AN ADDRESS READ BEFORE THE CHIPPEWA COUNTY TEMPERANCE SOCIETY, AT SAULT STE-MARIE, MAY 8th, 1832.
The effects of intemperance on the character of nations and individuals have been often depicted, within a few years, in faithful colors, and by gifted minds. “Thoughts that breathe and words that burn” were once supposed to be confined, exclusively, to give melody to the lyre, and life to the canvass. But the conceptions of modern benevolence have dispelled the illusion, and taught us that genius has no higher objects than the promotion of the greatest amount of good to man—that these objects come home to the “business and bosoms” of men in their every day avocations—that they lie level to every capacity, and never assume so exalted a character, as when they are directed to increase the sum of domestic happiness and fireside enjoyment—
It is this consideration that gives to the temperance effort in our day, a refined and expansive character—
which has enlisted in its cause sound heads and glowing hearts, in all parts of our country—which is daily augmenting the sphere of its influence, and which has already carried its precepts and examples from the little sea-board village,[36] where it originated, to the foot of Lake Superior. And I have now the pleasure of seeing before me a society, assembled on their first public meeting, who have “banded together,” not with such mistaken zeal as dictated the killing of Paul, or assassinating Cæsar, but for giving their aid in staying the tide of intemperance which has been rolling westward for more than three centuries, sweeping away thousands of white and red men in its course—which has grown with the growth of the nation, and strengthened with its strength, and which threatens with an overwhelming moral desolation all who do not adopt the rigid maxim—
The British critic of the last century little thought, while moralizing upon some of the weaknesses of individual genius, that he was uttering maxims which would encourage the exertions of voluntary associations of men to put a stop to intemperance. It was as true then as now, that “in the bottle, discontent seeks for comfort, cowardice for courage, and bashfulness for confidence.” It was as true then, as now, that the “negligence and irregularity” which are the fruits of this habit, ”if long continued, will render knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius contemptible.” “Who,” he exclaims, “that ever asked succors from Bacchus, was able to preserve himself from being enslaved by his auxiliary?”[37] And is there a species of servitude more pernicious in its influence, more degrading in its character, more destructive of all physical and intellectual power, than the slavery of inebriation? The rage of the conflagration—the devastation of the flood—the fury of the tempest, are emblematic of the moral fury of the mind under the influence of alcohol. It is equally ungovernable in its power, and destructive in its effects. But its devastations are more to be deplored, because they are the devastations of human faculties—of intellectual power—of animal energy—of moral dignity—of social happiness—of temporal health—of eternal felicity.
Intemperance is emphatically the parent of disease, mental and physical. Its direct effects are to blunt the faculty of correct thinking, and to paralyze the power of vigorous action. Nothing more effectually takes away from the human mind, its ordinary practical powers of discrimination and decision, without which man is like a leaf upon the tempest, or the chaff before the wind. Dr. Darwin has aptly compared the effects of spirituous liquors upon the lungs to the ancient fable of Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, who was punished for the theft by a vulture gnawing on the liver.[38] A striking allegory: but one which is not inaptly applied to characterize the painful and acute diseases which are visited upon the inebriate. Dr. Rush was an early advocate of the cause. He likened the effects of the various degrees of alcohol, in spirituous drinks, to the artificial mensuration of heat by the thermometer, and took a decided stand in pointing out its poisonous effects upon the system, in the generation of a numerous class of diseases, acute and chronic.
If unhealthy food had been the cause of such disorders, the article would be rigidly shunned. No man would choose to eat twice of the cicuta; to use bread having a portion of lime in it; or to drink frequently of a preparation of sugar of lead. Even the intemperate would fear to drink of alcohol, in its state of chemical purity, for its effects would certainly be to arrest the functions of life. Yet he will drink of this powerful drug, if diluted with acids, saccharine and coloring matter, water and various impurities, under the disguised names of wine, brandy, rum, malt liquors, whisky, cordials, and mixed potations, which all tend to pamper the natural depravity of the human heart, and poison its powers of healthful action.
Alcohol is one of the preparations which were brought to light in the age of the Alchemysts—when the human mind had run mad in a philosophic research after two substances which were not found in nature—the philosopher's stone, and the universal panacea. One, it was believed, was to transmute all substances it touched into gold, and the other, to cure all diseases. The two great desires of the world—wealth and long life, were thus to be secured in a way which Moses and the Prophets had never declared. A degree of patient ascetic research was devoted to the investigation of natural phenomena, which the world had not before witnessed; and modern science is indebted to the mistaken labors of this race of chemical monks, for many valuable discoveries, which were, for the most part, stumbled on. So far as relates to the discovery of the alcoholic principle of grains, a singular reversal of their high anticipations has ensued. They sought for a substance to enrich mankind, but found a substance to impoverish them: they sought a power to cure all diseases, but they found one to cause them. Alcohol is thus invested with great talismanic power: and this power is not to create, but to destroy—not to elevate, but to prostrate—not to impart life, but death.
How extensive its uses are, as a re-agent and solvent, in medicine and the arts—or if its place could be supplied, in any instances, by other substances—are questions to be answered by physicians and chemists. But admitting, what is probable to my own mind, that its properties and uses in pharmacy and the arts are indispensable in several operations, in the present state of our knowledge—does this furnish a just plea for its ordinary use, as a beverage, in a state of health? No more than it would, that because the lancet and the probe are useful in a state of disease, they should be continued in a state of health. And do not every class of men who continue the use of ardent spirits, waste their blood by a diurnal exhaustion of its strength and healthy properties, more injurious than a daily depletion; and probe their flesh with a fluid too subtle for the physician to extract?
The transition from temperate to intemperate drinking, is very easy. And those who advocate the moderate use of distilled spirits are indeed the real advocates of intemperance. No man ever existed, perhaps, who thought himself in danger of being enslaved by a practice, which he, at first, indulged in moderation. A habit of relying upon it is imperceptibly formed. Nature is soon led to expect the adventitious aid, as a hale man, accustomed to wear a staff, may imagine he cannot do without it, until he has thrown it aside. If it communicates a partial energy, it is the energy of a convulsion. Its joy is a phrenzy. Its hope is a phantom. And all its exhibitions of changing passion, so many melancholy proofs of
Angelic beings are probably exalted above all human weaknesses.—But if there be anything in their survey of our actions which causes them to weep, it is the sight of a drunken father in the domestic circle.
Instructed reason, and sound piety, have united their voices in decrying the evils of intemperance. Physicians have described its effects in deranging the absorbent vessels of the stomach, and changing the healthy organization of the system. Moralists have portrayed its fatal influence on the intellectual faculties. Divines have pointed out its destructive powers on the soul. Poetry, philosophy and science, have mourned the numbers who have been cut down by it. Common sense has raised up its voice against it. It is indeed—
Like the genie of Arabic fable, it has risen up, where it was least expected, and stalked through the most secret and the most public apartments. And wherever it has appeared, it has prostrated the human mind. It has silenced the voice of eloquence in the halls of justice and legislation. It has absorbed the brain of the scientific lecturer. It has caused the sword to drop from the hand of the military leader. It has stupefied the author in his study, and the pastor in his desk. It has made the wife a widow in her youth, and caused the innocent child to weep upon a father's grave. We dare not look beyond it. Hope, who has attended the victim of intemperance through all the changes of his downward fortune, and not forsaken him in any other exigency, has forsaken here. Earth had its vanities to solace him, but eternity has none.
