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Selected Works of Mabel Washbourne Anderson
Edited by Catherine McCurdy and James W. Parins
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Mabel Washbourne
Anderson descended from two well-known families in Cherokee history. Her paternal grandfather was founder of Dwight Mission to the
Cherokees, and her maternal grandfather was John Ridge, the well-known leader of
the Treaty Party of Cherokees. Anderson
attended Cherokee public schools, graduation from the Cherokee Female Seminary
in 1883. Upon graduation, she
became a teacher at Vinita, where in 1891 she married John C. Anderson.
The family moved to Pryor Creek in 1904, living there until 1930 when
they moved to Tulsa. Anderson
taught in the public schools throughout this period.
In the early 1890s she also began to write for local newspapers and to
make presentations before local literary societies.
Some of her works were picked up by out-of-territory publications.
In the early years of this century, Anderson contributed to Indian
Territory and Oklahoma magazines and newspapers and in 1915 published a
biography of her grandfather’s cousin, the well-known Cherokee general, Stand
Watie. The biography, like much of
her writing, including the biographical article on Watie reprinted here,
reflects the tendency among Cherokee writers of her generation to romanticize
Cherokee national heroes. That
romanticism may also be discerned in her poetry and fiction.
General
Stand Watie
By Mabel Washbourne Anderson
Chronicles of Oklahoma,
December, 1932
America has done scant justice on the pages of history
to the first citizens of this country, the North American Indian.
It is a matter of regret and a loss to posterity that we possess
comparatively so little written matter of the life and traditions of the Five
Civilized Tribes, whose achievements made possible the earliest history of
Oklahoma. Research students know
that the history of the country, embraced within the boundaries of this state,
began with its Indian civilization long before the run of 1889, or the later
advent of statehood, relating in fact, to the old tribal nations in the
different states from which they came to re-establish their governments in the
now Indian Territory. From the
background and fertile soil of this civilization, blossomed in all its magic
growth and progress, the young star, Oklahoma.
General Stand Watie was one of the most influential
characters in the early history of Oklahoma.
Some of the salient points in his eventful career will, no doubt, be of
interest to readers of the Chronicles. He
was a North American Indian, one of the noblest sons of the Five Civilized
Tribes. His courage and military
prowess were known far beyond the limits of his activities, and his loyal
service and constructive influence were a potent force in the history of his
people.
He was born at the Watie home on the Coo-see-wa-tee stream in the old
Cherokee Nation in Georgia, near the present site of the city of Rome, December
12, 1806. His kinsmen were among
the prominent leaders of his people, his father David Oowatie, being the younger
brother of Major Ridge, a well-known chief and orator of the Cherokees.
His mother, Susannah, a descendant of Charles Reese of North Carolina,
was one-half Cherokee and like her husband spoke the Indian language altogether.
She was a member of the Moravian Church, the first to establish missions
among the Cherokees. His father, a
quiet, retiring man took no active part in National affairs, either in the old
or new country. General Stand Watie
was one of eight children, three daughters and five sons, two of who rose to
places of eminence in their tribe.
In
those days a Cherokee child was usually given an Indian name with some special
meaning and sometimes an English name as well.
Often these personal names, or their English interpretation, were taken
as surnames which accounts for the difference in the family names of own
brothers, as in the case of Watie, Ridge, and Boudinot, though this last was an
adopted name as is explained later in this sketch. The given name of General Watie is especially significant.
At his birth he was called “Takertawker” meaning “To stand firm;
immovable.” Surely an appropriate
name for one so steadfast in character and so ready to support his convictions
of right at any cost.
Watie spoke only his native tongue until twelve years of age, when his parents
sent him to the little Moravian school at Spring Place where he simplified the
spelling of Oowatie, dropping the “Oo”; and though his mother had named him
”Isaac” also, he retained the English meaning of his Cherokee name,
“Stand,” and ever afterward wrote his name simply “Stand Watie.”
The family name from that date was always spelled “Watie,” often mis-spelled
“Waite.”
His
brother Elias, and his cousin John Ridge, were sent East to school, but
Watie’s education was limited to the meager advantages of his own nation.
This is proof of the fiber of his intellect and ability, for he attained
a distinguished place as soldier, statesman, and leader despite this educational
handicap. He was never an orator,
even in his native tongue, but wrote with ease, as is characteristic of the
Indian.
General Watie was a man of action and few words.
No one ever rose to a place of such importance who had less to say.
He was not a handsome man as was his brother, Elias, but his features
gave evidence of the strength of his character and courage.
His friendships were slowly made but loyally retained.
His sympathies were easily touched.
Little children loved him and the needy were glad to call him friend.
To better understand this remarkable man who was so intimately associated
with the Cherokees during the most turbulent period of their history, both in
the old nation and the new, it is necessary to touch briefly upon some of the
contemporary events which so profoundly affected his life.
At
the time of Watie’s early manhood, the Cherokees, due to certain factors, had
reached a high state of culture and civilization among the North American
Indians. Missions were more common
among them; many of their young men had been sent away to school, often to
Eastern colleges and returned to lend more progressive ideas.
Sequoyah had invented the Cherokee alphabet.
At New Echota, Georgia, their national capital, the first newspaper ever
printed in both English and an Indian language had been established, with Elias
Boudinot, Stand Watie’s elder brother, as first editor.
This brother earlier known as “Buck Watie,” a name originating from
his Cherokee name which meant “Male Deer,” had been educated by a well known
philanthropist, Dr. Elias Boudinot,[1]
of Princeton, New Jersey, with the request the boy should take his name.
This Buck Watie did and when his education was completed he returned to
his own country, where he was destined to play so influential and tragic a part.
His descendants, some of whom still reside in Oklahoma, retained the mane
of Boudinot.
Watie was thirty-one years old when he emigrated with family and kindred to the
new Territory, now Oklahoma. Though
he was clerk of the Cherokee National Supreme Court in 1829, he had taken little
part in politics. The more active
and eventful years of his life followed the emigration.
The
story of the exodus of the Cherokee and other Southern Indians is a subject in
itself, and too involved to include in any detail here.
Two factions or parties arose among the Cherokees over the question of
removal, one headed by Major Ridge, John Ridge, and Elias Boudinot known as the
Ridge or Treaty party. This party
advocated a treaty of removal with the United States Government, not from choice
but as an acceptance of the inevitable, the oppression of their people having
become unbearable. The other
faction known as the Anti-Treaty party, headed by John Ross, then principal
chief of the Cherokees, opposed a treaty of removal.
This difference and division led to bitterness and tragedy, as is ever
the case when feuds arise within a nation.
