies in the Mission Burial-Ground, about four miles from Buffalo, where are also most of the distinguished men and women of the nation who have died in the last half century. It is a consecrated spot indeed to the Indian and to the mission, for there are the lost and loved ones of their own little families, and the first fruits of their labors among a pagan people, who received Christian burial. It was once a fort, and the soldiers’ graveyard; and warriors of many nations, and Christian pilgrims, and little children, whom Jesus took in his arms and blessed, now mingle their dust beneath the same green mounds; and some of them will awake at the sound of the last trump on the resurrection morn, and enter together the New Jerusalem.[220]
YOUNG-KING.
The Indian names fall strangely, and sometimes harshly onears polite, and when belonging to persons of dignity, convey to us any thing but an idea of the true qualities of those who bore them. YetBig-Kettlewas a truly great and noble man; and every time I find myself in company with Indians, I am introduced to those whose names bring a smile to my lips in spite of all my attempts at gravity; like Mr. Silver-heels, Mr. Sun-down, and Mr. Tall-Chief. Young-King was a chief of the Seneca Nation, and one of whom the people were very proud on account of his bravery in war, his wisdom in council, and his mild, pacific character in social life. He was born at Canandaigua, which signifies in their language “The Chosen City,” and indicates far more to them than it does to us of beauty in scenery and location, and was to the Indian one of his most loved spots, among all the smiling valleys and fruitful fields which dotted their favorite hunting-grounds, on the borders of the lakes and rivers which stretch from the Hudson to Niagara, and from the St. Lawrence to the Ohio. Oh! the cruel desolation which swept them away!Young-King was one of those who fled before the American army under General Sullivan, who was sent to destroy their settlements in 1777. But he was only a[215]boy, being, as he thought, ten or twelve years of age—as his mother gave him a frying-pan to carry on their flying route to Canada, where they went to seek the protection of the British, in whose service their warriors had fought,“And in their cause bled nobly.”He was the son of “Old Smoke,” one of the most distinguished sachems of the Six Nations, and though not equal to his father, was the keeper of the council-fire, and ever won the respect of enemies and the love of friends.As I read over volumes of history in order to glean the truth from the great mass of details, I cannot help being struck with the different manner in which massacre and bloodshed are represented when Indians are spoken of, and when the same things are recorded of white men. The villages of Wyoming and Cherry Valley were devastated and destroyed by British and Indians, and the shocking story is repeated and dwelt upon as unparalleled in atrocity. The Indian is called a barbarian and bloodthirsty assassin—the personification of cruelty and revenge. But when it is recorded of the American army that “they were sent in every direction to overrun and lay waste Indian settlements, cut down their orchards, destroy their provisions and crops, kill their cattle and horses, and apply the besom of destruction to every thing that could give shelter or sustenance to man or beast;” and it is added, that “they meted out the full measure of destruction and desolation upon every settlement that came in their way, and actually destroyed forty Indian villages, one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn, vast quantities of beans and other vegetables, a great number of horses, and all farming utensils, and indeed[216]every thing that was the result of labor or the produce of cultivation; all this being the unmolested and unremitting employment of five thousand men for three weeks;” and to close their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the ancient metropolis of the Seneca Nation, which contained one hundred and twenty-eight houses—many being killed and many taken prisoners, and all obliged to flee—men, women, and children—through the wilderness, strewing the way with the dead and dying—it is called “gallant,” a “brilliant achievement,” a “glorious exploit!” That Indian mothers see their children murdered before their eyes, or starving, or wasting from sickness, is nothing to excite pity or call forth compassion. That the horses, and cows, and sheep of Indians are burnt, and all their pleasant fields laid waste, is matter of rejoicing. Their homes were far more dear to them than were the homes of those who had occupied them but for a few years; for they were living with the legends and sweet associations of centuries. They were deprived of their birthright. I have listened with horror as I have heard old men relate the tales of hunger, and sickness, and misery to which thousands were reduced by an act which gained for the victors immortal honors and not a single censure.The Indians were the allies of the English, and faithful to their plighted word. They fought according to their