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 How We Thought So how could our grandparents
consider themselves moral people yet rationalize murdering Indians and
despoiling the wilderness? Instead of merely condemning them, let's
take a moment to understand them too.
Pioneer Practices.
From the days of the Plymouth colony on the Atlantic to the present
period when the Pacific bounds--for how brief a time let us not attempt
to say--the "area of freedom," the extermination of the Indian race on
the continent has been as gradual and as natural as the growth of an
empire, and the increase of the whites over the hunting grounds once
possessed by the dusky tribes of America. In vain humanity has pleaded
the cause of the "poor Indian," in vain national efforts have been put
forth to save, and in vain civilization has provided a seat beside her
in the triumphal car of Progress and Improvement for the child of
nature and of "nature's God." His path has been downward from the day
that disclosed to him the stranger's track upon the Atlantic shore. His
destiny, or doom, has been to perish with his native wilds. Slowly he
has receded before the paleface, in a line of march towards the setting
sun. He has reached the last "vestige of dry land," and even thither he
has been followed, until the waters of the Pacific wash alike the feet
of the white and the red man.
Could that decree of fate which has followed the Indian to the verge of ocean rest here as readily as we withdraw from the contemplation of its unceasing pursuit, tracked out as it has been by scores of writers, there still might linger for many centuries to come a worthy remnant of the brave men who once held sway on the continent. But we know that this may not be. Once it was but by the light of prophetic vision that we saw the last Indian hunted to the shores of the western ocean. Today we overlook the Pacific wave, and build our homes upon the crumbling ashes of Indian huts and above the mounds of whole tribes that have been swept from before us. We stand upon the eastern coast of the great western waters, and across its waves we look for fresh signs invoking further extension of the homes of freemen. But the Indian whom we have hunted to these shores--where is his abiding place? This we call "manifest destiny." It gives us this broad expanse of land and water, and levels the primitive forms of nature, and bows down even unto the dust the outcasts of humanity. It is to no purpose that we proclaim redemption and strive to avert the fast-closing doom of the Indian. The nature of our existence does not permit of success being attained. The practices and usages of our people, from the days of the pilgrim fathers to the present moment, have involved the annihilation of the Indian race as a necessity and a part of the irresistible impulse of America's destiny. They perish, and were ordained, or at least are identified with their native wilds, to perish and pass away with the forest and hill. We may labor at "policy," and perhaps provide for a few tribes a few years' lengthened period of existence or lingering decay, but we never can save. We never can by allotments of land, by government rations, or by any system which we may adopt for the promotion of the welfare of the red man, cure the wound that is rankling in his race. We cannot shut out for him a remnant of territory of which he may be taught to feel sole possessorship, where he may prosperously and at peace pass his days. We cannot debar him from intercourse with our frontiers, while from the touch of the pernicious influences wrought by pioneer settlements he recoils as from the deadly upas, with the poison breath drying up his life. And more than this, the cause of pioneering immigration admits of no mild, humane, pacifying or conciliatory doctrines and practices. When the march of civilizing improvement is seriously impeded or obstructed, peace or war are the only and ready alternatives. No humanizing or Christianizing course could be adopted. The men who are always thrown in advance of the body of immigration are always but poor apostles in the work of conversion or reform. The axe and the rifle bear out their only ideas of improvement. When stubborn tribes of Indians do not readily conform to the elements of the new life established among them, they are like the wild beasts of the forest, and must shun the quick glance of the white settler. When it becomes necessary to subdue them, the rifle is substituted for the axe, and the day's work of slaughter counted up as though the change from the ordinary avocation of the woodsman among the forest trees to the "clearing" of a "patch" of Indians were hardly noticed. It is difficult to realize that, with all our pious resolves to sustain a humane Indian policy only, here in California, many wild sections of country can only be reclaimed from the hands of the Indian by the method usually adopted to redeem the forest land from its primitive, wild and unprofitable condition. Yet such is the fact. Government agents, with their rum and tobacco dispensations, can accomplish very little in the work of attaching