Western Characters

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by McConnel, John Ludlum


  There have been some tribes of Indians in a measure reclaimed from their state of barbarism; the Cherokees, I believe, (and perhaps one or two other nations,) have even increased in numbers, under the influence of civilization. But this is the result of numerous favorable causes combined, and proves nothing, from which to infer the Indian's docility. Other savages, on coming in contact with civilized men, have discovered a disposition to acquire some of the useful arts—their comforts have been increased, their sufferings diminished, and their condition ameliorated, by the grafting of new ideas upon the old. But, between the red man and the white, contiguity has brought about little more than an exchange of vices.

  Almost the only things coveted by the “redskin” from the “paleface,” were his arms, his trinkets, and his “firewater.” He could appreciate whatsoever gave him superiority in war, gratified his childish vanity, or ministered to his brutal appetite. But the greater comfort of the white man's house—the higher excellence of his boat—his improved agricultural implements or extended learning—none of these things appealed to the Indian's passions or desires. The arts of peace were nothing to him—refinement was worse than nothing. He would spend hours in decorating his person, but not a moment in cleansing it: I believe no tradition exists of an Indian ever having used soap or bought a fine-tooth comb! He is, indeed, a “pattern of filthiness;” but even in civilized life, we find that this is not at all incompatible with an extravagant love of ornament; and, in this respect, the savage is not behind his more enlightened brethren and sisters. Beads, ribands, and scarlet cloth—with powder and lead, guns, tomahawks, and knives—are the acquisitions which he prizes most highly.

  Pre-eminent, however, above all these in his estimation, is the greatest curse which has yet reached him—the liquid fire called whiskey! He is, by nature, a drunkard, and the fury of his intoxication equals the ferocity of his warfare. “All words would be thrown away,” says Mr. Flint,[45] “in attempting to portray, in just colors, the effects of whiskey upon such a race.” Fire should be kept away from combustibles—whiskey from the Indian, and for the same reason. With drunkenness, he possesses, also, its inseparable companion, the vice of gambling.[46] He is the most inveterate gamester: Before the demon of avarice everything gives way. He even forgets his taciturnity, in the excitement of the game, and becomes loquacious and eager. He will stake all his most valuable possessions, and, losing these, will even risk his own liberty, or life, on the turn of a card. We were once witness to a game in San Antonio (in Western Texas), among a party of Lipans,[47] a race of fine-looking men, who range the table-lands north of the sources of the Nueces. Two of them, one the handsomest warrior among them, lost, first, the money, which they had just received as the price of skins, brought to the city for sale. They then staked, successively, their horses, their arms, their moccasins, and their blankets. The “luck” was against them—everything was lost; and we supposed the game was over. But—as a last resource, like drawing blood from their beating hearts—each produced a little leathern bottle, containing whiskey! And, as if these possessed a higher value than all the articles yet lost, the game went on with increased interest! Even the potent “spirit” thus evoked, could not prevail upon Fortune to change her face: the whiskey was lost with the rest! Each rose to his feet, with the usual guttural exclamation, and, afoot, and unarmed as he was, silently took his way to the prairies; while the winners collected in a group, and with much glee, proceeded to consume the liquid poison so cheaply obtained.

  We come, finally to the question of the Indian's fate: What is to become of the race? The answer presents no difficulties, save such as grow out of men's unwillingness to look unpleasant truths in the face. There has been, of late years, much lamentation, among our own people, over the gradual extinction of these interesting savages; and in Europe we have been made the subject of indignant eloquence, for (what those, who know nothing about it, are pleased to call) “our oppression of the Indian.” But, in the first place, the decay of the American races is neither so rapid nor so universal, as is generally supposed;[48] and, in the second place, if the fact were otherwise, we could, at the worst, be charged only with accelerating a depopulation already begun. “The ten thousand mounds in the Mississippi Valley, the rude memorials of an immensely numerous former population, but, to our view, no more civilized than the present races, are proofs that the country was depopulated, when the white man first became acquainted with it. If we can infer nothing else from these mounds, we can clearly infer, that this country once had its millions.”[49] What had become of this immense population? The successive invasions of new hordes of barbarians from the north, intestine wars, and the law, that men shall advance toward civilization, or decay from the earth—these are the only causes to which we may ascribe their disappearance.