If such, then, are the effects of ardent spirits upon the condition of civilized man, who has the precepts of instructed reason to enlighten him, and the consolations of Christianity to support him, what must be the influence of intemperate habits upon the aboriginal tribes? I propose to offer a few considerations upon this subject. And in so doing I disclaim all intention of imputing to one nation of the European stock, more than the other, the national crime of having introduced ardent spirits among the American Indians. Spaniards, Portuguese, Swedes, Dutch, Italians, Russians, Germans, French and English, all come in for a share of the obloquy. They each brought ardent spirits to the New World—a proof, it may be inferred, of their general use, as a drink in Europe, at the era of the discovery. Whatever other articles the first adventurers took to operate upon the hopes and fears of the new found people, distilled or fermented liquor appears to have been, in no instance, overlooked or forgotten. It would be easy to show the use made of them in the West Indies, and in the southern part of our hemisphere. But our object is confined to the colonies planted in the North. And in this portion of the continent the English and French have been the predominating powers. It had been well, if they had predominated in everything else—if they had only been rivals for courage, wisdom and dominion. If they had only fought to acquire civil power—conquered to spread Christianity—negotiated to perpetuate peace. But we have too many facts on record to show, that they were also rivals in spreading the reign of intemperance among the Indians; in gleaning, with avaricious hand, the furs from their lodges; in stimulating them to fight in their battles, and in leaving them to their own fate, when the battles were ended.
Nor do we, as Americans, affect to have suddenly succeeded to a better state of feelings respecting the natives than our English ancestry possessed. They were men of sterling enterprise; of undaunted resolution; of high sentiments of religious and political liberty. And we owe to them and to the peculiar circumstances in which Providence placed us, all that we are, as a free and a prosperous people. But while they bequeathed to us these sentiments as the preparatives of our own national destiny, they also bequeathed to us their peculiar opinions respecting the Indian tribes. And these opinions have been cherished with obstinacy, even down to our own times. The noble sentiments of benevolence of the 19th century had not dawned, when we assumed our station in the family of nations. If they were felt by gifted individuals, they were not felt by the body of the nation. Other duties—the imperious duties of self-existence, national poverty, wasted resources, a doubtful public credit, a feeble population, harassing frontier wars, pressed heavily upon us. But we have seen all these causes of national depression passing away, in less than half a century. With them, it may be hoped, have passed away, every obstacle to the exercise of the most enlarged charity, and enlightened philanthropy, respecting the native tribes.
Nationality is sometimes as well characterized by small as by great things—by names, as by customs. And this may be observed in the treatment of the Indians, so far as respects the subject of ardent spirits. Under the French government they were liberally supplied with brandy. Under the English, with Jamaica rum. Under the Americans, with whisky. These constitute the fire, the gall, and the poison ages of Indian history. Under this triple curse they have maintained an existence in the face of a white population. But it has been an existence merely. Other nations are said to have had a golden age. But there has been no golden age for them. If there ever was a state of prosperity among them, which may be likened to it, it was when their camps were crowned with temporal abundance—when the races of animals, furred and unfurred, placed food and clothing within the reach of all—and when they knew no intoxicating drink. To counterbalance these advantages, they were, however, subject to many evils. They were then, as they are now, indolent, improvident, revengeful, warlike. Bravery, manual strength, and eloquence, were the cardinal virtues. And their own feuds kept them in a state of perpetual insecurity and alarm. The increased value given to furs, by the arrival of Europeans, created a new era in their history, and accelerated their downfall. It gave an increased energy and new object to the chase. To reward their activity in this employment, ardent spirits became the bounty, rather than the price. A two-fold injury ensued. The animals upon whose flesh they had subsisted became scarce, and their own constitutions were undermined with the subtle stimulant.
Historical writers do not always agree: but they coincide in their testimony respecting the absence of any intoxicating drink among the northern Indians, at the time of the discovery. It is well attested that the Aztecks, and other Mexican and Southern tribes, had their pulque, and other intoxicating drinks, which they possessed the art of making from various native grains and fruits. But the art itself was confined, with the plants employed, to those latitudes. And there is no historical evidence to prove that it was ever known or practised by the tribes situated north and east of the Gulf of Mexico. Dr. Robertson, an able and faithful describer of Indian manners, fully concurs with the Jesuit authors, in saying that no such beverage was known in the north, until Europeans found it for their pecuniary interest to supply it. After which, intoxication became as common among the northern as the southern tribes.[39]
Three hundred and forty years ago there was not a white man in America. Columbus discovered the West India Islands; but Cabot and Verrizani were the discoverers of North America. Cartier and Hudson followed in the track. The first interview of Hudson with the Mohegan tribes, took place at the mouth of the river which now bears his name. It is remarkable as the scene of the first Indian intoxication among them. He had no sooner cast anchor, and landed from his boat, and passed a friendly salutation with the natives, than he ordered a bottle of ardent spirits to be brought. To show that he did not intend to offer them what he would not himself taste, an attendant poured him out a cup of the liquor, which he drank off. The cup was then filled and passed to the Indians. But they merely smelled of it and passed it on. It had nearly gone round the circle untasted, when one of the chiefs, bolder than the rest, made a short harangue, saying it would be disrespectful to return it untasted, and declaring his intention to drink off the potion, if he should be killed in the attempt. He drank it off. Dizziness and stupor immediately ensued. He sank down and fell into a sleep—the sleep of death, as his companions thought. But in due time he awoke—declared the happiness he had experienced from its effects—asked again for the cup, and the whole assembly followed his example.[40]
Nor was the first meeting with the New England tribes very dissimilar. It took place at Plymouth, in 1620. Massasoit, the celebrated chief of the Pokanokets, came to visit the new settlers, not long after their landing. He was received by the English governor with military music and the discharge of some muskets. After which, the Governor kissed his hand. Massasoit then kissed him, and they both sat down together. “A pot of strong water,” as the early writers expressed it, was then ordered, from which both drank. The chief, in his simplicity, drank so great a draught that it threw him into a violent perspiration during the remainder of the interview.[41]
