AiWcvavy IIvacIs, Sen.
'arith s the very spice of life,
'I hut gives it all its fhivor.
JilOM TUB . T. nilTICAL HLV1EW
The Son of the I'orcst. A l'oern.
coxtu'.'it:).
The poem opens well. The council
scene the aged oak under which it
is held the tempest and the proud
bearing of Kaskaskias, are described
with beauty and force. Ontwa is cho
sen as messenger of war to Saranac,
Chief of the invading Iroquois, and
invested with the warrior's heron
plume. We pass over Kaskaskia's
parting direction to his son, (which,
though pleasingly written, reminded us
of "Speed, Malisc, speed,0) and the
beautiful adventure of the deer, to
give the picture of Oneyda, the daugh
ter of Saranac whose repose Ontwa
surprises. The wild warrior is struck
with mute admiration, and thinks, in
his rapture, that the sleeping beauty is
a 'spirit sent from liquid cave,' to guide
the favored Saranac. This is a pretty
image : indeed, the whole description
speaks the poet.
Her raven hair, half wrcath'd, descended,
And o'er her face like shadows blended ;
Half veiling charms of fairer hue
Than ever forest daughter knew.
Such locks ne'er deck'd the desert child!
Ne'er bloom'd such cheeks in forest wild !
Not that, the skin of doe, or fawn,
That o'er her fairer neck is drawn,
And all the rising breast conceals,
Which Erie's daughter half reveals.
Trembling, as in my dream I knelt,
And all the awe of worship felt :
" Bright spirit of the air or deep !
Let Ontwa guard thy morning sleep.
This wild rose, blooming o'er thy rest,
I'll pluck to decorate thy breast ;
That kind propiuous sweets may bear
My name to visions rising there."
I gazed, enchain'd by powerful spell,
Till bow and dart forgotten fell,
And Erie and invading host
Were all in one deep feeling lost.
I watch'd the closing of her dreams
To catch her eye's first opening beam-;,
The long dark lashes slowly rose,
As all unwilling to disclose
The light beneath : so fringed height
Oft gives delav to morning's light.
They broke, but oh ! 'twere vain, how faint
"Were tints the gleam of star to paint !
What wonder, that my forest eye
Should deern her spirit of the sky ?
Or, doubt that the red Indian's earth
Could give such shining beauties birth ?
My youthful ear had heard of race,
With form enrob'd and snowy face,
Which, coming from the rising sun,
O'er all the morning world hail run ;
But Ontwa never knew their blood
Had beat in hearts that roved the wood,
Nor that their fairer hues had shed
Their lustre o'er our shadowy red.'
pp. 47, 48.
He is seized as a spy ; but, on pro
ducing the blood-stained weapon, as a
pledge of Erie's ire, he is released, and
suffered to depart. The war dance
which is held on his return, and the
songs of the Chiefs, are among the
best passages in the poem. The ad
ventures of Catawba possess great
beauty, both of poetry and imagination.
The secret march of the Erics, their
battles, and final overthrow, and the
noble death of Kaskaskias, follow in
swift succession, and are related with
animation. Ontwa, the only remnant
of his race which the artillery of their
foes had spared, is destined as a sacri
fice to the insatiable revenge of their
conquerors. Bound to the oak, await
ing the dawn of day as a signal to light
the fire of death, the captive raises his
victim song which we cannot resist
extracting, although we shall exceed
our limits.
Think not Ontwa's spirit shaken ;
Tear can ne'er a throb awaken
Though this form be captive taken,
Still his soul is free.
All your fiery torments scorning,
Pleased he sees the pile adorning,
Which shall send him, with the morinnrr,
Siro and friends to see.
What though Eiie low be lying
And sv voice will e'er be crying
J'or rrvr-nge of Ontwa dying!
Stiii his soul will boast :
Where yen vultures now arc feeding,
Many a foeman's corse lies bleeding,'
Given by Ontwa's dart their speeding :
These" revenge his ghost.
Stars of heaven ! why still ascending ?
Would vour lights were downward bending,
Would the shades of night were ending,
And the day begun.