The
final result, emigration, was inevitable from the first, and history has proved
the wisdom and foresight of those who advocated removal at the price of their
personal safety. Unfortunately, the
enmity and lust for power occasioned by the controversy, was carried from the
old nation into the new by the Ross party, and this finally culminated in the
tragic assassination in one night of Major Ridge, John Ridge, and Elias
Boudinot, three of the most powerful men in the nation.
Stand Watie was slated to die the same night, but was away from home and
so escaped.
Responsibilities seem to gravitate to the shoulders that will carry them.
Although burdened and saddened by the fearful murder of his uncle,
cousin, and beloved brother, Stand Watie now became the acknowledged leader of
the Ridge or Treaty party.
This tragic event proved a turning point in the career of Watie, one that thrust
him from the home life he loved into a position of activity and prominence in
the political affairs of his people. Unshaken
by feuds and factions, which constantly threatened his life, from that time on
his power, purpose, and courage proved of lasting influence.
The
internal difficulties of the Cherokees were finally settled by the Treaty of
1846, and Watie as a leader of his party played a prominent part in bringing
about this treaty, which ushered in a brief era of peace and prosperity for the
Cherokees. He was speaker of the
Council from 1857 to 1859, and a member of the Council from 1846 to 1861.
Stand Watie was married in the new Nation, September 18, 1842 to Sarah Bell.
The two families were friends of long standing, and his wife’s
brothers, Colonel Jim Bell and Jack Bell, were schoolmates of Watie.
Of this union there were three sons, Saladin, Solon, and Cumiska, and two
daughters, Minnee and Jacqueline. His
home life was congenial and very happy, darkened only by the unfortunate
political conditions of his time, and the separations and suffering occasioned
later by the War of 1861.
In
the years that intervened, from the Treaty of 1846 until the outbreak of the
war, Watie had some time to devote to his personal interests and fortune.
He accumulated some valuable properties, and built a number of
substantial homes. During this
interval he lived quietly, enjoying the love and esteem of his neighbors and
friends.
This era of peace, all too brief, was broken by the shadow of suffering and
division into which the war plunged the entire nation. In the conflict that followed Stand Watie naturally assumed
the place of leadership, for which he was so well qualified.
A Southerner by birth and breeding, he unhesitatingly cast his lot with
the Confederacy.
The
military career of General Watie comprises the whole of the Confederate History
of the Indian Territory. Many
people have believed, erroneously, that little war activity took place in the
Indian Territory, and that that little was in the nature of guerilla warfare.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Long before the Treaty of 1861, made with General Pike as Indian
Commissioner of the Confederacy, large numbers of the Cherokees and whites had
offered their lives to the cause of the Confederacy, and pledged to follow where
Watie led.
So
at the very outbreak of the war, Stand Watie had organized, and been made
Captain of a troop of Cherokees and whites, for the purpose of protecting the
Indian Territory, especially the Cherokee Border, from the Federal forces
stationed at Humbolt, Kansas. Between
this point and the Cherokee Nation were the Osage Indians, who were nearly all
Unionists, and ancient enemies of the Cherokees.
There is no doubt that the wisdom and timely action of Watie and his men
saved his people during these early days from even greater hardships than those
they later experienced.
In
May, 1861, Watie offered his services to General McCulloch of Texas, who had
been given the command over the military district of the Indian Territory.
His offer was gladly accepted. He
was given a Colonel’s commission and authorized to raise an Indian regiment,
which was known as “The Cherokee Mounted Rifles.”
Watie received high commendation from General McCulloch, and was ever in
harmony with his superior officers, and acting under regular army orders.
At
the beginning of the war, John Ross, as principal chief, had signed the Treaty
of Alliance with the Confederacy, but afterwards renewed his policy of
friendship with the Federal government, and went to Washington, where he
remained until the close of the conflict, the Cherokee nation being left at this
crucial period without an official head.
In 1862 a National Convention of the Cherokees was held, at which time
John Ross was deposed from office of principal chief, and Stand Watie elected to
succeed him. Federal members of the
Council, said to have constituted a quorum, refused to recognize the election;
but from that time on the Cherokees had two tribal governments, and all official
business of the United States Government with the Southern Cherokees at the
close of the war, was conducted through Stand Watie as their head.
Space does not permit details of any of the battles fought on Indian Territory
soil---some eighteen or twenty in number, in which Stand Watie and his command
did such heroic service. Some of
these engagements were in important battles that took place on the borders of
Arkansas and Missouri, but the larger number occurred in such familiar
localities in Oklahoma as Fort Gibson, Webbers Falls, Bird Creek north of Tulsa,
Muskogee and nearby points. His men
declared that General Waite and his Indian Brigade marched over as many miles,
had as many independent conflicts and skirmishes, captured as many trains of
wagons, horses and mules as any one brigade west of the Mississippi.
Stand Watie showed such efficiency as a leader and commander, that on May 10,
1864, he received from President Davis the appointment of Brigadier General in
the Confederate Army, and later was brevetted.
Except for Alexander McGillivray, who was commissioned as General in the
United States Army in 1790, Stand Watie is said to be the only North American
who ever attained this rank. He was
the only Indian to receive this distinction in either the Union or Confederate
Army.
After this promotion, the Indian Territory troops were re-organized with General
Watie as Commander-in-Chief, being known as General Watie’s Indian Brigade,
and included all Confederate Cherokees, as well as Creek and Seminole Troops,
the Choctaws and Chickasaws being largely under the command of General Douglass
Cooper, though they too were later attached to Watie’s command.
As many know, General Watie had the honor of making the last surrender of
the war, which occurred at Doaksville, in the Choctaw Nation, June 23, 1865,
nearly three months after the surrender of General Lee.
When the dark shadow of Reconstruction days enveloped the South, no section was
found to have suffered greater devastation than the Cherokee Nation, for that
region, though small and remote, had been occupied by both armies.
What had been a scene of prosperity and rapid progress in 1861 was now
almost a destitute wilderness. The losses of the Union Indians were provided for
by the United States Government, but the Southern Cherokees had not only the
loss of property, but also of citizenship to reclaim.
It was during these days that General Watie proved a savior as well as a
leader of his people. Throughout
the war he had taken upon himself the task of rescue and relief for helpless
Confederate families, and now he took upon himself the gigantic burden of
alleviating the distress of reconstruction, extending his personal help and
financial aid to all he could.
Internal discord, as well as the hardships resulting from the war again beset
the Cherokees. The Northern branch
confiscated the property of the Southern Cherokees, and denied them the right of
suffrage. General Watie with many
other prominent Cherokees was untiring in his efforts to bring about harmony and
the restoration of the rights of the Southern branch.