The first formal interview of the French with the Indians of the St. Lawrence is also worthy of being referred to, as it appears to have been the initial step in vitiating the taste of the Indians, by the introduction of a foreign drink. It took place in 1535, on board one of Cartier's ships, lying at anchor near the Island of Orleans, forty-nine years before the arrival of Amidas and Barlow on the coast of Virginia. Donnaconna, a chief who is courteously styled the “Lord of Agouhanna,” visited the ship with twelve canoes. Ten of these he had stationed at a distance, and with the other two, containing sixteen men, he approached the vessels. When he drew near the headmost vessel, he began to utter an earnest address, accompanied with violent gesticulation. Cartier hailed his approach in a friendly manner. He had, the year before, captured two Indians on the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and he now addressed the chief through their interpretation. Donnaconna listened to his native language with delight, and was so much pleased with the recital they gave, that he requested Cartier to reach his arm over the side of the vessel, that he might kiss it. He was not content with this act of salutation, but fondled it, by drawing the arm gently around his neck. His watchful caution did not, however, permit him to venture on board. Cartier, willing to give him a proof of his confidence, then descended into the chief's canoe, and ordered bread and wine to be brought. They ate and drank together, all the Indians present participating in the banquet, which appears to have been terminated in a temperate manner.[42]
But like most temperate beginnings in the use of spirits, it soon led to intemperance in its most repulsive forms. The taste enkindled by wine, was soon fed with brandy, and spread among the native bands like a wildfire. It gave birth to disease, discord, and crime, in their most shocking forms. Too late the government and the clergy saw their error, and attempted to arrest it; but it was too deeply seated among their own countrymen, as well as among the Indians. Every effort proved unsuccessful; and the evil went on until the Canadas were finally transferred to the British crown, with this “mortal canker” burning upon the northern tribes. Those who have leisure and curiosity to turn to the early writers, will see abundant evidence of its deep and wide-spread influence. It became the ready means of rousing to action a people averse to long continued exertion of any kind. It was the reward of the chase. It was the price of blood. It was the great bar to the successful introduction of Christianity. It is impossible that the Indian should both drink and pray. It was impossible then, and it is impossible now: and the missionary who entered the forest, with the Bible and crucifix in one hand, and the bottle in the other, might say, with the Roman soliloquist, who deliberated on self-murder,
National rivalry, between the English and French governments, gave a character of extreme bitterness to the feelings of the Indians, and served to promote the passion for strong drink. It added to the horrors of war, and accumulated the miseries of peace. It was always a struggle between these nations which should wield the Indian power; and, so far as religion went, it was a struggle between the Catholic and Protestant tenets. It was a power which both had, in a measure, the means of putting into motion: but neither had the complete means of controlling it, if we concede to them the perfect will. It would have mitigated the evil, if this struggle for mastering the Indian mind had terminated with a state of war, but it was kept up during the feverish intermissions of peace. Political influence was the ever-present weight in each side of the scale. Religion threw in her aid; but it was trade, the possession of the fur trade, that gave the preponderating weight. And there is nothing in the history of this rivalry, from the arrival of Roberval to the death of Montcalm, that had so permanently pernicious an influence as the sanction which this trade gave to the use of ardent spirits.
We can but glance at this subject; but it is a glance at the track of a tornado. Destruction lies in its course. The history of the fur trade is closely interwoven with the history of intemperance among the Indians. We know not how to effect the separation. Look at it in what era you will, the barter in ardent spirits constitutes a prominent feature. From Jamestown to Plymouth—from the island of Manhattan to the Lake of the Hills, the traffic was introduced at the earliest periods. And we cannot now put our finger on the map, to indicate a spot where ardent spirits is not known to the natives. Is it at the mouth of the Columbia, the sources of the Multnomah, or the Rio del Norde—the passes of the Rocky Mountains on Peace River, or the shores of the Arctic Sea? it is known at all these places. The natives can call it by name, and they place a value on its possession. We do not wish to convey the idea that it is abundant at these remote places. We have reason to believe it is seldom seen. But we also believe that in proportion as it is scarce—in proportion as the quantity is small, and the occasion of its issue rare, so is the price of it in sale, and the value of it in gift, enhanced. And just so far as it is used, it is pernicious in effect, unnecessary in practice, unwise in policy.
The French, who have endeared themselves so much in the affections of the Indians, were earlier in Canada than the English upon the United States' coast. Cartier's treat of wine and bread to the Iroquois of the St. Lawrence, happened eighty-five years before the landing of the Pilgrims. They were also earlier to perceive the evils of an unrestrained trade, in which nothing was stipulated, and nothing prohibited. To prevent its irregularities, licenses were granted by the French government to individuals, on the payment of a price. It was a boon to superannuated officers, and the number was limited. In 1685, the number was twenty-five. But the remedy proved worse than the disease. These licenses became negotiable paper. They were sold from hand to hand, and gave birth to a traffic, which assumed the same character in temporal affairs, that “indulgences” did in spiritual. They were, in effect, licenses to commit every species of wrong, for those who got them at last, were generally persons under the government of no high standard of moral responsibility; and as they may be supposed to have paid well for them, they were sure to make it up by excessive exactions upon the Indians. Courier du bois, was the term first applied to them. Merchant voyageur, was the appellation at a subsequent period. But whatever they were called, one spirit actuated them—the spirit of acquiring wealth by driving a gainful traffic with an ignorant people, and for this purpose ardent spirits was but too well adapted. They transported it, along with articles of necessity, up long rivers, and over difficult portages. And when they had reached the borders of the Upper Lakes, or the banks of the Sasketchawine, they were too far removed from the influence of courts, both judicial and ecclesiastical to be in much dread of them. Feuds, strifes, and murders ensued. Crime strode unchecked through the land. Every Indian trader became a legislator and a judge. His word was not only a law, but it was a law which possessed the property of undergoing as many repeals and mutations as the interest, the pride, or the passion of the individual rendered expedient. If wealth was accumulated, it is not intended to infer that the pressing wants of the Indians were not relieved—that the trade was not a very acceptable and important one to them, and that great peril and expense were not encountered, and a high degree of enterprise displayed in its prosecution. But it is contended, that if real wants were relieved, artificial ones were created—that if it substituted the gun for the bow, and shrouds and blankets in the place of the more expensive clothing of beaver skins, it also substituted ardent spirits for water—intoxication for sobriety—disease for health.
Those who entertain the opinion that the fall of Quebec, celebrated in England and America as a high military achievement, and the consequent surrender of Canada, produced any very important improvement in this state of things, forget that the leading principles and desires of the human heart are alike in all nations, acting under like circumstances. The desire of amassing wealth—the thirst for exercising power—the pride of information over ignorance—the power of vicious over virtuous principles, are not confined to particular eras, nations, or latitudes. They belong to mankind, and they will be pursued with a zeal as irrespective of equal and exact justice, wherever they are not restrained by the ennobling maxims of Christianity.