to some of our public lands a marketable value, or encouraging settlement in many districts of the state. Towards her northern boundary, many of the fairest lands of California are overrun with troublesome and untamable tribes of Indians. The Rogue River Indians are an unalterably vicious and dangerous people. They will never, in their mountain homes, consent to partake of the thralldom of the white man's law, and preach against the practice as we may, they can only be removed by the exterminating encroachments of their superior enemy--by the law of the rifle and the axe, and the code of practice usually "served out" by the pioneer. That extermination is only another name for the warfare already commenced in this country is shown by the following extract from a letter written by one of an expedition at present ranging the Rogue River country. He says: "During this period we have been searching about in the mountains, destroying villages, killing all the males we could find, and capturing women and children. We have killed about 30 altogether, and have 28 prisoners now in camp." This system of singling out and deliberately destroying "all the males" is on the plan of indiscriminate massacre. We may treat these things with strong disfavor, but by such process, and by this barbarous practice, do our pioneers prepare the way for settlement and civilization. Daily Alta California, San Francisco, August 15, 1851, page 2 The Red Men.--Here we learned more fully the particulars of the recent difficulties with the Indians. It resulted in their being surrounded by the whites, and completely reduced to terms on their favorite fighting ground. From twenty to thirty Indians were killed. Bad as these savages have been, one cannot help thinking that such an expenditure of human life is too wasteful to meet the smiles of Heaven. William Roberts, "Tour to Puget Sound," Vermont Christian Messenger, Northfield, Vermont, May 11, 1853, page 1
Father Beeson.
So the old Indian apostle has been passing that hat around upon the
aboriginal topic among the friends of humanity on the Sacramento.
Seriously enough, there are great evils in the treatment of Indians;
there are many reckless characters who shoot them down in retaliation
and bring retaliation again on defenseless women and children. But can
the old apostle obviate all this by passing around his hat, appealing
to eastern folks in behalf of savages whose extinction--the fact cannot
be ignored or denied--is the best thing that can befall them and us?
Civilization has not reached them, though the early settlers here came
purposely to minister to them; it scarcely ever helps them, and while
government should treat with them oftener and keep its treaties better,
it is also true that the nature of a redskin renders him very
inappreciative of the civilization offered them. I have lived among
them, and I know them. Let government do as it agrees; let it keep its
faith with them and care for them, and let them pass away. Father
Beeson is hardly appreciated here. In the main he is right, and means
well, as self-constituted philanthropists often do--but there is too
much such philanthropy wasted in this nineteenth century. Having, as he
says, for eight years run on the Indian hobby [i.e., obsession],
it is to be hoped that he will return to Rogue River Valley, and in the
bosom of his family recover from his long spell of Indian fever. "Letter from Oregon," Sacramento Daily Union, February 13, 1865, page 3 We remember some of the early traditions of the country, among these the boasts of infamous white wretches how, for mere amusement, and that thoughtless wantonness in which a schoolboy kills a sparrow, they were in the habit of shooting the Rogue River and Klamath Indians on sight, as they traveled the great trails leading from Oregon to California; and we also remember how the wantonness of these ruffians was afterward atoned for under the Indian code, by the indiscriminate murder of innocent whites. "Let Us Try the Quakers," Sacramento Daily Union, May 7, 1869, page 4 So much has been written upon the subject of Indians by novelists and others, many of whom have never seen an Indian in their lives, excepting the few representatives of various tribes who have occasionally visited their great father at Washington, that the theme has become somewhat threadbare. I think, however, that my experience will justify a few remarks upon the question, as I have seen the Indians in all their varied grades of life, from the civilized in the interior of the state of New York, and the half-civilized in the Cherokee and Choctaw nations, down to the wild Tonkaways and Comanches of our southwestern prairies, and the Snake and Coast Indians, of Oregon. I have beheld them in health and in sickness, in peace and in war, and from a position somewhat different from that of most observers. Out of the sixteen millions of those red men who once roamed abroad over the vast area of the United States, there are now living about three hundred and forty thousand. War, pestilence, and famine have made sad havoc with these original lords of the soil; and the day is