  The extinction of the Indian race is decreed, by a law of Providence which we can not gainsay. Barbarism must give way to civilization. It is not only inevitable, but right, that it should be so. The tide of empire, which has been flowing since the earliest times, has set steadily toward the West. The Indian emigrated in the wrong direction: and now, after the lapse of many centuries, the descendants of the first Asians, having girdled the globe, meet on the banks of the Mississippi! On the one side, are enlightenment, civilization, Christianity: on the other, darkness, degradation, barbarism: and the question arises, which shall give way? The Indian recedes: at the rate of seventeen miles a year,[50] the flood rolls on! Already it has reached the shores of the Pacific: One century will reduce the whole continent to the possession of the white man; and, then, the lesson which all history teaches, will be again taught—that two distinct races cannot exist in the same country on equal terms. The weaker must be incorporated with the stronger—or exterminated.[51]

  FOOTNOTES:

  [2] Vol. III., page 394.

  [3] There is, however, little necessity for any argument on the subject: For, leaving out of the question the highest and most sacred of authorities, almost all respectable writers upon ethnology, including Buffon, Volney, Humboldt, &c., agree in assigning a common origin to all nations,—though the last deduces from many particulars, the conclusion that the American Indian was “isolated in the infancy of the world, from the rest of mankind.”—Ancient Inhabitants of America, vol. i., p. 250.

  [4] It will be observed, that I assume the unity of the Indian race; and I am not sufficiently acquainted with the recent discussions on the subject, to be certain whether the question is still considered open. But the striking analogies between the customs, physical formation, and languages of all the various divisions, (except the Esquimaux, who are excluded), I think, authorize the assumption.

  [5] Conquest of Mexico, vol. iii., p. 416.

  [6] Conquest of Mexico, vol. iii., p. 417.

  [7] Essays—Art. 'Milton.'

  [8] Lectures on English Poets, p. 4.

  [9] No very high compliment, but as high as it deserves. We shall see anon.

  [10] Warburton's Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 177.

  [11] Bancroft's United States, vol. iii., p. 256.

  [12] Hunter's Memoirs, p. 236. Western Annals, p. 712.

  [13] Flint's Geography, p. 108.

  [14] “All ideas are expressed by figures addressed to the senses.” Warburton, vol. i., p. 175. Bancroft, ut supra.

  [15] See Bancroft, Hunter, Catlin, Flint, Jefferson, &c.—passim—all supporters of Indian eloquence, but all informing us, that “combinations of material objects were his only means of expressing abstract ideas.”

  [16] Vide Bancroft's United States, vol. iii., pp. 257, 266, etc.

  [17] E. G. “They style themselves the 'beloved of the Great Spirit.'”—Warburton, vol. i., p. 186. “In the Iroquois language, the Indians gave themselves the appellation of 'Angoueonoue', or 'Men of Always.'”—Chateaubriand's Travels in America, vol. ii., p. 92. Note, also, their exaggerated boastfulness, even in their best speeches: “Logan never knew fear,” &c.

  [18] “The ab
sence of all reflective consciousness, and of all logical analysis of ideas, is the great peculiarity of American speech.”—Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 257.

  [19] Warburton's Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 180.

  [20] I have seen it hinted, though I have forgotten where, that Jefferson, and not Logan, was the author of this speech; but the extravagant manner in which Jefferson himself praises it, seems to exclude the suspicion. “I may challenge the whole orations of Demosthenes and Cicero,” he says, “and of any other more eminent orator, if Europe has furnished more eminent, to produce a single passage superior to the speech of Logan!” Praise certainly quite high enough, for a mixture of lamentation and boastfulness.

  [21] The evidence in this matter has long ago been thoroughly sifted; and it is now certain that, so far from being present aiding at the massacre of Logan's family, Colonel Cresap earnestly endeavored to dissuade the party from its purpose. And yet the falsehood is perpetuated even in the common school-books of the country, while its object has been mouldering in his grave for a quarter of a century.—Western Annals, p. 147. American Pioneer, vol. i., p. 7, et seq.