The controversy was finally settled by the Treaty of 1866 which procured
re-instatement of the Southern Cherokees, but at a costly price to them.
Many phases of this treaty were objectionable, but the most unjust clause
was that which demanded of the Southern Cherokees an equal division of his lands
and inheritances with his former slaves and their posterity, which was not
required from any other Southern state.
The
war ended, his people reinstated as citizens, General Watie retired from the
public life which Fate had thrust upon his home-loving nature.
Impaired in health, and broken in fortune, he engaged for a time in the
mercantile business in Webbers Falls, Oklahoma, later moving to his farm near
Bernice, where he spent his remaining years.
Sadness and suffering did not end with the close of the war for General Watie.
His youngest son had died while a refugee in Texas, and in 1868, Saladin,
his eldest son, was taken after a brief illness.
Solon died just one year later. The
loss of these sons, so full of promise, forms the saddest page in the life of
this great man. His magnificent constitution had been weakened by the
hardships of war, and these sorrows which followed so rapidly seemed to hasten
the end which came to his own courageous spirit September 9, 1871, while on a
visit to his old home on Honey Creek. He
was buried with Masonic honors not far from this home, in the old Ridge
cemetery, Delaware County, Oklahoma. His
daughters did not long survive him. His
wife, who had been such a faithful companion to him, died in 1883.
It has been the privilege and pleasure of the Southern women of Oklahoma,
through their Division of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, to pay a long
neglected tribute to the memory of Stand Watie by erecting a simple, yet
dignified, monument at his grave, and a large and beautiful memorial on the
Cherokee Capitol grounds at Tahlequah, where once his power and influence were
so potently felt.
A
careful search of the official war records reveals nothing but praise and
commendation for Watie. Some of the
finest tributes paid him as a man and an officer came from the North, as well as
from the men who served under him. In
return for the justice and consideration he accorded his soldiers, they gave him
a devotion that was touching in its loyalty, from the highest in rank down to
Dutch Billy, the bugler and John, the Swedish cook.
In
this connection I am reminded of the many stories told me by “his boys” as
they called themselves, and indeed, most of them were mere boys when they
enlisted. Of how after long and
wearisome marches, food being scarce, he would refuse some specially prepared
dish, because his men could not share it. How
often they had awakened at night to find him sitting by the fire, his blanket
covering some soldier who needed it.
He
never ordered a charge that he did not lead; yet he never received a wound in
battle. The full bloods believed
that he possessed a charmed life and no bullet was ever molded that could kill
him. His personal acts of courage
furnished full foundation for this belief and his name stands for the very
definition of bravery among his people today.
To
students of the subject perhaps no Indian character appeals with such great
force as that of Stand Watie. He
was indeed a man of powerful personality and magnetism, with a courage and
integrity as stalwart and changeless as the granite rocks of his native hills.
He was ready as his life shows to make any sacrifice, compatible with
honor for the good of his people. He
did not thirst for pomp or glory but gave his great heart to duty as he saw it.
Simplicity, sincerity and service symbolize his greatness.
Sketches
of Famous Indians
By Mabel Washbourne Anderson.
Sturm’s Oklahoma Magazine,
July of 1906
About the year 1820 the American Board, of Boston,
decided to educate a number of Cherokee boys at Cornwall, Connecticut.
Among this limited number were John Ridge and Buck Watie, who were first
cousins, or half brothers, as they were called in the old days when first
cousins belonged to the same Indian clan.
Their ancestors were distinguished for their valor in war and their
eloquence and sagacity in the councils of their tribe.
The Indian name for Watie was Kille-ka-wah, afterwards translated into
Wati-Whitch, which means the buck or male deer.
Buck Watie was afterward called Elias Boudinot, after a distinguished
missionary of that name, who in a manner adopted and educated him.
A name which he retained until his death, and which has been perpetuated
by his posterity. Hence the origin
of the Cherokee family name of Boudinot, which in reality is Watie.
Buck Watie and John Ridge were full-blood Cherokees, and both married
eastern girls, the former a Miss Gould and the latter Miss Sarah Northrop.
Elias Boudinot (Buck Watie), proved himself to be an able writer, and was
the first editor of the Phoenix,
published in the old nation in Georgia, the first issue of which was printed in
February, 1828. This paper was
afterward called the “Cherokee[Phoenix
and Indians’] Advocate,”
and was the first and only newspaper ever printed one-half in English and
one-half in Cherokee. This paper,
established so many years ago, was published in this form and under this name
until very recently, at the tribal capital, Tahlequah.
Elias Cornelius Boudinot was the son of Buck Watie
and Harriet Gold, and was born in the old nation in Georgia not far from the
present city of Rome, in 1835. He
was educated in the east and began the practice of law in early manhood.
Shortly afterwards he assumed the editorship of
Arkansas[2],
published at Fayetteville, Ark. Leaving
this city he went to The True Democrat[3].
The editorials of both these newspapers marked him as a man of more than
ordinary ability.
In 1861 he was secretary of the convention which linked the fate of
Arkansas with the southern confederacy. At the close of the convention he went to the Cherokee nation
and organized a regiment of Cherokees for the Confederate army.
He was elected major of the regiment; afterwards lieutenant colonel, his
uncle, Stand Watie, being brigadier general by appointment from Jefferson Davis.
Col. Boudinot represented the Cherokees at Richmond, Va., as a delegate
to the congress of the Confederate States.
He served in the congress until the end of the war.
In the cities of Virginia, as elsewhere, he made himself a welcome guest
by his accomplished and charming manner, his musical talent, and his
ever-interesting conversation.
After the close of the war he took an active part in the treaty of 1866
between the Cherokees and the United States government concerning the
restoration of the tribal rights of the Cherokees, who were threatened with
forfeiture because of their participation in the war.
He represented the Cherokees in Washington after the treaty was made, and
was the first to advise, since the death of his kinsman, John Ridge, the
allotment of lands in severalty among his people.
For these and other advanced ideas he was exiled from the Cherokee nation
for many years, during which he made the city of Washington his home, for life
in the national capital was attractive to a man of his intelligence and social
qualifications. Here he was married
in 1885 to Miss Clara Minear, who still survives him, residing upon their
plantation on the southern borders of the Cherokee nation near Fort Smith, Ark.
Those of the Cherokees who would have persecuted Boudinot for his
political views look upon him now, in the chaotic condition of their government,
as the wisest leader of his day. Not
as a lawyer, a statesman, or a man of advanced ideas has the name of Col.
Boudinot endeared itself to his people, but he possessed to a marked degree the
rare and admirable quality of loving his fellow men, and was by them beloved.
He was a fascinating exponent of interesting conversation, sentiment, and
song. The beauty and poetry of his nature found its happiest
expression in his songs.