'By delightful rivers staying,
Krie's gathev'd bands are straying,
Chiding Ontwa's long delaying
Would the niht were done.'
O
v . .
While nis intoxicated guards are
sleeninrr, Onevda releases the Erie,
and, after some hesitation, heroines tht
companion of his ftic-ht. The follow-
ing lines have great sweet;vss and ten
derness : Ontwa is watching the tronb
111 r -v l
ieo sleep ot uneyua, a; slie rests
the forest :
in
'"Sweet sleeper! calm thy !sotis fear
Is not thy watchful warrior near r
The forest sleeps beneath the sun,
The lonely waters calrv.lv rin,
And scarce the insect flutters 'round.
I.est it should wake thee with It? sound.
h'oou as thy broken slumbers em',
Again (v,;r course afar we'll bond.
Launch our lic;ht bark, ami refuge take
In fiiendiier regions o'er the lake.
There, where O:.io's waters press
Their silent way tmoug'i wilderness
And echo, as they wind along,
Only the bird's or hunters song,
On some l;n border of the wild,
I'll shelter thee, thou snjv y child !" '
p. S3.
The prophetic vision of the Indian
girl is fulfilled the fugitives are over
taken by their pursuers, and, in shield
ing her lover, Oneyda receives her
death wound.
'The victor chief tore efT hi3 plume;
The wailing tribe sat down in gloom :
But chief nor tribe could never know,
The depth of Ontwa's silent wo.'
We think we mav safely venture to
encourage our author to pursue the
course, he has with such promise be
gun. He evidently possesses the most
important requisites of a poet imag
ination, taste, and feeling. The pro
duction before us, betrays an unprac
tised hand, and a timidity which has
led him to repress, rather than exert
his powers. We doubt not, that their
full developement, will justify the fa
vorable opinion we have expressed.
The notes which illustrate the poem,
and which are extracted from the man
uscript journal of Governor Cass, of
Michigan, are highly interesting, and
throw considerable light upon the man
ners of the Indian race. Every me
mento of this people who are passing
awav before our eves, should be scru
pulously preserved. The time is fast
apnroachinrc, when there will be noth
ing left of them, hut the recollection
that they once have been. The tide of
emigration (lows rapidly on. It is in
vain that the Indian, reluctantly bar
tering his native hill, retreats from the
white man's dwelling : Scarce is he
settled in deeper forests, than the
swarms of the honey-bee, the faithful
forerunner of civilization, announce to
the savage the approach of the intru
ding strangers. Debased, subdued,
but not civilized, the race is swiftly be
coming extinct. But it is not this
cause alone, which excites curiosity
and interest for the Indian people.
Their varied character the obscurity
which shrouds their origin, and which
is rendered deeper by the antiquities to
be found among them their peculiar
virtues and vites their wild pursuits,
and wilder superstitions their pa
tience in want, fortitude in suffering,
and courage in danger the faithful
ness of their friendship, and the inten
sity of their hate, will ever render them
subjects of interest : and while their
history offers tempting themes for the
poet, it also opens a wide field for the
philosopher. It is not the least re
markable trait in the Indian character,
that it withers at the touch of civiliza- evinced, as he grew up, obtained him
tion. The savage, secluded within his the confidence of the tribe ; and at man
own vast forest, and the savage placed i hood he became, virtually, the Chief of
within the reach of white men's vices, the village. At this time. Father Gor
arc distinct beings. After all that has don, the Catholic priest, struck by the
been planned, ard carried into execu- singularity of the circumstance of a
tion, for the enlightening of the In- white possessing so much influence o
dians what has been done ? Let the ver the Indians, inquired into his his
w retches we often see in our streets, tory, and with some difficulty traced
and the horrid compound of savage his family who joyfully claimed the
and civilized vices, which mark the lost one. After remaining with them
Indian w henever he has come in con- for some time, Common's wild habits
tact with his white brethren, answer j
the question. Amidst all the faults
that stain the wild savage, he is ex
empted from one curse : He is tem
perate, for he has not the knowledge of
intoxirating liquors ; and it is this fatal
gift that the white man brings him,
a gift that poisons every blessing he
would confer. It is well known that,
having once tasted spirit, thev imbibe
for it a passion neither to be overcome
nor satiated. Of the brutalizing el-
fects of this fondness for liquor, they
arc themselves aware ? 44 You brine: mv
people the Bible," said a Chief, "but:
you give us brandy. And it is in
savage, as in civilized nature, to seize
more greedily on the evil than the good.