  [22] Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 254.

  [23] Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 285.—“The God of the savage was what the metaphysician endeavors to express by the word substance.” But the Indian's idea of substance was altogether concrete.

  [24] The best authority upon this subject is found in the Jesuit “Relaciones:” but it is at least probable, that the preconceptions of the good Fathers colored, and, perhaps, shaped, many of the religious wonders there related.

  [25] “Lettres Edifiantes,” vol. vi., p. 200, et seq. Warburton, vol. i., p. 187.

  [26] The extravagant stories told of the Natchez Indians (among whom there was said to be a remarkable temple for worship) are quite incredible, even if they had not been disproved.

  [27] When the manitou of the Indian has failed to give him success in the chase, or protection from danger, “he upbraids it with bitterness and contempt, and threatens to seek a more effectual protector. If the manitou continues useless, this threat is fulfilled.” Warb. ut supra. Vide, also, Catlin's “American Indians,” vol. i., p. 36, et seq.

  [28] Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 258.

  [29] “He calls it [the soul] the shadow or image of his body, but its acts and enjoyments are all the same as those of its earthly existence. He only pictures to himself a continuation of present pleasures.” Warb. vol. i., p. 190. Vide, also, Catlin's “American Indians,” vol. i., p. 158, et seq.

  [30] The Indian never believed in the resurrection of the body; but even corn and venison were supposed to possess a spirit, which the spirit of the dead warrior might eat.—Jesuit “Relacion,” 1633, p. 54.

  [31] “The idea of retribution,” says Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 299, “as far as it has found its way among them, was derived from Europeans.” And the same remark may be made, of most of the other wonders, in which enthusiastic travellers have discovered coincidences with Christianity.

  [32] James's “Expedition,” vol. i., p. 237.—Catlin's “American Indians,” vol. i., pp. 216-'18. The latter is a zealous apologist for Indian cruelties and barbarisms.

  [33] “Conquest of Canada,” vol. i., pp. 194-'5.

  [34] The following may serve to indicate the sort of impression of Christianity which even the most earnest and enlightened preaching has been able to make upon the Indian mind: “Here I saw a most singular union; one of the [Indian] graves was surmounted by a cross, while close to it a trunk of a tree was raised, covered with hieroglyphics, recording the number of enemies slain by the tenant of the tomb. Here presenting a hint to those who are fond of system-making on the religion of these people,” &c.—Beltrami's Pilgrimage, &c., vol. ii., p. 307. Bancroft's United States, vol. iii., pp. 303-'4. Flint's Geography, pp. 109, 126.

  [35] Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 281.

  [36] “To inflict blows that can not be returned,” says this historian (Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 282), “is a proof of full success, and the entire humiliation of the enemy. It is, moreover, an experiment of courage and patience.” But we think such things as much mere brutality, as triumph.

  [37] The frequent change of tense in this article, refers to those circumstances in which the present differs from the past character of the Indian.

  [38] “It is to be doubted, whether some part of this vaunted stoicism be not the result of a more than ordinary degree of physical insensibility.”—Flint's Geography, vol. i., p. 114.

  [39] Many white men, however, have endured the utmost extremities of Indian cruelty. See cases of Brebeuf, and Lallemand, in Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 140.

  [40] “It is intellectual culture which contributes most to diversify the features.”—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. iii., p. 228.

  [41] “They have probably as much curiosity [as the white], but a more stern perseverance in repressing it.”—Flint's Geography, vol. i., p. 124.

  [42] “The enemy is assailed with treachery, and, if conquered, treated with revolting cruelty.” * * “A fiendish ferocity assumes full sway.”—Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 206.

  [43] It is perhaps not very remarkable, however, that the women are most cruel to the aged and infirm—the young and vigorous being sometimes adopted by them, to console them for the loss of those who have fallen.—Idem, p. 210.