He
was gifted to an unusual degree in the recitation of dramatic and poetic
selections, but his songs were his best beloved friends, and those who have been
enraptured by them were among the most honored of our land—Gen. Sherman, Gen.
Albert Pike, Senator Voorhees, and others of equal note.
Gen. Pike and Senator Voorhees were among his warmest and closest
friends.
Among his personal effects he left many interesting mementos of his friendships
in the way of photographs, etc. His
manuscripts, or “letter scrap book,” now in the possession of his widow,
contain letters from many people of note.
The celebrated sculptress, Vinnie Ream Hoxie, was his early love, and
this friendship continued to the day of his death.
Vinita, one of the promising cities of the Cherokee nation, had its name
changed at the instigation of Col. Boudinot, and christened for this famous
woman, the former name for the town being Downingville, after the Cherokee chief
of that name.
Few
indeed, of his race, have ever stood so high socially as the gifted Boudinot,
nor received so profusely the attentions usually bestowed upon genius.
He died, after a brief illness, at Fort Smith, Arkansas, September 25,
1890, and was buried with Masonic honors.
Who
among us that have ever heard him sing, “ Have you seen the Red Rose on its
Bonnie Green Stem,” or “I Love Thee,” or heard him read Gen. Pike’s
“Every Year,” can ever forget it? Better
than all the dull cold monuments of marble or stone he lives in the hearts of
those who loved him.
Scott’s “Coronach,” which he so often sang,
forms a fitting close to this brief sketch:
“He is gone from the mountain,
He
is lost to the forest;
Like a summer dried fountain,
When
our need was the sorest.
The fount reappearing
From
the raindrops shall borrow;
But to us comes no cheering,
To
Duncan no morrow.
Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou art gone, and
forever!”
The Southern Artist
By Mabel Washbourne Anderson
Sturm’s Oklahoma Magazine,
June-July, 1907.
One of the most
familiar pictures of the South is that of “The Arkansas Traveler,” while the
musical air of that name is almost as widely known and recognized as
“Dixie,” the beloved ode of the Southland.
Though this picture is so commonly seen in the homes of the South and
West, yet there are few paintings—with which the public is
familiar—concerning whose origin so little is known.
Edward Pason Washbourne, the painter of the original
picture, was Arkansas’ earliest artist of ability, and the picture depicts a
perfect type of the cabin of a squatter in the wilderness of Arkansas, more than
eighty years ago. Many a local
colloquialism has found its origin in the supposed conversation that took place
between the “Squatter” and the “Traveler.”
This humorous dialogue was printed in sheet music form and appeared
shortly after the completion of the painting and was usually sold in connection
with the lithographs.
The lost and bewildered “Arkansas Traveler” who
approached the cabin and found the proprietor seated on an old whiskey barrel
playing the fiddle, as shown in the picture, was Col. S. C. Faulkner, author of
the story and the musical air, “The Arkansas Traveler,” a man well known in
that section of Arkansas at that time.
The stranger and the
hoosier engaged in conversation and quite a lengthy dialogue takes place between
them, a portion of which is as follows:
(Stranger): As I am not
likely to reach another house tonight, can you let me stop with you?
(Squatter):
My house leaks, there’s only one dry spot in it, and Sal and me sleep
on that.
(Stranger):
Well, why don’t you finish covering your house and stop the leaks?
(Squatter):
It’s been raining all day.
(Stranger):
Well, why don’t you do it in dry weather?
(Squatter):
It don’t leak then.
This pertinent reply has created an adage
familiar in almost every section of the country.
Opie Reed, the novelist,
called the newspaper which he founded in Little Rock, Arkansas, after this
picture, a paper still published under the title “The Arkansas Traveler.”
Thus the picture and its title have been kept before the public for
almost half a century.
Quite an amusing incident, in connection with this famous picture
occurred in one of the large towns of the Indian Territory recently, and shows
the ignorance among the masses concerning the picture and its origin.
The wife of a well-to-do
cattle man had moved into town from the ranch and previous to her coming had
directed the husband to make some purchases in the way of furniture and parlor
ornaments. Among other things a
handsome copy of “The Arkansas Traveler” had been selected and paid for, but
the good wife denounced the painting in emphatic terms, declaring that no
picture with “whiskey” marked upon it should grace her walls.
It was vain for the clerk to expostulate and endeavor to explain what the
picture was and the period it represented.
She was obdurate and he was told to keep the picture and to sell it for
whatever he chose.
In consequence a certain young lady possessed herself of the same for a
mere song. As a fitting climax to
the ludicrous incident the old lady gave the proceeds to the cause of Foreign
Missions.
Rev. Cephas
Washbourne,
father of the artist, was associated with Dr. Kingsbury, Dr. Worcester and
others of missionary fame among the Indians.
Dr. Washbourne was long and extensively known as the superintendent of
Dwight Mission among the Cherokees of Arkansas.
He gave the name of “Dwight” to this mission in honor of Dr. Dwight,
a distinguished divine and friend of missions.
In 1818
Tol-on-tus-ky, the
principal chief of the Arkansas Cherokees, requested Jeremiah Evans, treasurer
of the American Board of Missions, to found a mission among his people, and in
the autumn of that year Mr. Washbourne was sent by that board as agent to the
old nation in Georgia in which capacity he labored for one year.
In the fall of 1819 he was instructed to commence his journey to Arkansas
and found a mission among the Cherokees. In November, 1819, in company with his associate
missionaries, Mr. Washbourne began his journey to the wilds of Arkansas, for at
that time Arkansas was a perfect “terra incognita” and the way to get there
was unknown. After fourteen days’
travel they reached the Mississippi at a point called Walnut Hills, where
Vicksburg now stands. On this
journey to his missionary field, Mr. Washbourne stopped at the post of Arkansas,
which was then the seat of the government of the Territory of Arkansas.
From thence he came to Little Rock on the first steamboat that ever
ascended the Arkansas river above the post of Arkansas, and as a matter equally
worthy of note he preached the first sermon ever delivered in Little Rock, which
consisted then of a little frame shanty with a scanty supply of drugs and
medicines and a little cabin made of logs with the bark on, where the sermon was
delivered to an audience of fourteen men and women.
These two cabins mentioned were the only buildings at that time on the
site of the present city of Little Rock which gave no promise then of a splendid
future, of the beautiful capital of a sovereign state.
Rev. Mr. Washbourne remained at Dwight until 1828 when he and his
faithful missionary friends followed the Cherokees further west and established
another missionary station near the stream called Sallisaw, to which he gave the
name of New Dwight. Here at this
new missionary home, Edward Pason Washbourne, the artist of “The Arkansas
Traveler” fame, was born on the 17th day of November, 1831.