That they receive the Christian faith,
with coldness, or suspicion, is little to
be wondered at, when we consider the
poor commentary the lives of the gen-
eralitv of persons, calling themselves
Christians, afford, to the truths they
would inculcate. Acuteness of obser
vation is the characteristic of the sav
age, and he is not slow to perceive the
wide difference between the actions of
his civilized instructors, and the sa
cred rules by which they profess to
snide them. The Catholic missiona
ries, by their patience, their never
VVririt'fl Tf:l n 1 t In. ! . n-lnniim m'in.
er sect. But, as the forms of their
worship rather strike the imagination
than touch the heart, we find, that un
less the faith of the wild convert has
been strengthened and continued by
constant attention, it has gradually fa
ded from his mind ; and, at last, the be-
lief has been forgotten, which, perhaps,
was never clearly understood.
The safeguard of the Indian is the
independence of his character. In
this he forms a contrast to the African,
who readily imbibes other customs, and
soon loses his distinguishing traits. .
Not so the Indian ; he retains his ori
ginal habits with great tenacity, and
even if (which has rarely happened) he
becomes civilized, he does not assimi
late with the strangers around him.
He abides with white men as if neither
his heart, nor home, was among them,
and is scarce ever firm enough to with
stand the temptation of returning to his
natural habits. The instance of Peter
Otsekett, the protege of the Marquis
De L.a Favette, who was instructed
by the most polished masters in Paris,
and had made some progress in acquir
ing the accomplishments of refinement
vet, who returned to his native
woods, threw of the dress and manners
of civilized men, and sunk into a
drunken and ferocious savage, speaks
volumes.
That there is a charm in their mode
of living, that retains the Indians, and
even allures the white man, has often
been observed. We have heard a
scientific foreigner, whose pursuits led
to a residence of some months among
the Indians, assert, that those were as
happy days as he had known. He de
scribed the chief attraction of their
life as arising from a perfect absence
of care, and exemption from all those
irksome, artificial restraints of society,
and petty vexations and intrigues,
which harrass the life of civilized man.
It must, however, be allowed, that the
feelings of this person might have
been verv different, if he had looked
forward to the prospect of spending
his lite with these people, and bidden
farewell to the delights of refined con
versation, and that pleasure which the
acquirement of knowledge brings.
The history of the founder of St.
Regis, is a strong example of the at
tachment which the Indian life inspires.
His name was Cammon. When a j
mere boy, rambling with his sister, a 1
girl of fourteen, in the woods, near the
settlement of Caughnawaga, they were
surprized by a party ot Indians. J he ;
girl, in attempting to climb a tree in
order to conceal herself, fell, and
broke her arm. The savages seized
the boy, but probably not caring to be
troubled with the wounded girl, left
her to find her way home as well as
she could. The Indians, according to
their custom, adopted their little pris
oner, and educated him in their own
habits. The quickness and talents he
prevailed, and he quitted the comforts
of civilized life, for the freedom ot the
children of the forest. He found,
however, that his absence had given
offence, and excited jealousy among
the Indians, and that manv of them
regarded him with unfriendly eyes.
Under these circumstances, Father
Gordon advised him to select the most
attached of his friends, and form a new
' settlement. He accordingly followed
this counsel, and founded the village of
St. Regis. He married an Indian wo
man, and left a large family of sons,
who have the influence, if not the rank,
of Chiefs among the Indians.
The various and wild superstitions
of the Indians, at once refute the as
sertion, that thev have no imagination.