Whoever feels interested in looking back into this period of our commercial Indian affairs, is recommended to peruse the published statistical and controversial volumes, growing out of the Earl of Selkirk's schemes of colonization, and to the proceedings of the North West Company. This iron monopoly grew up out of private adventure. Such golden accounts were brought out of the country by the Tods, the Frobishers, and the M'Tavishes, and M'Gillvrays, who first visited it, that every bold man, who had either talents or money, rushed to the theatre of action. The boundary which had been left to the French, as the limit of trade, was soon passed. The Missinipi, Athabasca, Fort Chipewyan, Slave lake, Mackenzie's and Copper Mine Rivers, the Unjigah and the Oregon, were reached in a few years. All Arctic America was penetrated. The British government is much indebted to Scottish enterprise for the extension of its power and resources in this quarter. But while we admire the zeal and boldness with which the limits of the trade were extended, we regret that a belief in the necessity of using ardent spirits caused them to be introduced, in any quantity, among the North West tribes.
Other regions have been explored to spread the light of the gospel. This was traversed to extend the reign of intemperance, and to prove that the love of gain was so strongly implanted in the breast of the white man, as to carry him over regions of ice and snow, woods and waters, where the natives had only been intruded on by the Musk Ox and the Polar bear. Nobody will deem it too much to say, that wherever the current of the fur trade set, the nations were intoxicated, demoralized, depopulated. The terrible scourge of the small pox, which broke out in the country north west of Lake Superior in 1782, was scarcely more fatal to the natives, though more rapid and striking in its effects, than the power of ardent spirits. Nor did it produce so great a moral affliction. For those who died of the varioloid, were spared the death of ebriety. Furs were gleaned with an iron hand, and rum was given out with an iron heart. There was no remedy for the rigors of the trade; and there was no appeal. Beaver was sought with a thirst of gain as great as that which carried Cortez to Mexico, and Pizarro to Peru. It had deadened the ties of humanity, and cut asunder the cords of private faith.[43] Like the Spaniard in his treatment of Capolicon, when the latter had given him the house full of gold for his ransom, he was himself basely executed. So the northern chief, when he had given his all, gave himself as the victim at last. He was not, however, consumed at the stake, but at the bottle. The sword of his executioner was spirits—his gold, beaver skins. And no mines of the precious metals, which the world has ever produced, have probably been more productive of wealth, than the fur-yielding regions of North America.
But while the products of the chase have yielded wealth to the white man, they have produced misery to the Indian. The latter, suffering for the means of subsistence, like the child in the parable, had asked for bread, and he received it; but, with it, he received a scorpion. And it is the sting of the scorpion, that has been raging among the tribes for more than two centuries, causing sickness, death, and depopulation in its track. It is the venom of this sting, that has proved emphatically
Let me not be mistaken, in ascribing effects disproportionate to their cause, or in overlooking advantages which have brought along in their train, a striking evil. I am no admirer of that sickly philosophy, which looks back upon a state of nature as a state of innocence, and which cannot appreciate the benefits the Indian race have derived from the discovery of this portion of the world by civilized and Christian nations. But while I would not, on the one hand, conceal my sense of the advantages, temporal and spiritual, which hinge upon this discovery, I would not, on the other, disguise the evils which intemperance has caused among them; nor cease to hold it up, to the public, as a great and destroying evil, which was early introduced—which has spread extensively—which is in active operation, and which threatens yet more disastrous consequences to this unfortunate race.
Writers have not been wanting, who are prone to lay but little stress upon the destructive influence of ardent spirits, in diminishing the native population, and who have considered its effects as trifling in comparison to the want of food, and the enhanced price created by this want.[44] The abundance or scarcity of food is a principle in political economy, which is assumed as the primary cause of depopulation. And, as such, we see no reason to question its soundness. If the value of labor, the price of clothing and other necessary commodities, can be referred to the varying prices of vegetable and animal food, we do not see that the fact of a people's being civilized or uncivilized, should invalidate the principle; and when we turn our eyes upon the forest we see that it does not. A pound of beaver, which in 1730, when animal food was abundant, was worth here about a French crown, is now, when food is scarce and dear, worth from five to six dollars; and consequently, one pound of beaver now will procure as much food and clothing as five pounds of the like quality of beaver then. It is the failure of the race of furred animals, and the want of industry in hunting them, that operate to produce depopulation. And what, we may ask, has so powerful an effect in destroying the energies of the hunter, as the vice of intemperance? Stupefying his mind, and enervating his body, it leaves him neither the vigor to provide for his temporary wants, nor the disposition to inquire into those which regard eternity. His natural affections are blunted, and all the sterner and nobler qualities of the Indian mind prostrated. His family are neglected. They first become objects of pity to our citizens, and then of disgust. The want of wholesome food and comfortable clothing produce disease. He falls at last himself, the victim of disease, superinduced from drinking.
Such is no exaggerated picture of the Indian, who is in a situation to contract the habit of intemperance. And it is only within the last year or eighteen months—it is only since the operation of Temperance principles has been felt in this remote place, that scenes of this kind have become unfrequent, and have almost ceased in our village, and in our settlement. And when we look abroad to other places, and observe the spread of temperance in the wide area from Louisiana to Maine, we may almost fancy we behold the accomplishment of Indian fable. It is related, on the best authority, that among the extravagances of Spanish enterprise, which characterized the era of the discovery of America, the natives had reported the existence of a fountain in the interior of one of the islands, possessed of such magical virtues, that whoever bathed in its waters would be restored to the bloom of youth and the vigor of manhood. In search of this wonderful fountain historians affirm, that Ponce de Leon and his followers ranged the island. They only, however, drew upon themselves the charge of credulity. May we not suppose this tale of the salutary fountain to be an Indian allegory of temperance? It will, at least, admit of this application. And let us rejoice that, in the era of temperance, we have found the spring which will restore bloom to the cheeks of the young man, and the panacea that will remove disease from the old.
When we consider the effects which our own humble efforts as inhabitants of a distant post have produced in this labor of humanity, have we not every encouragement to persevere? Is it not an effort sanctioned by the noblest affections of our nature—by the soundest principles of philanthropy—by the highest aspirations of Christian benevolence? Is it not the work of patriots as well as Christians? of good citizens as well as good neighbors? Is it not a high and imperious duty to rid our land of the foul stain of intemperance? Is it a duty too hard for us to accomplish? Is there anything unreasonable in the voluntary obligations by which we are bound? Shall we lose property or reputation by laboring in the cause of temperance? Will the debtor be less able to pay his debts, or the creditor less able to collect them? Shall we injure man, woman or child, by dashing away the cup of intoxication? Shall we incur the charge of being denominated fools or madmen? Shall we violate any principles of morality, or any of the maxims of Christianity? Shall we run the risk of diminishing the happiness of others, or putting our own in jeopardy? Finally, shall we injure man—shall we offend God?
If neither of these evils will result—if the highest principles of virtue and happiness sanction the measure—if learning applauds it, and religion approves it—if good must result from its success, and injury cannot accrue from its failure, what further motive need we to impel us onward, to devote our best faculties in the cause, and neither to faint nor rest till the modern hydra of intemperance be expelled from our country?