In 1850 his father moved to Fort Smith, Arkansas, and became pastor of
the Presbyterian church at that place. Here
in 1851 Edward, the artist, opened a studio and began to paint.
He had evinced a talent at an early age and without instruction, and
guided by his genius alone he began life as a self-taught artist.
The portraits and
landscapes painted by him in his boyhood are worthy the brush of many an older
and carefully trained artist. Many
of these early paintings are yet to be seen in the old Washbourne home in
Russellville, Arkansas. These
pictures evince, in a very flattering and remarkable degree, artistic talent,
and were painted long before he ever conceived the idea of “The Arkansas
Traveler.”
From Fort Smith the artist went to New York and studied under Elliott,
the great American painter. His
work, during his brief stay there, was approved by eminent judges.
Edward Washbourne, like his father, was a fine student with a remarkably
retentive memory. He loved the
classics and could repeat page after page of Virgil or a whole oration from
Cicero. In the fall of 1858 while he and his brother were on their
way to try their skill as fishermen, in the Illinois bayou, Edward remarked that
he believed he would paint a picture and call it “The Arkansas Traveler.”
A few days afterwards he canvassed a frame and began to paint some
characters of the picture. One day he and his brother visited their father’s old home
at Dwight to look at the memorable spring that once slaked the thirst of that
noble little missionary band and in passing one of the old mission houses they
saw a young girl holding a looking glass in one hand, while with the other she
combed and brushed a lovely suit of hair. They
both laughed at this, but the incident made such an impression upon Edward’s
mind that immediately upon reaching home he sketched the character of the girl
holding the glass and combing her hair, together with the traveler, who was Col.
Faulkner, as previously mentioned. These characters are still retained in the lithographs.
There at Norristown, Pope county, in 1858 must be given as the place and
time at which the first conception entered the mind of the artist, Edward
Washbourne, to make and execute the remarkable and famous picture, “The
Arkansas Traveler.”
Mr. Washbourne painted three different views before he became satisfied
with his task; the third and final one was given to the public and is now a
familiar sight in almost every southern home.
The first two scenes, so different from the third, are still in the
possession of the Washbourne family and stand unframed just as they came from
the hand of the painter.
This brilliant young artist died in Little Rock in the twenty-eighth year of his
age. Thus terminated in the morning
of life Arkansas’ first and most gifted artist.
Had he lived to attain the allotted age of man, with his high ambition,
his rapid improvement and devotion to his profession, he would no doubt have
been classed and recognized among the first artists of his day.
The
Cherokee poet, John Rollin Ridge[4],
was the son of John Ridge, a full blood Cherokee, who was at one time chief of
his tribe, and the son of the warrior and statesman distinguished in Cherokee
battles and councils. He was known
to the whites as “Major” Ridge and to the Indians as “Kanuntaclage.”
“Major” Ridge led the Cherokees at Horse Shoe Bend under General
Jackson in the war against the Creeks.
John Rollin Ridge’s father was educated at the Indian Mission at
Cornwall, Connecticut. He is said
to have been the acknowledged orator of his tribe and one of the most polished
public men of his day. He married a
Miss Northrop, a daughter of one of the best families of Connecticut.
The
consummation of this romance between a full blood Cherokee and a daughter of New
England caused at that time quite a sensation in the local press and in social
circles. John Rollin Ridge, the son
of this union, was born in the Cherokee Nation, east of the Mississippi river,
in what is now Georgia, March, 19, 1827, and was called by his people “Chees-quat-a-law-ny,”
which means “yellow-bird.”
When the poet was but ten years old he moved with his parents to the
present Cherokee Nation. The
assassination of his father two years later by the opposing political party of
the Cherokees, darkened his life with an eternal sorrow.
Soon afterwards his mother, together with her family, left the Cherokee
Nation and made her home in Fayetteville, Arkansas.
John Rollin was sent to New England to be educated.
He early manifested a literary tendency.
A great many poems of merit were written by him before the age of twenty.
Some of these have been collected by his widow and published in book form
by a San Francisco publishing house. Many
of these earlier poems have elicited high praise from both the Atlantic and
Pacific press.
In the excitement of political life Mr. Ridge lost much of his youthful
ambition for literary fame, and many poems of his later years were lost.
He moved to California in 1849, and never returned to his native land.
He died in that state in the prime of manhood, and today his wife and
only daughter are residents of Berkley, California.
Some of his poems that have
never been printed, are treasured manuscripts in the hands of his surviving
relatives, who are today residents of Oklahoma.
One of these, “Mount Shasta,” follows:
Behold the dread Mt. Shasta, where it
stands
Imperial midst the lesser heights, and, like
Some mighty unimpassioned mind, companionless
And cold. The storms of Heaven may
beat in wrath
Grandeur still; and from the rolling mists upheaves
Its tower of pride e’en purer than before.
The wintry showers and white-winged tempests leave
Their frozen tributes on its brow, and it
Doth make of them an everlasting crown.
Thus doth it, day by day and age by age,
Defy each stroke of time; still rising highest
Into Heaven
Aspiring to the eagle’s cloudless height,
No human foot has stained its snowy side;
No human breath has dimmed the icy mirror which
It holds unto the moon and stars and sov’reign sun.
We may not grow familiar with the secrets
Of its hoary top, whereon the Genius
Of that mountain builds his glorious throne!
Far lifted in the boundless blue, he doth
Encircle, with his gaze supreme, the broad
Dominions of the West, which lie beneath
His feet, in pictures of sublime repose
No artist ever drew. He sees the
tall
Gigantic hills arise in silentness
And peace, and in the long review of distance
Range themselves in order grand. He
sees the sunlight
Play upon the golden streams which through the valleys
Glide. He hears the music of the
great and solemn sea,
And overlooks the huge old western wall
To view the birth-place of undying Melody!
Itself all light, save when some loftiest
cloud
Doth for a while embrace its cold forbidding
Form, that monarch mountain casts its mighty
Shadow down upon the crownless peaks below,
That, like inferior minds to some great
Spirit, stand in strong contrasted littleness!
All through the long and Summery mouths of our
Most tranquil year, it points its icy shaft
On high, to catch the dazzling beams that fall
In showers of splendor round that crystal cone,
And roll in floods of far magnificence
Away from that lone, vast Reflector in
The dome of Heaven.
Still watchful of the fertile
Vale and undulating plains below, the grass
Grows greener in its shade, and sweeter bloom
The flowers. Strong purifier! From its snowy
Side the breezes cool are wafted to the “peaceful
Homes of men,” who shelter at its feet, and love
To gaze upon its honored form, aye standing
There the guarantee of health and happiness.