not far distant when we will hear of them only in history. It is, therefore, the duty of everyone who knows anything of this fast fading race to place it upon record for the information of future generations. Some persons look upon the Indian as essentially a thieving, lying, cruel, relentless and murderous savage, worthy of no sympathy or love; and possessing no rights that ought to be respected, who should be shot down as a wild beast, and utterly exterminated from the face of the earth; whilst others paint him in glowing colors as possessing highly intellectual and moral qualities, and as being the innocent victim of the white man's revenge. One party denies the capability of an Indian to be civilized or Christianized, and pronounces all efforts towards this result by the government as magnificent failures; whilst others believe that it is only necessary to explain to the Indian what civilization and Christianity are, and his whole nature is suddenly changed. Others again, think that those Indians only who hover on the border of civilization, and whose habits have been changed by long and persistent cruel treatment on the part of the whites, deserve the name of savages; that to find the red man in his faithful, honest, hospitable, noble and brave condition, it is necessary to see him in his native home, undefiled by contamination with the rest of the world. When an Indian war occurs, a larger portion of the people of the Eastern States are too willing to believe that the right is always on the side of the poor Indian, who ought to be protected and kept out of harm's way, instead of being chastised into submission to the laws of the land. I cannot hope to reconcile or control all of these extreme views. It seem to me that the Indian, in his native state, possesses but few attributes of a noble character. He is certainly treacherous, cruel and relentless. When his savage nature is aroused, he becomes a very fiend in human form, and treacherously strikes down them who have befriended him the most, especially if they belong to the white race. Yet, that he is capable of civilization, the history of a large number of tribes most fully attests. This change cannot be effected in a day, or a month, but, in its highest degree, requires many years. Under proper instruction and treatment, he can, in process of time, be made an industrious, quiet and Christian human being. It should not be expected that any savage race could, in the short space of one generation, become adepts in the higher degrees of civilization. The most enlightened nations on the face of the globe can hardly claim such rapid advancement. It took centuries to make the Greeks and Romans what they were in the zenith of their prosperity, or the Germans, French and English what they are at present. Why, then, should we expect impossibilities of the American aborigines? My experience goes to prove that in our Indian wars the blame is not always on either side alone. Some times bad men among the Indians kindle the flame; at other times, renegade whites. In the mining regions of the Pacific Coast, the remote and immediate causes of hostilities are too often the abuse of the Indian women by a few bad white men. The lawless acts of the latter have served to give an unjustly bad reputation to the general population of the Pacific Coast. After an experience of nineteen years in this country, I feel proud to say that the permanent settlers have been generally disposed to treat the Indians kindly, and that the abuse of the latter has nearly always been by a few vagabonds and desperadoes, belonging to what is termed here the floating population--especially in our mining regions. We must not, however, cast a stigma upon miners in general because of the bad conduct of a few of their number, any more than we should cry down the occupants of St. Louis, Baltimore, New York, or Boston, because of the acts of lawlessness in their midst. This calumny of cruel treatment is especially unjust to the farmers of the Northwest Coast. Aside from moral considerations, this class of people, having their families with them, have always been particularly careful to avoid arousing the Indian's dreadful revenge. Occasionally the cause is traceable to petty thefts on the part of the Indians, and subsequent harsh punishment from the whites. Again, it is owing to robberies or murders by bad men among the former. The prime instigators in all these troubles generally escape punishment, whilst the peaceably disposed of both races become the innocent victims of contending strife. The spirit of revenge being once aroused in the breasts of the savages, they indiscriminately and cruelly slay every white person within their reach. Then comes the counter feeling of vengeance on the part of the border settlers, who call for the extermination of the Indian race as the only salvation for themselves. It is thus, by the indiscretion or wickedness of a few men, that such intense hatred is so frequently created between our pioneer settlers and their Indian neighbors. Dr. Rodney L. Glisan, Journal of Army Life, 1874, pages 428-432 Indian Tom's Last Hunt.