The Cattaraugus (N. Y.) Whig, of a late date, mentions that Gov. Blacksnake, the Grand Sachem of the Indian nation, was recently in that place. He resides on the Alleghany Reservation, about twenty miles from the village; is the successor of Corn Planter, as chief of the Six Nations—a nephew of Joseph Brant, and uncle of the celebrated Red Jacket. He was born near Cayuga Lake in 1749, being now ninety-six years of age. He was in the battle of Fort Stanwix, Wyoming, &c., and was a warm friend of Gen. Washington during the Revolution. He was in Washington's camp forty days at the close of the Revolution—was appointed chief by him, and now wears suspended from his neck a beautiful silver medal presented to him by Gen. Washington, bearing date 1796.
THE POLICY PURSUED TOWARDS THEM BY GOVERNMENT, AND THE PRESENT CONDITION OF THE TRIBES WHO HAVE REMOVED WEST OF THE MISSISSIPPI.[45]
The removal of the Indian Tribes within our State boundaries, to the west of the Mississippi, and their present condition and probable ultimate fate, have been the topic of such frequent speculation, misunderstanding, and may we not add, misrepresentation, within a few years past, both at home and abroad, that we suppose some notice of them, and particularly of the territory they occupy, and the result, thus far, of their experiment in self-government, drawn from authentic sources, may prove not unacceptable to the public.
The nomadic and hunter states of society never embraced within themselves the elements of perpetuity. They have ever existed, indeed, like a vacuum in the system of nature, which is at every moment in peril, and subject to be filled up and destroyed by the in-rushing of the surrounding element. Civilisation is that element, in relation to non-agricultural and barbaric tribes, and the only question with respect to their continuance as distinct communities has been, how long they could resist its influence, and at what particular era this influence should change, improve, undermine, or destroy them. It is proved by history, that two essentially different states of society, with regard to art and civilisation, cannot both prosperously exist together, at the same time. The one which is in the ascendant will absorb and destroy the other. A wolf and a lamb are not more antagonistical in the system of organic being, than civilisation and barbarism, in the great ethnological impulse of man's diffusion over the globe. In this impulse, barbarism may temporarily triumph, as we see it has done by many striking examples in the history of Asia and Europe. But such triumphs have been attended with this remarkable result, that they have, in the end, reproduced the civilisation which they destroyed. Such, to quote no other example, was the effect of the prostration of the Roman type of civilisation by the warlike and predatory tribes of Northern Europe. Letters and Christianity were both borne down, for a while, by this irresistible on-rush; but they were thereby only the more deeply implanted in the stratum of preparing civilisation; and in due time, like the grain that rots before it reproduces, sprang up with a vigor and freshness, which is calculated to be enduring, and to fill the globe.
Civilisation may be likened to an absorbent body, placed in contact with an anti-absorbent, for some of the properties of which it has strong affinities. It will draw these latter so completely out, that, to use a strong phrase, it may be said to eat them up. Civilisation is found to derive some of the means of its perfect development from letters and the arts, but it cannot permanently exist without the cultivation of the soil. It seems to have been the fundamental principle on which the species were originally created, that they should derive their sustenance and means of perpetuation from this industrial labor. Wherever agricultural tribes have placed themselves in juxtaposition to hunters and erratic races, they have been found to withdraw from the latter the means of their support, by narrowing the limits of the forest and plains, upon the wild animals of which, both carnivorous and herbivorous, hunters subsist. When these have been destroyed, the grand resources of these hunters and pursuers have disappeared. Wars, the introduction of foreign articles or habits of injurious tendency, may accelerate the period of their decline—a result which is still further helped forward by internal dissensions, and the want of that political foresight by which civil nations exist. But without these, and by the gradual process of the narrowing down of their hunting grounds, and the conversion of the dominions of the bow and arrow to those of the plough, this result must inevitably ensue. There is no principle of either permanency or prosperity in the savage state.
It is a question of curious and philosophic interest, however, to observe the varying and very unequal effects, which different types of civilisation have had upon the wild hordes of men with whom it has come into contact. And still more, perhaps, to trace the original efficiency, or effeminacy of the civil type, in the blood of predominating races, who have been characterized by it. In some of the European stocks this type has remained nearly stationary since it reached the chivalric era. In others, it had assumed a deeply commercial tone, and confined itself greatly to the drawing forth, from the resources of new countries, those objects which invigorate trade. There is no stock, having claims to a generic nationality, in which the principle of progress has, from the outset, been so strongly marked, as in those hardy, brave and athletic tribes in the north of Europe, for whom the name of Teutons conveys, perhaps, a more comprehensive meaning, than the comparatively later one of Saxons. The object of this race appears continually to be, and to have been, to do more than has previously been done; to give diffusion and comprehension to designs of improvement, and thus, by perpetually putting forth new efforts, on the globe, to carry on man to his highest destiny. The same impulsive aspirations of the spirit of progress, the same energetic onwardness of principle which overthrew Rome, overthrew, at another period, the simple institutions of the woad-stained Britons; and, whatever other aspect it bears, we must attribute to the same national energy the modern introduction of European civilisation into Asia.
When these principles come to be applied to America, and to be tested by its native tribes, we shall clearly perceive their appropriate and distinctive effects. In South America, where the type of chivalry marked the discoverers, barbarism has lingered among the natives, without being destroyed, for three centuries. In Canada, which drew its early colonists exclusively from the feudal towns and seaports, whose inhabitants had it for a maxim, that they had done all that was required of good citizens, when they had done all that had been previously done, the native tribes have remained perfectly stationary. With the exception of slight changes in dress, and an absolute depreciation in morals, they are essentially at this day what they were in the respective eras of Cartier and Champlain. In the native monarchies of Mexico and Peru, Spain overthrew the gross objects of idolatrous worship, and intercalated among these tribes the arts and some of the customs of the 16th century. With a very large proportion of the tribes but little was attempted beyond military subjugation, and less accomplished. The seaboard tribes received the ritual of the Romish church. Many of those in the interior, comprehending the higher ranges of the Andes and Cordilleras, remain to this day in the undisturbed practice of their ancient superstitions and modes of subsistence. It is seen from recent discoveries, that there are vast portions of the interior of the country, unknown, unexplored and undescribed. We are just, indeed, beginning to comprehend the true character of the indigenous Indian civilisation of the era of the discovery. These remarks are sufficient to show how feebly the obligations of letters and Christianity have been performed, with respect to the red men, by the colonists of those types of the early European civilisation, who rested themselves on feudal tenures, military renown, and an ecclesiastical system of empty ceremonies.
It was with very different plans and principles that North America was colonized. We consider the Pilgrims as the embodiment of the true ancient Teutonic type. Their Alaric and Brennus were found in the pulpit and in the school-room. They came with high and severe notions of civil and religious liberty. It was their prime object to sustain themselves, not by conquest, but by cultivating the soil. To escape an ecclesiastical tyranny at home, they were willing to venture themselves in new climes. But they meant to triumph in the arts of peace. They embarked with the Bible as their shield and sword, and they laid its principles at the foundation of all their institutions, civil, literary, industrial, and ecclesiastic. They were pious and industrious themselves, and they designed to make the Indian tribes so. They bought their lands and paid for them, and proceeded to establish friendly neighborhoods among the tribes. Religious truth, as it is declared in the Gospel, was the fundamental principle of all their acts. In its exposition and daily use, they followed no interpretations of councils at variance with its plain import. This every one was at liberty to read.