The extravagance ar.d absurdity of
some of their tales is only to be equal
led by the implicit belief with w hich
they receive them. Their dreams are
oracles. Governor Cass savs :
fcThe Indians h;ve great confidence
in dreams : They are considered as the
immediate manifestations of the will of
the Great Spirit ; and it is almost im
possible to persuade them to disregard
m
these impressions. 1 he most impor
tant expeditions are sometimes stopped
and turned back, by a dream of one of
thearty. In the year 1778, a party
of about one hundred Chippewa war
riors, led by a Chief named Wa-be-gon-a,
left Detroit upon a war excur
sion against the infant settlements of
Kentucky. During the march, war
rior after warrior abandoned the party,
affected by the dreams w hich they had,
or feigned to have j until the number
was reduced to twenty-three. When
they arrived upon the Ohio, they struck
a road apparently much travelled. They
watched this road some time ; but not
meeting with any success, they return
ed, and proceeded one day's march to
wards home. On the evening of this
day, a British interpreter, who was
with the party, remonstrated against
their return, and urged the Chief to
remain in the country, until they could
strike the Americans. He dwelt upon
topics obvious to the Indians; and rep
resented the disgrace which would at
tend an unfortunate expedition. The
Chief finally consented to refer the
question to a dream. He prepared
himself for the approaching communi
cation, and in the morning stated that
the Great Spirit had appeared to him,
and had directed him to watch the road
again, until a party of the Americans
should pass. The Indians returned
with great confidence, stationed them
selves upon the road, and there remain
ed until a party approached upon
whom they fired. They took two scalps
and three prisoners.
' It was not difficult to perceive that
this road was daily travelled, and the
Chief hazarded little in advising his
warriors to watch it. The whole plan j
was probably contrived .between him
and the interpreter, to restore confi
dence to the dispirited party.
' It is obvious that the minds of the
Indians are prepared for these impres
sions. Fasting, watching, long con
versations and intense reflection upon
the subject, produce the very result of
which they are in pursuit. They dream
because their faculties, intellectual and
corporeal, are in a state of excitement
most favorable to such an object.
The most interesting and perplexing
circumstances, concerning the Indians,
are the antiquities found among them,
and of which they can give no account ;
or one so vague and unsatisfactory, as
rather to bewilder, than aid, the inquir
er. That the works which have been
discovered in various parts of the coun
try, are vestiges of a people far supe-
rior to the present race, is evident ;
but what their destiny and fate their
names and customs are questions,
in answer to which every thing may
e corjeciureti, out notning proved
fhe author's remarks on these antiqui
ties are appropriate ; but he could not
be expected to throw much light on
the obscurity that surrounds them. Of
the man-eating society, a very curious
description is given ; and there appears
not to be the slightest doubt of the
truth of its former existence.
The practice of cannibalism being
abhorrent to every feeling of our na
ture, and the many instances, where
the most plausible stories, on severe
scrutiny, have been proved to be false,
had caused us to lend an unbelieving
ear to tales of this kind. That the
transports of rage or revenge have urg
ed men to vent their fury, by mangling
the dead bodies of their enemies, we
unhappily have no need of examining
Indian customs to prove: we have in
stances enough of such brutality in
civilized men. But we do not think
that man, even in his most savage state,
ever fed upon his fellow-men, merely
to satisfy his appetite : We have nev
er heard a well-authenticated instance
of it, where it could not be traced, ei
ther to the desperation of famine, or
to the cruelty of revenge. The insti
tution which existed among the Miamis
and Kickapoos, is robbed of some of
its horror, by the solemn and religious
air which attended its ceremonies.
We must, however, agree with the au
thor, that " no parallel to it can be found
among the other tribes, nor perhaps in
the whole record of human depravity, i
A society existed, called 44 the man
eaters," whose duty it was to eat any
prisoners, devoted to this horrible pur
pose by those who captured them.
This society was co-eval with the ear
liest traditions of either tribe ; and the
institution was associated with relig
ious sentiments, and with feelings of
reverence, in the minds of the Indians.
Its members belonged to one family,
called 44 the bear," which, however, in
cluded many individuals. They were
admitted into the society bv a secret
and solemn initiation, and with manv
imposing ceremonies. This right, or
duty, for I cannot ascertain in which
light the admission was viewed, ex
tended to males and females ; and the
whole number, at the period to which
my information relates, was about tlO.