There was a brave, big-hearted set of fellows among the mountains of
Josephine Co., Oregon, in early times. They were rough,
perhaps, but
soft as women when a comrade was in distress, and as intrepid as
soldiers of the old guard when in dangerous situations. It needed
rough, bold men in those days, for the times were rough, and many a
story is related of the manner in which they stood shoulder to shoulder
for mutual protection. Illinois River, below Kerbyville, was the
wildest and most inaccessible part of the country, but gold in paying
quantities had been found on it, and in 1852, notwithstanding the
mountains through which it ran were a favorite resort for Indians, many
of the boys continued to work on it: One of the strongest parties was
located on the "Pearsall" bar [about
fifteen miles below Kerby],
and one of the number being Aleck W----, a great strapping Western man,
lithe as a cat, steady and unerring in his aim, always carrying a
"pass"' for a redskin in his rifle, and gaining the credit of making
many a "good" Indian. Aleck was a terror to them; their trails were
unsafe, and frequently aboriginal visitors to the Pearsall camp lost
their reckoning and never returned. After the close of hostilities
between the whites and Indians, the latter often visited the camp,
sometimes hunting deer for the boys, and were generally treated fairly,
as they deserved to be. On one occasion, a "black," named Tom,
belonging to the Rogue River tribe, a sulky, ill-favored wretch,
demanded Aleck's gun for a hunt, which was refused, the owner saying he
wanted to hunt on the next day himself. The Indian was offended and
inclined to be saucy, the result was he was driven out of camp in an
angry mood, flinging at Aleck as he went such an angry glance as only a
redskin can give. The menace was instantly recognized, but the old
hunter said nothing. Starting up the mountain on the west side of the
river the next morning, with the snow two feet deep, Aleck hunted
steadily and faithfully till noon. Usually successful, he never was in
such ill luck, but still he labored on in hopes of getting sight of a
deer. Finding he was above the "sign," he made a detour which took him
considerably down the mountains, and then swinging round he crossed his
own track made during the forenoon in the deep snow. There was a
moccasin print in it. The situation at once flashed on the mind of the
hunter; Indians never followed the tracks of another hunter expecting
to find game, and he at once realized that it was himself that was
being hunted. Pushing onward a short distance without leaving anything
to indicate that the moccasin tracks had been discovered, Aleck pressed
through a bunch of brush, and turning abruptly to the left ensconced
himself behind a large clump of manzanita growing on the comb of a
small ridge. Placing his rifle through the branches of his own cover,
so as to command the right point of his broken trail, and lying down in
the snow behind it, he waited. One--two hours passed, till the watcher,
now nearly chilled, thought he waited in vain. The soft snow made no
sound, and he dare not raise himself to even a sitting position for
fear of discovery, but at last his quick ear detected a slight rustle
in the brush and an ugly brown face, made hideous with hatred, and
smeared beneath the eyes to protect them from the glare of the snow,
was in sight. It was his friend of the preceding day. Stopping where
the trail was broken, as if conscious that his game was nigh, he
glanced wildly about, with his eyeballs almost starting from their
sockets, and his gun cocked; but only for an instant. There was a
little white puff of smoke from behind the manzanita cover, the print
of a human form in the snow--an empty wigwam on the river! Leaving the
body where it fell, Aleck took the Indian's yager, broke it across a
tree and flung it into a ravine. Finding a revolver on the Indian, he
detached the cylinder, throwing it in one direction, the stock in
another. Returning homewards, the hunter jumped up several
bands of
deer, but he was nervous and chilled from his uncomfortable vigil, and
he went home empty-handed. Aleck's failure was noticed; but saying that
the sights of his gun had been moved, he quietly lighted his own pipe
and kept his own counsel. A year passed by and still Tom did not make
his appearance. Another year, and still the ugly face was not seen at
the camp. At last one of the boys asked Aleck, "where do you suppose
Tom keeps himself?" "How should I know," was the reply. "Am I my
brother's keeper? Why do you ask?" "O," said his partner, quietly, "I
found some bones up on the mountain yesterday, and kind o' guessed they
were Tom's." "Well," said Aleck, in surprise, "What, do you think he
suicided!" "Yes, I guess so, made a hole dead center between his eyes,
then busted his yager all to flinders and threw it down the gulch,"
laughing, remarked his interrogator. Right there Aleck confessed,
detailing every circumstance, explaining his silence as prompted by the
fear of trouble from White Indians only, and demanded a fair trial.