Placed side by side with such an enlightened and purposed race, what had the priests of the system of native rites and superstitions to expect? There could be no compromise of rites—no partial conformity—no giving up a part to retain the rest—as had been done in the plains of Central America, Mexico and Yucatan. No toleration of pseudo-paganism, as had been done on the waters of the Orinoco, the Parana and the Paraguay. They must abandon the system at once. The error was gross and total. They must abjure it. They had mistaken darkness for light; and they were now offered the light. They had worshipped Lucifer instead of Immanuel. This the tribes who spread along the shores of the North Atlantic were told, and nothing was held back. They founded churches and established schools among them. They translated the entire Bible, and the version of David's Psalms, and the Hymns of Dr. Watts, into one of their languages. Two types of the human race, more fully and completely antagonistical, in all respects, never came in contact on the globe. They were the alpha and omega of the ethnological chain. If, therefore, the Red Race declined, and the white increased, it was because civilisation had more of the principles of endurance and progress than barbarism; because Christianity was superior to paganism; industry to idleness; agriculture to hunting; letters to hieroglyphics; truth to error. Here lie the true secrets of the Red Men's decline.
There are but three principal results which, we think, the civilized world could have anticipated for the race, at the era of the discovery. 1. They might be supposed to be subject to early extermination on the coasts, where they were found. A thousand things would lead to this, which need not be mentioned. Intemperance and idleness alone were adequate causes. 2. Philanthropists and Christians might hope to reclaim them, either in their original positions on the coasts, or in agricultural communities in adjacent parts. 3. Experience and forecast might indicate a third result, in which full success should attend neither of the foregoing plans, nor yet complete failure. There was nothing, exactly, in the known history of mankind, to guide opinion. A mixed condition of things was the most probable result. And this, it might be anticipated, would be greatly modified by times and seasons, circumstances and localities, acting on particular tribes. Nothing less could have been expected but the decline and extinction of some tribe, whilst the removal of others, to less exposed positions, would be found to tell upon their improvement. The effects of letters and Christianity would necessarily be slow; but they were effects, which the history of discovery and civilisation, in other parts of the world, proved to be effective and practical. What was this mixed condition to eventuate in?—how long was it to continue? Were the tribes to exercise sovereign political jurisdiction over the tracts they lived on? Were they to submit to the civilized code, and if so, to the penal code only, or also to the civil? Or, if not, were they to exist by amalgamation with the European stocks, and thus contribute the elements of a new race? These, and many other questions, early arose, and were often not a little perplexing to magistrates, legislatures, and governors. It was evident the aboriginal race possessed distinctive general rights, but these existed contemporaneously, or intermixed with the rights of the discoverers. How were these separate rights to be defined? How were the weak to be protected, and the strong to be restrained, at points beyond the ordinary pale of the civil law? If a red man killed a white, without the ordinary jurisdiction of the courts, could he be seized as a criminal? And if so, were civil offences, committed without the jurisdiction of either territory, cognizable in either, or neither? Could there be a supremacy within a supremacy? And what was the limit between State and United States laws? Such were among the topics entering into the Indian policy. It was altogether a mixed system, and like most mixed systems, it worked awkwardly, confusedly, and sometimes badly. Precedents were to be established for new cases, and these were perpetually subject to variation. Legislators, judges, and executive officers were often in doubt, and it required the wisest, shrewdest, and best men in the land to resolve these doubts, and to lay down rules, or advice, for future proceeding in relation to the Red Race. It will be sufficient to bear out the latter remark, to say, that among the sages who deemed this subject important, were a Roger Williams, a Penn, a Franklin, a Washington, a Jefferson, a Monroe, a Crawford, and a Calhoun.
It must needs have happened, that where the Saxon race went, the principles of law, justice, and freedom, must prevail. These principles, as they existed in England at the beginning of the sixteenth century, were transferred to America, with the Cavaliers, the Pilgrims, and the Quakers, precisely, as to the two first topics, as they existed at home. Private rights were as well secured, and public justice as well awarded here, as there. But they also brought over the aristocratic system, which was upheld by the royal governors, who were the immediate representatives of the crown. The doctrine was imprescriptible, that the fee of all public or unpatented lands was in the crown, and all inhabitants of the realm owed allegiance and fealty to the crown. This doctrine, when applied to the native tribes of America, left them neither fee-simple in the soil, nor political sovereignty over it. It cut them down to vassals, but, by a legal solecism, they were regarded as a sort of free vassals. So long as the royal governments remained, they had the usufruct of the public domain—the right of fishing, and hunting, and planting upon it, and of doing certain other acts of occupancy; but this right ceased just as soon, and as fast, as patents were granted, or the public exigency required the domain. The native chiefs were quieted with presents from the throne, through the local officers, and their ideas of independence and control were answered by the public councils, in which friendships were established, and the public tranquillity looked after. Private purchases were made from the outset, but the idea of a public treaty of purchase of the soil under the proprietary and royal governors, was not entertained before the era of William Penn.
It remained for the patriots of 1775, who set up the frame of our present government, by an appeal to arms, to award the aboriginal tribes the full proprietary right to the soil they respectively occupied, and to guarantee to them its full and free use, until such right was relinquished by treaty stipulations. So far, they were acknowledged as sovereigns. This is the first step in their political exaltation, and dates, in our records, from the respective treaties of Fort Pitt, September 17, 1778, and of Fort Stanwix, of October 22, 1784. The latter was as early after the establishment of our independence, as these tribes—the Six nations, who, with the exception of the Oneidas, sided with the parent country—could be brought to listen to the terms of peace. They were followed by the Wyandots, Delawares, and Chippewas, and Ottowas, in January, 1785; by the Cherokees, in November of the same year; and by the Choctaws and Shawnees, in January, 1786. Other western nations followed in 1789; the Creeks did not treat till 1790. And from this era, the system has been continued up to the present moment. It may be affirmed, that there is not an acre of land of the public domain of the United States, sold at the land offices, from the days of General Washington, but what has been acquired in this manner. War, in which we and they have been frequently involved, since that period, has conveyed no territorial right. We have conquered them, on the field, not to usurp territory, but to place them in a condition to observe how much more their interests and permanent prosperity would be, and have ever been, promoted by the plough than the sword. And there has been a prompt recurrence, at every mutation from war to peace, punctually, to that fine sentiment embraced in the first article of the first treaty ever made between the American government and the Indian tribes, namely, that all offences and animosities “shall be mutually forgiven, and buried in deep oblivion, and never more be had in remembrance.”[46]
The first step to advance the aboriginal man to his natural and just political rights, namely, the acknowledgment of his right to the soil, we have mentioned; but those that were to succeed it were more difficult and complex in their bearings. Congress, from the earliest traces of their action, as they appear in their journals and public acts, confined the operation of the civil code to the territory actually acquired by negotiation, and treaties duly ratified by the Senate, and proclaimed, agreeably to the Constitution, by the President. So much of this public territory as fell within the respective State lines, fell, by the terms of our political compact, under State laws, and the jurisdiction of the State courts; and as soon as new tracts of the Indian territory, thus within State boundaries, were acquired, the State laws had an exact corresponding extension until the whole of such Indian lands had been acquired. This provided a definite and clear mode of action, and if it were sometimes the subject of doubt or confliction, such perplexity arose from the great extension of the country, its sparsely settled condition, and the haste or ignorance of local magistrates. And these difficulties were invariably removed whenever the cases came into the Supreme Court of the United States.