rules of warfare, and fought for their homes and their firesides, their wives and their children, and fought in vain. Theirs, too, were happy homes, where love and domestic virtue dwelt; and their freedom from envyings and jealousies, and strife and malice, might put many Christian homes to shame. Instead of wondering that they hated white people, I only wonder that the wounds they received should ever have healed—that they do not[217]rankle for ever, and produce utter detestation and unconquerable enmity to every thing with a pale skin.This has been the case with many, and made it almost impossible for the missionaries to convince them that a religion taught by such a people, could have in it any good thing. And only by living among them, andexemplifyingits principles by long and intimate intercourse, could induce them to listen to the Gospel messages.Young-King was one of the first among the Seneca chiefs to see the good influence of education and the Christian religion upon his people; and his influence was very great, standing as he did so high as a warrior and chief.Like too many, too, he partook of thefire-water, and for many years was a victim of the lowest intemperance. In a drunken brawl he lost an arm, and a finger from the remaining hand; but after he became a Christian, not a drop ever wet his lips. At one time, on a journey, he was thrown from his carriage, and badly injured. When the physician came, he was groaning upon the floor in a neighboring hut; but the whiskey-bottle stood upon the table, and was an irresistible temptation; he must drink before he could attend his patient. When Young-King observed it, he asked “What you drink?” The doctor answered, “Whiskey, and it will do you good; come, take a glass!” “No,” said the chief, “and you no bleed me, you no bleed me!” and though in the most intense suffering, he would not allow any thing to be done for him by a man who drank whiskey.He was the first man who built a rod of fence on the Buffalo Reservation, where the missionaries first resided; and often, in the cold winter days, would be seen on Saturday, crossing the creek in his little canoe, to see if the church were supplied with fuel for the Sabbath; and if it[218]were not, with his one hand wielded the axe, and chopped the little pile, which he also carried to the door, to be sure that it was ready for the morning service, saying, he came so late into the vineyard, he must work diligently in order to accomplish any thing before he was called away. He enjoyed very little direct instruction, and could not read; yet he seemed to understand clearly the history of redemption, and the nature of the atonement, as well as the intricate workings of the human heart.His manners were very refined and gentlemanly; and his deportment, at all times, that of one who had been well-bred and accustomed to cultivated circles; and the old-fashioned hospitality which characterizes his people, was kept up at his fireside; the poor were welcome, the hungry were fed, and the friendless made to feel that there was still in store for them sympathy and the kindness of cordial friendship.He early lost the wife of his youth, but in the wife of his old age he had a genuine helpmate, who participated in his desire to do good among his people, encouraged his hospitality, and set an example of prudence and dignity at the head of her household.They united with the little mission church on the same day, and reminded one of disciples at the feet of Jesus, when they listened to the words of the preacher, so childlike were their manners, and so trusting the expression of their countenances as they drank at the fountain of knowledge.The punishment of children in the schools often caused much trouble among parents, and Young-King proposed that there should be a committee appointed among the chiefs to visit the schools regularly, and encourage the teachers, by talking to the children of the necessity of obedience and order, and the importance of education;[219]proving in all times of trouble an able and faithful counsellor, and a support in every good cause.Wicked white men often tempted him, in order to overcome his temperance resolutions and lead him into sin; but he was always firm, and brought no dishonor, in any way, upon the cause which he had espoused.During the last war, he was on the side of the United States, and the remainder of his life received a pension of two hundred dollars a year, as compensation for his bravery, and a wound which he received in performance of his meritorious services.He died in 1835, and lies in the Mission Burial-Ground, about four miles from Buffalo, where are also most of the distinguished men and women of the nation who have died in the last half century. It is a consecrated spot indeed to the Indian and to the mission, for there are the lost and loved ones of their own little families, and the first fruits of their labors among a pagan people, who received Christian burial. It was once a fort, and the soldiers’ graveyard; and warriors of many nations, and Christian pilgrims, and little children, whom Jesus took in his arms and blessed, now mingle their dust beneath the same green mounds; and some of them will awake at the sound of the last trump on the resurrection morn, and enter together the New Jerusalem.[220]