Being the only witness, and known to be a man of the strictest
veracity, the trial at the camp was short and the verdict--"served the
darned sneak right." Aleck still lives in Josephine County, and often
laughs when he thinks of the little game where the Red tried to outwit
the White.Tuskegee News, Tuskegee, Alabama, January 22, 1880, page 1 The Indian has too much land everywhere, and his conditions are generally unwholesome. The tribal arrangement should cease; the lands should be bought back from them, as was done or agreed upon lately with Moses and the other bands on the Columbia River reservation. The Indians have made some improvement, but not enough. They are, in a measure, dependent, and it is the interest of many persons to keep them so, and especially of the agents in charge of them. General Miles takes sincere interest in them, and his experience has been very general. He took the wildest of Sioux off the war path; gave them land; taught them to till it, and in one season made them self-supporting. That was years ago, and they remain so yet. He takes a liberal and humane view of this important question, and a right one. He has became convinced that the Indian will work; that he is ambitious to learn; that he wishes to be a citizen; and he claims for him that he should become one--a citizen and taxpayer. He asserts that the true policy is to purchase the reservations, locate all Indians in severalty on the public domain, with a proviso that their lands can not be sold for at least twenty-five years; assist them to become self-supporting by making part payment for their lands in farm utensils and building materials, with some sheep and cattle. The Indians will take naturally to stock-raising. Provide them with schools, and endow them with land with individual tenure, and they will possess a manhood and independence they never have had, and never can have under the tribal system and on their reservations. Not long since I saw at Portland a military-looking company in gray marching the street. I was in their rear and remarked the tall, straight, soldierly forms of the boys, and wondered who they were. They proved to be Indian cadets from the school maintained by government at Forest Grove. That school is a credit to the Indian race and an honor to our government. It has proved that the Indian boy and girl are capable of rising in the scale of humanity. There are some touching stories told in connection with it. A year or so ago a blanketed savage brought his boy to go to the school. The lad was unkempt and poorly clad, but he had a bright face and made a good scholar. Last summer he went home for the vacation--changed indeed; his natty uniform became him well; he was a trim-looking lad for any country. But he couldn't recognize the father he expected to meet him. The older Indian, it seems, was afraid this son would be ashamed of him, so he, too, tried to be civilized. He had his long hair cut and bought himself a suit of plain "store clothes." Each was so changed he did not recognize the other for a time, and when they finally met and saw the change time had effected, father and son--stoical sons of the wilds as they were--embraced and wept. The necessity of educating those people is plain enough. It need not be very expensive to do it, either, if we consider that there are abandoned military posts through this department, and others that will soon have to be closed. Several such can be found in this military department, so General Miles tells me, and he further says the Indians can furnish from their farms supplies for the maintenance of their children. It seems impossible to place the Indians where they will not be in the way of the whites and liable to be imposed on by rough characters. No man will dispute the justice of allowing the Indians to locate lands as the whites do, and as they are inclined to be pastoral, they can be allowed enough to afford grazing land on the rougher sections of country. Break up the reservation system; locate every family in severalty, and treat them kindly and reasonably in settling them on their own lands, and we shall have no more Indian question to vex us forever more. General Miles is very earnest in presenting this matter, and takes a deep interest in all that pertains to the Indians. He does not undervalue them, but has great confidence in their desire to become civilized and their ability to achieve civilization. The greatest prejudice now exists against them on the part of many whites, because they find great tracts of rich land lying idle that are set aside as Indian reservations. The overplus of Indian lands, above the needs of the tribes, amounts to millions of acres in this military department. Their lands do not belong to the Indians generally, and they are not encouraged to improve them. The whites feel that it is an