Without regard to the area of the States, but including and having respect only to the territories, and to the vast and unincorporated wilderness, called the “Indian country,” Congress provided a special code of laws, and from the first, held over this part of the Union, and holds over it now, full and complete jurisdiction. This code was designed chiefly to regulate the trade carried on at those remote points between the white and red men, to preserve the public tranquillity, and to provide for the adjudication of offences. Citizens of the United States, carrying the passport, license, or authority of their government, are protected by their papers thus legally obtained; and the tribes are held answerable for their good treatment, and if violence occur, for their lives. No civil process, however, has efficacy in such positions; and there is no compulsory legal collection of debts, were it indeed practicable, on the Indian territories. The customs and usages of the trade and intercourse, as established from early times, prevail there. These customs are chiefly founded on the patriarchal system, which was found in vogue on the settlement of the country, and they admit of compensations and privileges founded on natural principles of equity and right. The Indian criminal code, whatever that is, also prevails there. The only exception to it arises from cases of Americans, maliciously killed within the “Indian country,” the laws of Congress providing, that the aggressors should be surrendered into the hands of justice, and tried by the nearest United States courts.
These preliminary facts will exhibit some of the leading features of the mixed system alluded to. Its workings were better calculated for the early stages of society, while population was sparse and the two races, as bodies, kept far apart, than for its maturer periods. As the intervening lands became ceded, and sold, and settled, and the tribes themselves began to put on aspects of civilisation, the discrepancies of the system, and its want of homogeneousness and harmony, became more apparent. Throughout the whole period of the administrations of Washington, and John Adams, and Jefferson, a period of twenty years, the low state of our population, and the great extent and unreclaimed character of the public domain, left the Indians undisturbed, and no questions of much importance occurred to test the permanency of the system as regards the welfare of the Indians. Mr. Jefferson foresaw, however, the effect of encroachments beyond the Ohio, and with an enlightened regard for the race and their civilisation, prepared a new and consolidated code of all prior acts, with some salutary new provisions, which had the effect to systematize the trade and intercourse, and more fully to protect the rights of the Indians. This code served, with occasional amendments, through the succeeding administrations of Madison, Monroe, and John Quincy Adams, into that of General Jackson, when, in 1834, the greatly advanced line of the frontiers, the multiplied population, and necessarily increased force of the Indian department, and the large amount of Indian annuities to be paid, called for its thorough revision, and a new general enactment was made.
Previously, however, to this time, during the administration of Mr. Monroe, it was perceived that the Indian tribes, as separate communities, living in, and surrounded by, people of European descent, and governed by a widely different system of laws, arts, and customs, could not be expected to arrive at a state of permanent prosperity while thus locally situated. The tendency of the Saxon institutions, laws, and jurisprudence, was to sweep over them. The greater must needs absorb the less. And there appeared, on wise and mature reflection, no reasonable hope to the true friends of the native race, that they could sustain themselves in independency or success as foreign elements in the midst of the State communities. It was impossible that two systems of governments, so diverse as the Indian and American, should co-exist on the same territory. All history proved this. The most rational hope of success for this race, the only one which indeed appeared practical on a scale commensurate with the object, was to remove them, with their own consent, to a position entirely without the boundaries of the State jurisdictions, where they might assert their political sovereignty, and live and develope their true national character, under their own laws.
The impelling cause for the action of the government, during Mr. Monroe's administration, was the peculiar condition of certain tribes, living on their own original territories, within, the State boundaries, and who were adverse to further cessions of such territory. The question assumed its principal interest in the State of Georgia, within which portions of the Creek and Cherokee tribes were then living. About ten millions of acres of lands were thus in the occupancy of these two tribes. As the population of Georgia expanded and approached the Indian settlements, the evils of the mixed political system alluded to began strongly to evince themselves. In the progress of the dispersion of the human race over the globe, there never was, perhaps, a more diverse legal, political, and moral amalgamation attempted, than there was found to exist, when, in this area, the descendants from the old Saxons, north-men and Hugenots from Europe, came in contact with the descendants (we speak of a theory) of the idle, pastoral, unphilosophic, non-inductive race of central Asia, living in the genial climate and sunny valleys of Georgia and Alabama.
The American government had embarrassed itself by stipulating at an early day, with the State of Georgia, to extinguish the Indian title within her boundaries, at the earliest practicable period, when it could be done “peaceably and on reasonable conditions.” The Indians, as they advanced in agriculture, became averse to sell. The Georgians, as they increased in numbers, became importunate for the territory to which they had, in this event, the reversionary right. The President was frequently importuned by the State authorities. The Indians were frequently brought to consider the subject, which was one that increased its importance with years.
We have deemed it proper to put this matter in its right attitude in relation to the great question of Indian removal; and as furnishing, as it did, reasons for the early consideration and action of the government. It is not our intention to pursue the Georgia question disjunctively—we have neither time nor space for it here, and will only further premise, that it is susceptible of some very different views from those often premised of it.[47] That it was one of the prominent considerations which led the administration of Monroe to take up betimes the general question of the Indian tribes, is well known and remembered, and apparent from a perusal of the public documents of the era.
Governed by such considerations, Mr. Monroe communicated a special message to Congress on the 27th of January, 1825, recommending the removal of all the tribes within the States and Territories, and providing for their future “location and government.” This is the official date and foundation of the plan of removal, which has been so generally, and may we not add, so successfully and propitiously to the best interests of the tribes, carried into effect. “Being deeply impressed with the opinion,” observes this venerated statesman, who has, years since, gone to join the patriot spirits who achieved our independence—“that the removal of the Indian tribes from the land which they now occupy, within the limits of the several States and Territories, to the country lying westward and northward thereof, within our acknowledged boundaries, is of very high importance to the Union, and may be accomplished on conditions, and in a manner, to promote the interests and happiness of those tribes, the attention of the government has been long drawn, with great solicitude, to the object.
“For the removal of the tribes within the limits of the State of Georgia, the motive has been peculiarly strong, arising from the compact with that State, whereby the United States are bound to extinguish the Indian title to the lands within it, whenever it may be done peaceably, and on reasonable conditions.