Well might it win communities so blest
To loftier feelings and to nobler thoughts---
The great material symbol of eternal
Things! And well I ween, in after
years, how
In the middle of his furrowed track the plowman
In some sultry hour will pause, and wiping
From his brow the dusty sweat, with reference
Gaze upon that hoary peak. The
herdsman
Oft will rein his charger in the plain, and drink
Into his inmost soul the calm sublimity;
And little children, playing on the green, shall
Cease their sport, and turning to that mountain
Old, shall of their mother ask; “Who
made it?”
And she shall answer---“God”!
And well this Golden State shall thrive,
if like
Its own Mt. Shasta, Sovereign Law shall lift
Itself in purer atmosphere---so high
That human feeling, human passion at its base
Shall lie subdued; e’en pity’s tears shall on
Its summit freeze; to warm it e’en the sunlight
Of deep sympathy shall fail;
Its pure administration shall be like
The snow immaculate upon that mountain’s brow!
Old Fort Gibson
By Mabel Washbourne Anderson
Chronicles of Oklahoma in December, 1932
Fort Gibson, in the
Cherokee nation, is one of the most historic spots in Indian Territory, as well
as one of the most romantic and picturesque.
It is situated in Illinois District, on the banks of the Grand, and near
the mouth of the Verdigris river. Looking
from the ancient fort across the river to the wooded hills and cliffs on the
other side, one is impressed with the fact that he is not only standing upon
historic ground but in the presence of a beautiful panorama of nature as well.
This post was
the headquarters for the United States army in Indian Territory for over sixty
years. While the government was
looking forward to the removal of the Cherokees from their former homes in
Georgia and Tennessee to the country west of the Mississippi to be known as
“Indian Territory” it was thought expedient to establish a military post as
a precaution against any uprising that might take place among the Cherokees on
account of their compulsory removal from their hoes and haunts east of the
Mississippi.
This great
immigration did not take place, however, till 1838, but many of the Cherokees
had voluntarily immigrated to the upper waters of the Arkansas years before, for
we find them making treaties with the Osages as early as 1818.
These western
Cherokees, or Cherokees of the Arkansas, as they were called, were removed
further west to Indian Territory about 1839.
In the meantime, United States troops under command of Col. Matthew
Arbuckle, were ordered to abandon Fort Smith, Arkansas, which was established in
1817, and was then the most western military post of this country, and come up
the Arkansas and build an army post within the confines of what was afterwards
known as Indian Territory. Thus,
Fort Gibson was founded April 24, 1824.
Within a year
after the troops went into camp, sufficient barracks and quarters had been
completed to house the garrison. Also,
a strong stockade had been built around the post for its protection.
The old post was laid out in the form of a square, with the river for one
side, and at each of the three remaining corners strong blockhouses were built.
In the early
part of 1836, Brevet Brigadier General Arbuckle, then in command of the
district, deemed it advisable to put Fort Gibson in a strong state of defense
for fear of a rebellion among the Indians.
Accordingly, the palisades were considerable strengthened.
Guns were mounted in the blockhouses and everything made ready for an
attack. Be it said to the credit of
the Cherokees, that notwithstanding their just cause for provocation, there was
never an outbreak nor rebellion, and the government found no need for its
blockhouses. Of this old fort few
landmarks now remain, except small portions of the once beautiful gravel walks
that extended around the inside of the square, and two of the old houses used as
the dragoon’s quarters, now occupied as dwellings.
In 1832 a
detachment of United States troops was ordered from Fort Gibson, to re-occupy
Fort Smith, which had been wholly abandoned for nine years.
The government continuously occupied the post at Gibson till 1857, when
it was abandoned and given over to the Cherokee nation.
It was re-occupied for the first time by the Confederate troops in the
winter of ’61 and ’62. Two of
the blockhouses which were still standing were filled with beef which was
barbecued for their use. The
Confederate troops abandoned Fort Gibson and removed across the river to Fort
Davis. From the summer of ’62
till the close of the Civil War Gibson was held by the Federal troops, when the
post was again re-occupied by regular United States troops, and the government
spent at least one million improving it, with a view to occupying it
permanently. In connection with its
occupancy the government laid out a National Cemetery, the only one within the
confines of the Indian Territory. This cemetery has received up to this time the remains of
2,456 dead. These government
buildings were all well built of stone, and laid out in the form of an “L,”
with parade grounds in front. Most
of these buildings are still standing in a greater or less state of
preservation. The old fort, the
barracks, the officers’ quarters, with the ruins of the old artillery
building, cavalry stables, kitchens, etc., are to be found in Old Fort Gibson. Modern Gibson is about one mile out in the prairie from
“Old Town.”
The Cherokee
Nation used to appoint a keeper for these buildings, but from inefficiency and
carelessness on the part of those who held the office the custom gradually fell
into disuse, and now these buildings are occupied free of rent by any citizen
who happens to first secure them when vacated.
The post was
deserted for the second and final time and reverted to the Cherokee nation
October 1, 1890. Few cities and towns within the borders of this great country
can truthfully claim the honor of having had as its residents so many men of
national fame as this old Indian fort. It
is claimed that Henry M. Stanley once taught school in the village of Gibson.
The distinguished American author, Washington Irving, when he accompanied
the expedition for the removal of the Indians beyond the Mississippi, stopped at
Fort Gibson, where he met the company of troops detailed as his guide upon the
excursion from which he wrote his “Tour of the Prairies” published in 1832.
Almost every distinguished officer in the United States army has seen
service at Fort Gibson. It has been
visited by Grant, Sherman and Sheridan. About
the year 1867 or 1869, Phil Sheridan, major general, commanding the United
States army, was at Fort Gibson for a short time.
In 1871, General Wm. T. Sherman stopped at Fort Gibson while on his
return from an expedition against the marauding Comanches and Kiowas when the
noted chief, “Big Tree,” “Sultana” and others were taken to a fort in
Florida. In 1878 and 1879, James G.
Blaine, Republican candidate for the presidency of the United States, visited
his daughter, Mrs. Coppinger, while her husband, Lieutenant Coppinger, was in
command of the fort at Gibson. During
this visit Senator Blaine was taken seriously ill, and public attention was once
more attracted to this Indian post. Zachary
Taylor himself once commanded at Fort Gibson and went from there to Corpus
Christi, Texas, and marched to Palo Alto Rasaca de la Palma, Monterey and Buenta
Vista, and on to the presidency of the United States.
Samuel Houston,
whose name and fame are household words all over the United States as the
gallant leader of the patriotic Texans in their struggle for independence from
Mexico, after resigning the governorship, resided near Fort Gibson, and was
almost daily at the Fort in the early thirties.