The Indian names fall strangely, and sometimes harshly onears polite, and when belonging to persons of dignity, convey to us any thing but an idea of the true qualities of those who bore them. YetBig-Kettlewas a truly great and noble man; and every time I find myself in company with Indians, I am introduced to those whose names bring a smile to my lips in spite of all my attempts at gravity; like Mr. Silver-heels, Mr. Sun-down, and Mr. Tall-Chief. Young-King was a chief of the Seneca Nation, and one of whom the people were very proud on account of his bravery in war, his wisdom in council, and his mild, pacific character in social life. He was born at Canandaigua, which signifies in their language “The Chosen City,” and indicates far more to them than it does to us of beauty in scenery and location, and was to the Indian one of his most loved spots, among all the smiling valleys and fruitful fields which dotted their favorite hunting-grounds, on the borders of the lakes and rivers which stretch from the Hudson to Niagara, and from the St. Lawrence to the Ohio. Oh! the cruel desolation which swept them away!
Young-King was one of those who fled before the American army under General Sullivan, who was sent to destroy their settlements in 1777. But he was only a[215]boy, being, as he thought, ten or twelve years of age—as his mother gave him a frying-pan to carry on their flying route to Canada, where they went to seek the protection of the British, in whose service their warriors had fought,
“And in their cause bled nobly.”
“And in their cause bled nobly.”
He was the son of “Old Smoke,” one of the most distinguished sachems of the Six Nations, and though not equal to his father, was the keeper of the council-fire, and ever won the respect of enemies and the love of friends.
As I read over volumes of history in order to glean the truth from the great mass of details, I cannot help being struck with the different manner in which massacre and bloodshed are represented when Indians are spoken of, and when the same things are recorded of white men. The villages of Wyoming and Cherry Valley were devastated and destroyed by British and Indians, and the shocking story is repeated and dwelt upon as unparalleled in atrocity. The Indian is called a barbarian and bloodthirsty assassin—the personification of cruelty and revenge. But when it is recorded of the American army that “they were sent in every direction to overrun and lay waste Indian settlements, cut down their orchards, destroy their provisions and crops, kill their cattle and horses, and apply the besom of destruction to every thing that could give shelter or sustenance to man or beast;” and it is added, that “they meted out the full measure of destruction and desolation upon every settlement that came in their way, and actually destroyed forty Indian villages, one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn, vast quantities of beans and other vegetables, a great number of horses, and all farming utensils, and indeed[216]every thing that was the result of labor or the produce of cultivation; all this being the unmolested and unremitting employment of five thousand men for three weeks;” and to close their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the ancient metropolis of the Seneca Nation, which contained one hundred and twenty-eight houses—many being killed and many taken prisoners, and all obliged to flee—men, women, and children—through the wilderness, strewing the way with the dead and dying—it is called “gallant,” a “brilliant achievement,” a “glorious exploit!” That Indian mothers see their children murdered before their eyes, or starving, or wasting from sickness, is nothing to excite pity or call forth compassion. That the horses, and cows, and sheep of Indians are burnt, and all their pleasant fields laid waste, is matter of rejoicing. Their homes were far more dear to them than were the homes of those who had occupied them but for a few years; for they were living with the legends and sweet associations of centuries. They were deprived of their birthright. I have listened with horror as I have heard old men relate the tales of hunger, and sickness, and misery to which thousands were reduced by an act which gained for the victors immortal honors and not a single censure.
The Indians were the allies of the English, and faithful to their plighted word. They fought according to their rules of warfare, and fought for their homes and their firesides, their wives and their children, and fought in vain. Theirs, too, were happy homes, where love and domestic virtue dwelt; and their freedom from envyings and jealousies, and strife and malice, might put many Christian homes to shame. Instead of wondering that they hated white people, I only wonder that the wounds they received should ever have healed—that they do not[217]rankle for ever, and produce utter detestation and unconquerable enmity to every thing with a pale skin.