But I am ignorant whether there was
any limitation of number, except by
the exclusion of individuals from the
sacred family.
4 On ordinary occasions, when a pris
oner is sacrificed, it is done to gratify
the revenge of the near relations of u
fallen wrarrior : But when these rela
tives are strongly excited, either in
consequence of the natural strength of
their passions, or of a peculiar attach
ment to the deceased, or of any uncom
mon circumstances attending his death,
the prisoner is then sentenced to a spe
cific death, and to be delivered to the
4 4 Man-eaters." They take possession
of him, and execute him in conformi
ty with the sentence. After being de
livered to them, there is no power to
ransom him : His fate is irreversibly
fixed.'
One of the members of this society,
called " White Skin," an influential
Miami Chief, is yet living. But the
institution itself has disappeared ; and
such is the change in the feelings of
the Indians upon these subjects, that
he is sometimes reproached with thin
connexion, formerly so much venera
ted and respected. It has been stated
that the celebrated Chief, Little Turtle,
was active in the abolition of this hor
rible practice. Such an exertion wras
in unison with his character and prin-ples.'
Wdigums.
IROX IIAXXAII MORE.
What a support in the dreary season of
sickness is it to reflect, that the Captain of
our salvation was made perfect through
suffering ; that if we suffer with him we
shall also reign with him, which implies
also the reverse, that if we do not suffer
with him, we shall not reign with him;
that is, if we suffer merely because we
cannot help it, without reference to him,
without suffering for his sake and in his
spirit. If it be not sanctified suffering it will
avail but little- Wc shall not be paid for
havinqr suffered, as in the creed of too
many, but our mcctness for the kingdom
of glory will be increased if we suffer ac
cording to his will and after his example.
He who is brought to serious reflection
by the salutary affliction of a sick bed, will
look back with astonishment on bis former
fa'sc estimate of worldly things. Riches 1
Beauty ! Pleasure I Genius ! Fame !
what are they in the eyes of the sick and
dving.
Riches 1 These are so far from afford
ing him a moment's ease, that it will be
well if no former misapplication of them
aggravate his present pains. He feels as
if he only wished to live that he might
henceforth dedicate them to the purposes
for which they were given.
Beauty ! What is beauty, he cries, as
he considers his own sunk eyes, hollow
cheeks, and pallid countenance. He ac
knowledges with the Psalmist, that the
consuming of beauty is 44 the rebuke with
which the Almighty corrects man for his
sin."
Genius I What is it? Without reli
gion genius is but a lamp on the gate of
a Palace. It may serve to cast a gleam
of light on those without, while the inhab
itants sit in darkness.
Pleasure 1 That has not left a trace
behind it. " It died in the birth, and is
not, therefore, worthy to come into this
bill of Mortality."
Fame ! Of this his very soul acknowl
edges the emptiness. He is astonished
how he could ever be so infatuated as to
run after a sound, to court a breath, to
pursue a shadow, to embrace a cloud
Augustus, asking his friends as they sur
rounded his dying bed, if he had acted his
part well, on their answering in the affir
mative, cried fdautihe. But the acclama
tions of the whole universe would rather
mock than sooth the dying Christian if
unsanctioned by the hope of divine appro
bation. He now rates at its iust value
that fame which was so often eclipsed by
envy, and which will be so soon forgotten
in death. He has no ambition left but
for heaven, where there will be neither
envy, death, nor forgetfulness.
When capable of reflection, the sick
Christian will revolve all the sins and er
rors of his past life ; he will humble him
self for them as sincerely as if he had ne
ver repented of them before ; and implore
the divine forgiveness as fervently as if he
did not believe they were long since for
given. The remembrance of his former
offences will grieve him, but the humble
hope that they are pardoned will fill him
" with joy unspeakable and full of glory.
Mankind live all in masquerade : he, therefore,
who mixes with them unmasked is always ill re
ceived, and commonly uLused by the whole as-sembJv.