outrage that they are not allowed to locate on them. Carry out the policy advocated by Generals Crook and Miles--the two most successful of our Indian-fighting generals--both of whom believe that the Indian deserves good treatment, and will appreciate it if he gets it--and we shall see the Indians removed from all tribal conditions and the attendant superstitions, and become self-respecting citizens. As they stand today, the efforts to improve them are in a measure inoperative. They have no such independence as is necessary to give them self-respect. They have shown a capacity to improve that is deserving of our consideration. If they choose lands, it will be together, in favorite localities, in small valleys, where they can make a community and support schools. When all are located, at least half their best lands will revert to our government and increase the public domain. There will be no conflict between them and the whites--no jealousy. The possibility for their improvement will be greatly increased, and the condition of both whites and Indians will be decidedly advanced. The small remnant of the great tribes that formerly occupied this continent has some claim upon our consideration. If there ever has been an instance where a treaty with Indians was executed promptly and justly, it has been an exception. Our national history--and all history from Columbus until now--has been a record of injustice. It will be tardy justice at the best, but our nation owes it to whites and Indians alike to help the Indians to forsake savagery and induce them to become producing and self-supporting. In many instances they are so already. There is evidence that with proper encouragement they will become good citizens. Let us give them, then, this needed encouragement and opportunity. If the treaties are all abrogated by repurchase of their reservations, and the military department is left to carry out the new policy, in a brief space the Indians will become land owners and citizens and begin to swell the products and increase the wealth of our nation. The latest Indian imbroglio that arose in our region remains yet unsatisfied and illustrates the faults of our Indian policy. Moses was a man of strong character, who drew to himself a large following irrespective of tribal allegiance. He and his people were "dreamers," equivalent to being spiritualists. Much was feared from their superstition, but while it is certain that Moses could have precipitated war on the settlements, he fortunately had too much sense to do it, and restrained his young men. They occupied a wide region of plains in the Big Bend of the Columbia River for some years, but stockmen came in there, and negotiations ended in setting aside over 300,000 acres adjoining the British line for his band and others that were in the way of progress. It was supposed that the rough country given them was entirely out of the white man's way, but mines were discovered near the northern line, and in response to representations President Arthur summarily cut off a million acres from the Columbia River reserve and threw it open for the whites. This was an insult to Moses, as it lessened his influence with his people, who thought he had secured the land for them. His pride was hurt, and all the other Indian bands through the interior were alarmed to see their common rights invaded. The question with them was: "How long before the President will take away our land?" It is easy to perceive the effect on the Indians of all this region. Trouble began to foment; runners were sent about, and disaffection was apparent to the military department. General Miles became very apprehensive. He sent for Moses and had a long talk with the old chief, who bitterly complained of the personal disrespect to himself and the high-handed dishonesty in this act of government. General Miles is one of the most successful of generals in Indian wars, and he also commands respect from the Indians by truly honest treatment of them. He realized the danger, took Moses and some others to Washington, in charge of Captain Baldwin, an experienced officer, who was mainly instrumental in securing a settlement of affairs on a new basis. It was agreed that the Columbia River reserve should be abandoned, and the Indians take up land in severalty where they preferred. Some, who had begun farming on the old reserve, stayed there; others--including Moses and his people--took up land on the Colville Reservation, to the east of the old reservation. The Colvilles have made good advance and live well. Their chief is a remarkable man, who freely welcomes all other Indians to his reserve. By the agreement made at Washington, schools were to be established, mills put up, and farming implements furnished. But for the whole tract of nearly four millions of acres the Indians are to receive benefits