  [44] “We consider them a treacherous people, easily swayed from their purpose, paying their court to the divinity of good fortune, and always ready to side with the strongest. We should not rely upon their feelings of to-day, as any pledge for what they will be to-morrow.”—Flint's Geography, vol. i., p. 120.

  [45] “Geography of the Mississippi Valley,” vol. i., p. 121.

  [46] “The Indians are immoderately fond of play.”—Warburton, vol. i., p. 218.

  [47] These used cards; but they have, among themselves, numerous games of chance, older than the discovery of the continent.

  [48] “The Cherokee and Mobilian families of nations are more numerous now than ever.”—Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 253. In speaking of this declamation about the extinction of the race, Mr. Flint very pertinently remarks: “One would think it had been discovered, that the population, the improvements, and the social happiness of our great political edifice, ought never to have been erected in the place of these habitations of cruelty.”—Geography, vol. i., p. 107.

  [49] Idem.

  [50] This is De Tocqueville's estimate.—Democracy in America, vol. ii., chap. 10.

  [51] “We may as well endeavor to make the setting sun stand still on the summit of the Rocky Mountains, as attempt to arrest the final extermination of the Indian race!”—Merivale on Colonization—Lecture 19.

  The principle stated in the text will apply with equal force to the negro-race; and those who will look the facts firmly in the face, can not avoid seeing, that the ultimate solution of the problem of American Slavery, can be nothing but the sword.

  * * *

  II.

  Top

  THE VOYAGEUR.

  “Spread out earth's holiest records here,

  Of days and deeds to reverence dear:

  A zeal like this, what pious legends tell?”

  The shapeless knight-errantry of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, rich as it was in romance and adventure, is not to be compared, in any valuable characteristic, to the noiseless self-devotion of the men who first explored the Western country. The courage of the knight was a part of his savage nature; his confidence was in the strength of his own right arm; and if his ruggedness was ever softened down by gentler thoughts, it was only when he asked forgiveness for his crimes, or melted in sensual idolatry of female beauty.

  It would be a curious and instructive inquiry, could we institute it with success, how much of the contempt of danger manifested by the wandering knight was referable to genuine valor, and what proportion to the strength of a Milan coat, and the temper of a Toledo or Ferrara blade. And it would be still more curious, although perhaps not
so instructive, to estimate the purity and fidelity of the heroines of chivalry; to ascertain the amount of true devotion given them by their admirers, “without hope of reward.”

  But without abating its interest by invidious and ungrateful inquiries, we can see quite enough—in its turbulence, its cruelty, arrogance, and oppression—to make us thank Heaven that “the days of chivalry are gone.” And from that chaotic scene of rapine, raid, and murder, we can turn with pleasure to contemplate the truer, nobler chivalry—the chivalry of love and peace, whose weapons were the kindness of their hearts, the purity of their motives, and the self-denial of their lives.

  The term “voyageur”[52] literally signifies “traveller;” and by this modest name are indicated some of the bravest adventurers the world has ever seen. But it is not in its usual, common-place signification that I employ the word, nor yet in that which is given it by most writers on the subject of early French settlements and explorations. Men are often affected by the names given them, either of opprobrium or commendation; but words are quite as frequently changed, restricted, or enlarged in meaning, by their application to men. For example: you apply the word soldier to a class of men; and if robbery be one of the characteristics of that class, “soldier” will soon come to mean “robber” too. And thus, though the parallel is only logical, has it been with the term “voyageur.” The class of men to whom it is applied were travellers—voyageurs; but they were more; and as the habits and qualities of men came in time to be better understood than the meaning of French words, the term, used in reference to Western history, took much of its significance from the history and character of the men it assumed to describe. Thus, un voyageur means not only a traveller, but a traveller with a purpose; an adventurer among the Western wilds; a chivalrous missionary, either in the cause of science or religion. It includes high courage, burning zeal for church and country, and the most generous self-devotion. It describes such men as Marquette, La Salle, Joliet, Gravier, and hundreds of others equally illustrious, who lived and died among the dangers and privations of the wilderness; who opened the way for civilization and Christianity among the savages, and won, many of them, crowns of martyrdom.

 

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