If we had space in this article, it would be interesting to follow this
“Man of Destiny” during his strange and checkered career from the
governor’s chair in Tennessee to his life among the Western Cherokees, both in
Arkansas and after their removal the present Cherokee nation in 1829.
He dressed like the fullblood of that date; hunting shirt, buckskin
leggings, moccasins and shawl turban upon his head.
He used often to meet with them at their “Council Ground” (as the
capitol was then called) Tah-lon-tu-skee.
He married a Cherokee, Titana Rogers, and was formally adopted by them
and made one of their tribe. Many
prominent Cherokees have been named for him.
Sam Houston was the first and only president of the Republic of Texas, a
United States Senator, and afterward the first governor of the State of Texas.
At the beginning of the Civil War the log house where Sam Houston resided
was still standing, and was pointed out to strangers as a landmark of interest
and curiosity. It was torn down
later and rebuilt, and is still standing at the present time.
One of the most
interesting historical events connected with this old post, is the fact that the
famous Jefferson Davis, the patron saint of the South, whose memory is so deeply
engraven upon the hearts of his people that it will never grow dim, was for some
time stationed as First Lieutenant of First Regiment of Dragoons, Company E., at
Fort Gibson. This was in 1834 and
1835, shortly after his graduation from West Point, and while he was still a
young man. He remained at Fort
Gibson until ordered to take part in the Black Hawk War, an expedition against
the Pawnees in which the Shawnee leader, Tecumseh, and his brother, The Prophet,
were the chief instigators. Jefferson
Davis was an officer in the Texas War for independence, afterward a United
States Senator from Mississippi, and finally the first and last president of the
Confederacy. The house occupied by
this distinguished chieftain was still standing until recently, a historic and
interesting memento of an era that has passed.
This building was quite a pretentious log house erected in 1824, and has
been more frequently photographed and copied by artists than any other one house
in Indian Territory.
So here is an
obscure but picturesque little Indian village of never more than one thousand
inhabitants, whose citizens have been intimates and associates of the presidents
of three different republics.
During the Civil War,
General Watie, a fullblood Cherokee, and universally conceded to have been the
bravest of his race, camped for months near Gibson.
He built Fort Davis on the south side of the Arkansas, about the same
distance that Gibson is north. He
made frequent dashes and destroyed the hay camps of the Federals, and at one
time captured all their wagon horses that were being grazed on the Gibson
prairies. At this time nine Federal
soldiers and two Cherokees were killed. After
the assassination of his kinsman, Major Ridge, and his son, John Ridge, then the
most powerful men of the Cherokee nation, Watie became leader of the “Treaty
Party” among his people. He
successfully passed through the disturbances of his own tribe from 1832 to 1847,
and through the Civil War. Watie
was first a colonel, then a brigadier general, and finally the only Cherokee
major general in the Confederate army, receiving his appointment to that office
from President Davis. General Watie
was noted for his courage and bravery. It
was claimed by his followers that he was the bravest man that ever put foot on
Cherokee soil. Many stories of his
remarkable fearlessness and courage are current among his people today.
The fullbloods finally believed that this Indian general possessed a
charmed life, and that the bullet was never molded that could kill Stand Watie.
They also believed that he possessed the necromantic power of foretelling
events of the battlefield and it is handed down as tradition among his people
today that he never failed in prophesying who would or would not fall in battle
at a certain time and place. To
this day Stand Watie is honored and revered by both his followers and his
opponents.
There are two cotton gins in Fort Gibson, and many interesting darkey
characters of the truly Southern type are to be found in and about the old fort.
Some of these old aunties and uncles can tell many historical incidents,
when, during the Civil War, the old fort was held first by one side and then the
other. They love to tell of the
romantic traditions of Jefferson Davis and the pretty daughter of the general
commanding the post, and delight in pointing out to this day the camping ground
of Washington Irving, the spot where Stanley once taught school, and to relate,
as only an old time darkey can, the visit of Mrs. Dewey, when her first husband,
young Lieutenant Hazen, brought her there as a bride. Truly, Fort Gibson is rich in historical and romantic
interest.
The Romantic Derivation of the
Euphonious Sounding Title
Miss Vinnie Ream.
The Artist and Sculptress was Made the God Mother of the Town—Mabel W.
Anderson, by Request, Writes Interestingly of That Talented Lady
Vinita has not only cause for congratulation upon a fair prospect of
becoming the metropolis of the Indian Territory, but she has more than one
reason for being proud of the name it bears.
First, because it is universally
conceded to be the prettiest and most euphonious name of any city in the Indian
Territory.
And secondly, on account of its unusually romantic derivation.
While not in reality an Indian name, as many naturally suppose, yet the
Indians have reason to be proud of the fact that the town was christened by a
Cherokee, and one of the most distinguished of his race—the gifted Cornelius
Boudinot. Not as a lawyer, an
orator, a statesman, or a man of advanced ideas, has the name of Col. Boudinot
endeared itself to his people, but he possessed in a marked degree that
admirable quality of loving his fellow men and was by them beloved.
His talent for refined and
pleasant entertainment was of an unusual order.
He was the fascinating exponent of interesting conversation, sentiment
and song. The beauty and poetry of
his nature found its happiest expression in his songs.
These were his friends and those who were enraptured by them were among
the most honored in the land. Many
eminent people were numbered among his personal friends.
Few, indeed, of his race
ever stood so high socially as he, nor received so profusely the attention
usually bestowed upon genius.
On account of his advanced ideas upon allotment and other matters, Col.
Boudinot was for a long period of time exiled from his native country and he
made the city of Washington his home for many years.
‘Twas here[5]
he met the famous Vinnie Ream and the mutual admiration and friendship between
the two is familiar to all who knew him.
It is a fact well known to every citizen of this country that the town of
Vinita was originally called Downingville in the honor of Lewis Downing, the
distinguished chief, and as a matter of local history, equally worthy of note,
the name was afterwards changed, at the instigation of Col. Boudinot to
“Vinita,” in honor of his first love, “Vinnie Ream,” the famous
sculptor.
In the field of art America furnishes no greater name perhaps, certainly
not among women, than that of Vinnie Ream Hoxie, who enjoyed the distinction of
being the first woman who ever received an order from the United States
government for a statue.
During the civil war she was employed for a time in the post office
department—in Washington, D.C., but subsequently studied art and soon devoted
her whole attention to sculpture. Her
work in this line was so successful that she made busts of Gen. Grant, Sherman,
Albert Pike, Sheredy Johnson and Thaddeus Stevens, besides producing “The
Indian Girl,” a full length figure in bronze, the Marble “Miriam,” and
others of note. Her most important
execution at this time was the statue of Lincoln, ordered by the government and
placed in the capitol at Washington.