to cost less than $100,000. They were delighted with the prospect of schooling their children and becoming civilized. This agreement needs ratification by Congress. The Indians are waiting for their tools, wagons and supplies to begin spring work, and do not dare to finally locate until Congress has ratified the agreement. Here is a simple matter of business that it would seem could be accomplished in an hour, but nothing has been done. The thousands of Indians through the inland country are watching to see whether the government deals fairly with their allies. The different bands that are directly interested present an interesting picture of a savage people anxious and willing to become civilized, waiting with intense apprehension for the fulfillment of the agreement made with them. The military, who have been instrumental in solving the question of peace so favorably, are deeply interested. General Miles recognizes that honorable conduct towards this people is imperatively necessary, and that no other course can safely be pursued. It is creditable both to the head and heart of this distinguished officer that he holds the welfare of the aboriginal race closely at heart, and is deeply interested in securing their progress. His view is the right one--that they should hold land and become citizens, obey the laws and pay taxes, be educated to make citizens, and become producers. This matter of the agreement with Moses and others he considers of great importance. It is now spring* and the Indians need their supplies as agreed, but the government follows the same inert policy as ever, and their interests are neglected. Worse still, the word pledged to them is forfeited. No wonder that they look with scorn upon the President. General Miles once had a conference with some wild plains Indians, and proposed that a delegation should go to Washington. One old chief objected. He had been there once, and "the President had lied to him." The general tried to explain or modify the expression. "No," said the blanketed savage, "the President lied to me; he made promises he did not keep." Time after time he repeated it with scorn, but finally said: "You haven't lied to us yet; we will try you awhile." They did try him, and in response to his advice took land and cultivated it, and from that day those barbarous Sioux have been self-supporting, all because they had confidence in General Miles and followed his counsel. Samuel A. Clarke, "Indians of the Far Northwest," Overland Monthly, October 1884, pages 405-411 Wiped Out.
The death a few days ago at Jacksonville of an aged squaw, the last of
the Rogue River Indians, settles the account between civilization and a
once-powerful tribe, which was opened something like half a century
ago, in the most satisfactory, if not, indeed, the only way in which
such accounts have as yet been permanently settled. There is something
in a degree pathetic in the complete wiping out of a brave and sturdy
people which even the recital of atrocities they have perpetrated upon
peaceful white settlers cannot wholly subdue. Yet, the passing of the
Indian is so manifestly in accordance with nature's great law of
survival of the fittest that an attempt to stay its progress is futile.
The best such efforts have as yet been able to accomplish in full four
hundred years' varied endeavor has been to push these people upon
reservations set apart for their use and herd them there while they
slowly dwindle away--mocking them meanwhile with a pretense at
civilization. It is true that the various schools of the country have
turned out some dozens of young Indians, more or less, well equipped
for the industrial battle of life. But these--especially the young
women among them--have found it so hard to face the altered conditions
to which their school life has presented them that they are scarcely
less objects of pity in the struggle before them and around them than
is the last member of a vanished tribe, waiting in despairing silence
the summons of the "happy hunting grounds."--Portland Oregonian.
Toronto Saturday Night, June 10, 1893, page 14 Reprinted from the Oregonian of May 16, 1893, page 4. The "aged squaw" was known as Indian Jenny. The records of a passing--indeed of a past--race are written in the seamed faces and dreamy attitudes of the "last of the Rogue River Indians," are caught by the camera in their primitive home in Southern Oregon. Aged in appearance beyond their years, listless and indolent, there is yet a suggestion of a story in the faces of these Indians that one cannot regard without pity, even though he applauds the theory of the survival of the fittest, the working out of which these last representatives of a finished tribe attest.--Oregonian. Del Norte Record, Crescent City, January 24, 1903, page 2 |
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