“In the fulfilment of this compact, I have thought that the United States should act with a generous spirit, that they should omit nothing which should comport with a liberal construction of the instrument, and likewise be in accordance with the just rights of those tribes. From the view which I have taken of the subject, I am satisfied that, in the discharge of these important duties, in regard to both the parties alluded to, the United States will have to encounter no conflicting interests with either: on the contrary, that the removal of the tribes from the Territories which they inhabit, to that which was designated in the message at the commencement of the session, which would accomplish the object for Georgia, under a well digested plan for their government and civilisation, in a mode agreeable to themselves, would not only shield them from impending ruin, but promote their welfare and happiness. Experience has clearly demonstrated that, in their present state, it is impossible to incorporate them, in such masses, in any form whatever, into our system. It has also demonstrated, with equal certainty, that without a timely anticipation of, and provision against, the dangers to which they are exposed, under causes which it will be difficult, if not impossible, to control, their degradation and extermination will be inevitable.”
We have underscored the last two sentences, because they express in forcible and just language, the experience of the American government, in relation to the subject, after an experiment of fifty years, dating from '75, and lie, indeed, at the foundation of the present Indian policy. It is also the experience of sound and calm observers, who have watched the operation of our laws and customs upon the isolated Indian communities in the States. Every year has exemplified the futility of raising them up to the European standard in industry, in intelligence or character, while thus situated; nor, indeed, has it been practicable to shield them effectually against the combined effects of intemperance, personal sloth, and of popular and vulgar contumely.
Mr. Calhoun, whose report on the subject was transmitted to Congress, with the message above named, communicates the details essential to the execution of the proposed plan. He states the whole number of Indians to be removed from the States and Territories, excluding those located west and north of Lake Michigan and the Straits of St. Mary's, at 97,000 souls, who occupy about 77 millions of acres of land. The country proposed for their location is that stretching immediately west, beyond the boundaries of the States of Missouri and Arkansas, having the River Arkansas running through its centre from west to east, the Missouri and Red rivers respectively as the northern boundary, and the vast grassy plains east of the Rocky Mountains, as its western limit.
The map which we publish of this territory, is drawn on the basis of one which was published by Congress in 1834, in illustration of the report of the committee on Indian affairs of May 30th of that session. It embraces all the locations of tribes to that period.
The plan proposed the gratuitous grant of the country to the respective tribes, and their removal to it at government expense. It embraces the transference to it, of their schools established by religious societies, and supported, in part, by the civilisation fund, and all their means of moral and religious culture. It is based on the pursuit of agriculture, the mechanic arts, and the raising of cattle and stock. It invests the tribes with full power of making and executing all their laws and regulations, civil and criminal. It stipulates military protection, to keep the surrounding tribes at peace. It leaves them their political sovereignty; being without the boundary of the States, under their own chiefs and local governors, with such aids as are necessary to enable the various tribes to associate and set up the frame of an associated government to be managed by themselves, and as subsequently proposed in Congress, to be represented in that body whenever the system shall be perfected so as to justify this measure. It proposed, as the basis of removal, a solemn act of Congress, guaranteeing the country to them, and excluding its future incorporation into the States. A second location, in the northern latitudes, was proposed for the Indians west of Michigan, where a further body of 32,266 souls were estimated to reside.
Such were the general principles of Mr. Monroe's plan, submitted in 1825, and subsequently adopted by Congress, in its essential features. It has now been in operation eighteen years, and it is proposed, in bringing this paper to a close, briefly to examine the condition and prospects of the expatriated tribes, in the country to which they have been transferred.
By a report from the proper department, transmitted to Congress with the President's message in 1836, the result of the first ten years' experiment is shown to have been the actual migration of 40,000 from their original seats, east, to the allotted Indian territory, west of the Mississippi. Of this number, 18,000 were Creeks, 15,000 Choctaws, 6,000 Cherokees, 2,000 Chippewas, Ottawas, and Pottowattomies, 1,300 Shawnees, 800 Delawares, 500 Quapaws, 400 Seminoles, 600 Kickapoos, 400 Senecas, and an average of, say 250 each, of Appalachicolas, Weas, Piankashaws, Peorias and Kaskaskias. In this statement, small fractions over or under, are omitted. A location and permanent home has been provided for seventeen tribes and parts of tribes; a number which, in the succeeding seven years, we speak from documents before us, has been largely augmented. The whole body of the Cherokees, of the Creeks, or Muscogees, of the Chickasaws and Choctaws, &c., and also, with the exception of one principal band, of the Seminoles, have been removed. Portions of other tribes, not then full, have joined their kindred; and some whole tribes, who had not before come into the arrangement, and ceded their lands east, as the Miamas of the Wabash, and the Wyandots of Sanduskey, have since accepted locations in the Indian territory. The Chickasaws are all located with their affiliated countrymen, the Choctaws; and numbers of the ancient Iroquois confederacy, the Six Nations of New York, as well as the ancient Mohegans and Munsees, have, within a few years, selected locations south of the Missouri. The entire number of red men now concentrated on those plains and valleys, where winter scarcely exerts any severity of power, may be set down at 77,000 souls, leaving, from the official report of 1841, but 21,774 of the original estimated number of 1825, to be removed; exclusive of those west of the straits of Michilimachinac and St. Mary's.
From the documents accompanying the annual report transmitted to Congress by the President, in December, 1840, the amount of funds invested by the government in stocks, for the Indians, was $2,580,000, on which the annual interest paid to them was $131,050. Twenty-four of the tribes had permanently appropriated, by treaty, $60,730 per annum, for the purpose of education. The number of schools maintained, and the number of pupils actually taught, are not furnished. It is gratifying to know, from this source, that civilisation, agriculture, and the mechanic arts, are making a rapid progress, and that education and Christianity are walking hand-in-hand. Planting and raising cattle are adopted generally. Portions of the most advanced tribes have devoted themselves to the mechanic arts, supplying themselves, to a limited extent, with smiths, wheelwrights, carpenters, and joiners, and some other branches. Spinning and hand-loom weaving are practised to some extent. There are native merchants, among the three principal southern tribes, who ship their own cotton and other products to market, and supply their people, in return, with such products of the East and West Indies, and other parts of the world, as they require. A large part of the contracts, particularly for Indian corn, required to subsist the United States troops in that quarter of the Union, is furnished by native contractors. Their legislation is performed in representative councils, and is well adapted to the actual and advancing state of society. Many of their leading men are well educated; some of them classically; and the general moral and intellectual tone and habits of the tribes, are clearly and strikingly on the advance. It requires, it is believed, but time and perseverance in civil associations, to lead them to the same results arrived at by other barbarous nations, and to demonstrate to them the value and importance of a general political confederation, founded on the principles of equal rights and equal representation, supported by public virtue and intelligence.
Having sketched the cause of the decline of that portion of the North American Indians, who were seated along the Atlantic, and the plan proposed for checking it, we shall now, with the map and documentary evidence before us, devote a few moments to the present condition and prospects of the more prominent tribes.