This has been the case with many, and made it almost impossible for the missionaries to convince them that a religion taught by such a people, could have in it any good thing. And only by living among them, andexemplifyingits principles by long and intimate intercourse, could induce them to listen to the Gospel messages.
Young-King was one of the first among the Seneca chiefs to see the good influence of education and the Christian religion upon his people; and his influence was very great, standing as he did so high as a warrior and chief.
Like too many, too, he partook of thefire-water, and for many years was a victim of the lowest intemperance. In a drunken brawl he lost an arm, and a finger from the remaining hand; but after he became a Christian, not a drop ever wet his lips. At one time, on a journey, he was thrown from his carriage, and badly injured. When the physician came, he was groaning upon the floor in a neighboring hut; but the whiskey-bottle stood upon the table, and was an irresistible temptation; he must drink before he could attend his patient. When Young-King observed it, he asked “What you drink?” The doctor answered, “Whiskey, and it will do you good; come, take a glass!” “No,” said the chief, “and you no bleed me, you no bleed me!” and though in the most intense suffering, he would not allow any thing to be done for him by a man who drank whiskey.
He was the first man who built a rod of fence on the Buffalo Reservation, where the missionaries first resided; and often, in the cold winter days, would be seen on Saturday, crossing the creek in his little canoe, to see if the church were supplied with fuel for the Sabbath; and if it[218]were not, with his one hand wielded the axe, and chopped the little pile, which he also carried to the door, to be sure that it was ready for the morning service, saying, he came so late into the vineyard, he must work diligently in order to accomplish any thing before he was called away. He enjoyed very little direct instruction, and could not read; yet he seemed to understand clearly the history of redemption, and the nature of the atonement, as well as the intricate workings of the human heart.
His manners were very refined and gentlemanly; and his deportment, at all times, that of one who had been well-bred and accustomed to cultivated circles; and the old-fashioned hospitality which characterizes his people, was kept up at his fireside; the poor were welcome, the hungry were fed, and the friendless made to feel that there was still in store for them sympathy and the kindness of cordial friendship.
He early lost the wife of his youth, but in the wife of his old age he had a genuine helpmate, who participated in his desire to do good among his people, encouraged his hospitality, and set an example of prudence and dignity at the head of her household.
They united with the little mission church on the same day, and reminded one of disciples at the feet of Jesus, when they listened to the words of the preacher, so childlike were their manners, and so trusting the expression of their countenances as they drank at the fountain of knowledge.
The punishment of children in the schools often caused much trouble among parents, and Young-King proposed that there should be a committee appointed among the chiefs to visit the schools regularly, and encourage the teachers, by talking to the children of the necessity of obedience and order, and the importance of education;[219]proving in all times of trouble an able and faithful counsellor, and a support in every good cause.
Wicked white men often tempted him, in order to overcome his temperance resolutions and lead him into sin; but he was always firm, and brought no dishonor, in any way, upon the cause which he had espoused.
During the last war, he was on the side of the United States, and the remainder of his life received a pension of two hundred dollars a year, as compensation for his bravery, and a wound which he received in performance of his meritorious services.
He died in 1835, and lies in the Mission Burial-Ground, about four miles from Buffalo, where are also most of the distinguished men and women of the nation who have died in the last half century. It is a consecrated spot indeed to the Indian and to the mission, for there are the lost and loved ones of their own little families, and the first fruits of their labors among a pagan people, who received Christian burial. It was once a fort, and the soldiers’ graveyard; and warriors of many nations, and Christian pilgrims, and little children, whom Jesus took in his arms and blessed, now mingle their dust beneath the same green mounds; and some of them will awake at the sound of the last trump on the resurrection morn, and enter together the New Jerusalem.[220]