Anna C. Johnson

“ In all this there is not so much of poetry or beauty or purity as dwelt in the bosom of those who kindled the mysterious council fire in the heart of the forest, to burn for ever as a symbol of the love and patriotism which glowed in the bosoms of those who rallied around it, and called themselves the UNITED PEOPLE.
The nymphs and naiads of the woods of Greece and Italy are the embellishments of every classic song, but [64] they are no more beautiful than the guardian-spirits of every tree and leaf and flower with which the imagination of the Indian peopled our own forest wilds. ”

“ It is not so musical as rich, and falls on the ear like the deep voice of the cataract, rather than the low murmuring rill. But those who think the Indian has no vein of humor and no love of pleasantry, should listen to him when he is surrounded only by his kindred—those who can appreciate him, and whom he can trust. Solemnity, enthusiasm, and mirthfulness, play alternately upon the features of the assembly, but there is in him so great a regard for decorum, that nothing like levity or untimely restlessness ever disturbs an Indian audience. ”

“ You are now my prisoner, and subject to the customs of Indian warfare. But you shall not be harmed—you need not fear. I am a warrior! Many are the scalps I have taken! many prisoners I have tortured to death! I am your son! I was anxious to see you, and greet you in friendship. I went to your cabin and took you by force. But your life shall be spared. Indians love their friends and their kindred, and treat them with kindness. If now you choose to follow the fortunes of your red son, and to live with our people, I will cherish your old age with plenty of venison, and you shall live easy. ”

“ Did he not previously prove that the land of Gano-no-o, or the Empire State as you love to call it, was once laced by our trails from Albany to Buffalo—trails that we had trod for centuries—trails worn so deep by the feet of the Iroquois that they became your own roads of travel as your possessions gradually eat into those of my people? Your roads still traverse those same lines of communication and bind one part of the long house to another. The land of Gano-no-o—the Empire State—then is our monument! and we wish its soil to rest above our bones when we shall be no more. ”

“ There is no danger of painting Indians, so that they will become attractive to civilized people; and there is no need of painting them more hideously than they paint themselves.
There is a bright and pleasing side to Indian character; and thinking that there has been enough written of their wars and their cruelties, of the hunter’s and the fisherman’s life, I have sat down by their firesides, and listened to their legends, and tried to become acquainted with their domestic habits, and to understand their finer feelings, and the truly noble traits of their character. ”

“ The history of Treaties is by far the darkest of all the pages of Indian history. War and bloodshed are terrible,—terrible indeed; the stories of massacres chill the blood in our veins; and the bitter strife of war is revolting to all the finer feelings of our nature. But there has been a far more bitter strife of treaties, at which the heart bleeds, and the spirit moans. ”

“ The Great Spirit has provided abundance. When we are hungry, we find the forest filled with game; when thirsty, we slake our thirst at the pure streams and springs that spread around us; when weary, the leaves of the trees are our bed—we retire with contentment to rest—we rise with gratitude to the great Preserver. No luxuries, no vices, no disputed titles, no avaricious desires shake the foundations of our society, or disturb our peace and happiness. ”

“ 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. ”

“ The next day every warrior returns with a scalp, the trophy of his valor, and the youth, to whose wisdom in council they owe the victory, assembles all the people and announces that his mission is fulfilled. He is about to leave the earth. He has repeated to them his father’s instructions. They have learned all the arts of war, and know how to take the scalps of their enemies. He has taught them the song and the dance, and bids them forget not to die like warriors, in battle or at the stake. ”

“ This was the last interview between the two chiefs of a widely different people, both richly endowed by nature, to be so variously favored by fortune. Washington lived but a little while longer, and went down to the grave amid the lamentations of a nation, with a name on which has been bestowed the homage of a world; and Cornplanter retired to his secluded cabin in the forest, to live forty years, devoted to humble efforts for the elevation of his people; to die alone, with a name which has been almost forgotten. ”

“ Christian nations might with equal justice be always represented with cannon and balls and swords and pistols, as the emblems of their employments and their prevailing tastes.
The details of wars form far too great a portion of every history of civilized and barbarous nations; to conquer and to slay has been too long the glory of Christian people; he who has been most successful in subjugating and oppressing, in mowing down human beings, has too long worn the laurel crown,—been too long an object for the admiration of men and the love of woman. ”

“ They will fear your ridicule, and suppress their humor and their pathos; and so thoroughly have they learned to distrust pale faces, that when they know that he who is present is a friend, they will still shrink from admitting him within the secret portals of their souls.
And when you have learned all that language can convey, there are still a thousand images, suggestions and associations recurring to the Indian, which can strike no chord in your heart. The myriad voices of nature are dumb to you, but to him they are full of life and power. ”

“ The aged woman sat pillowed up in bed with her children and children’s children of three generations around her, and lifting her withered hands and sunken eyes to heaven, once more repeated, “Our Father, who art in heaven,” while a new light, like a halo, overspread her face, tears flowed in floods down her cheeks, and in the dark eye of every listener there glistened the tear of sympathy in her new-found happiness.
For many years she remembered her mother’s injunction, and repeated the words of the prayer and the catechism ”

“ It may be easily imagined that a people who so loved their homes and revered their fathers’ graves, would become fierce with indignation and rage, on seeing themselves treated as without human feeling and the sacred relics of the dead ploughed up and scattered as indifferently as the stones, or the bones of the moose and the deer of the forest. It was this feeling which often prompted them to acts of hostility, which those who experienced them ascribed to wanton cruelty and barbarity. ”

“ CHAPTER XV. THE FUTURE OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN.
Every historian and prophet who has preceded me, has reiterated the prediction that “the doom of the Indian is extinction!” I shall not contradict it; but I fearlessly say, this ought not so to be. Is it not a libel upon Christianity, that it is not fitted for all the people of the earth? Is it not a libel upon Him, “who made of one blood all nations;” who made the heavens and the earth; that He contemplated the happiness of only one portion, and instituted a system of religion fitted only for a few? ”

“ But when the Indian, with far more to lose, and infinitely greater provocation, sits upon the green mound, beneath the canopy of heaven, and refuses to ask mercy of civilized fiends, he is stigmatized as dogged, spiritless, and sullen.” “What a different name has greatness, clothed in the garb of Christian princes and sitting beneath spacious domes, gorgeous with man’s devices; and greatness, in the simple garb of nature, destitute, and alone in the wilderness!” ”

“ Father:—We will not conceal from you that the Great God, and not man, has preserved the Cornplanter from the hands of his own nation. For they ask continually, ‘Where is the land which our children and their children after them, are to lie down upon?’ He is silent, for he has nothing to answer. When the sun goes down he opens his heart before God, and earlier than the sun appears upon the hills, he gives thanks for his protection during the night; for he feels that among men, become desperate by their danger, it is God only who can preserve them. ”

“ Five winters in hunting we’ll spend,
While mourning our warriors slain,
Till our youth grown to men
For the battle path trained,
Our days like our father’s we’ll end.
Ye are dead noble men! ye are gone
My brother—my fellow—my friend!——
On the death path where brave men must go;
But we live to revenge you! we haste
To die as our forefathers died. ”

“ 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. ”

“ There is not the variety among Indian beauties that exists among white people. We have all shades, from the lightest blonde to the darkest brunette; but the shade is nearly the same upon every forest maiden’s face. The hair is raven black, the cheeks are full, and the eye like jet. But there is still opportunity for Nature to show her skill; though there may be few so splendidly beautiful as Feather Cloud, there are few who may not be called comely; and I have seen many who might vie with the blondes and brunettes of any drawing-room. ”