Vinnie Ream spent several years abroad and perhaps her most widely known
statue is that of Admiral Farragut, which was cast in bronze from metal obtained
from the flagship “Hartford,” and placed in Farragut square, Washington,
D.C.
She was married in May, 1878, to Capt. Richard L. Hoxie, of the U.S.
[Army] corps of engineers.
Like the classic poet of Greece, many states and cities have claimed the
honor as the place of her birth. That honor, however, must be bestowed upon Madison, Mich.[6],
where she first saw the light of day Sept. 23, 1846. Though the place of her birth has been so far disputed, yet
it is a fact that her parents resided in Fort Smith, Arkansas, during her early
youth and girlhood.
While residing in Fort Smith she was at one time a Sunday school pupil of
Miss Abbie Washbourne, sister of the talented Edward Pason Washbourne, of
“Arkansas Traveler” fame.
In view of the association with
her name, the citizens of this city should feel a particular interest in the
life and character of Vinnie Ream and Col. Boudinot.
Let Vinita do credit to the beauty of her name by rising as a fair
monument to perpetuate in memory the friendship of two gifted spirits, the one
who expressed the melody of his soul through song, and the other who still
speaks to the world through the silent medium of marble and bronze.
Years ago when the Indian Territory was a wild, uncultivated land, the Osages
wandered over its plains and hills, claimed it as their own, and no man disputed
their right. At that time a portion
of Georgia belonged to the Cherokees, and was known as the Cherokee Nation.
But, the white man had become covetous of the soil, and congress agreed
to remove the unhappy Indian from the state.
Thus, forced by oppression and necessity, they sought an independent and
separate existence in the wilds of the West.
Leaving their beloved and familiar haunts behind them they wended their
way to that part of the country west of the Mississippi now known as the
Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory. About
twenty years previous to this final emigration, which occurred in 1837, a
portion of the tribe voluntarily emigrated to the Indian Territory.
Hoping to find it uninhabited, they were surprised and disappointed to
find themselves among the wild and warlike Osages. These wild Indians did not like the intrusion of a superior
and more civilized race, and immediately began hostilities.
The
Old World at that time was the scene of innumerable civil and political wars,
Napoleon had been overthrown, the French monarchy re-established and many of his
followers were compelled to seek safety and protection on the shores of the New
World. Among these adventurers was
a young Frenchman of the name of Claremont, who, having taken refuge in flight
from his native country, landed in New Orleans, then composed principally of
French descendants. Still
influenced by the spirit of adventure, he sailed up the Mississippi to the mouth
of the Arkansas River, where he landed, and so continuing his explorations, he
found himself in that portion of the country now known as the Cherokee Nation,
which was then occupied, as has been said, by the Osages. With the ease and versatility characteristic of his
nationality, he at once adapted himself to their aboriginal habits and customs,
and so won their confidence and admiration by his courage and military bearing
that he soon became one of the leaders of the tribe, and finally its chief.
By this time the Cherokees were emigrating from the old Nation by scores
and hundreds and encroaching with vigor upon the supposed possessions of the
Osages. The Cherokees wished to be
at peace, and overlooking the first attacks of their would-be enemies, their
chiefs and principal warriors visited the Osage villages and proposed a treaty
of amity, which was concluded, the tomahawk was buried, the calumet of peace was
smoked, and tokens of fidelity were exchanged.
The Cherokees, well pleased with the attainment of their object, took up
their march to their own homes, but while on their way hither a party who had
been sent out to kill game for food to supply them with provisions for the
journey were waylaid and murdered by the Osages, a number of whom had followed
them thus far.
After this violation of the treaty the Cherokees took up arms against their
treacherous neighbors; their warriors, amounting to some 250, met the Osages
numbering some 2000 warriors. On
the very first fire scores of the Osages were slain. Very soon after this victory a man by the name of
Tak-ah-to-kuh emigrated from the old nation.
This man was descended from the ancient priesthood.
He had been a chief and a brave warrior. He was immediately regarded as the highest authority by the
Cherokees. Having been told the
situation, he approved of their open declaration of war.
The Cherokees, though greatly outnumbered by the Osages, were uniformly
victorious. In the western part of
the Cherokee Nation a dreadful and final battle took place in which Claremont,
the chief, was slain, with scores of his followers.
The remainder took refuge in an inglorious flight.
The signs of this battle are yet to be seen in the hecatombs of the
fallen braves known as the Claremore mounds.
These mounds are a short distance from the thriving town of Claremore,
which name is a corruption of “Claremont,” the name of the adopted Osage
chief, for whom they were both called. On
one of those mounds this famous Osage chief was buried with all of his
possessions, but his remains were afterward exhumed, and every bone and personal
belonging was carried away by the Osages, thereby proving their affection and
appreciation of him. These mounds
are easily seen from the passing trains, and are landmarks of interest and
curiosity, and to this day people in search of curios, by diligent search, may
find buried relics of the Osages. Many
of the adjacent farms are Osage graveyards, where human skulls and personal
belongings are yet turned up by the plow. Thus
disappeared from the land of the Cherokees the last of the Osages, taking up
their abode in that portion of the country purchased by them from the United
States government.
This battle has furnished the subject of a very pretty Indian legend, accounting
for the origin of the Salt Springs near the Cherokee Orphan Asylum.
In a valley between the hills of Saline district, on the shores of the
Grand River, in the center of what appears to be an arid waste, where neither
sprig of grass nor green shrub is to be seen, so impregnated is the soil with
saline matter, boiling up to the height of several feet are a number of salt
springs, which are not only objects of curiosity, but of usefulness as well, for
years ago they furnished the entire supply of salt consumed by the Cherokees in
that part of the country. To the
present day the old iron kettles, portions of the engine and pipes, and other
instruments used in the manufacture of salt may be seen now spoken of as the
ancient salt works of the Cherokees. Beneficent
nature, which never does anything by halves, has not belied her reputation in
the instance. A few yards opposite
the boiling salt springs may be seen a number of other springs, at whose fresh
and sparkling waters the Osage maidens had often quenched their thirst and
bathed their shapely limbs.
Years ago, so the story runs,
near the present site of this natural wonder, dwelt an Osage maiden, Palisha, a
daughter of one of the chiefs, whose ponies, trinkets and gorgeous blankets were
the envy and admiration of every other young squaw of the tribe, and whose hand
was sought in marriage by many a stalwart Osage brave; but Palisha, after the
manner of all maidens since the days of Eden, had smiles and glances for only
one Adam, a brave and youthful warrior in Claremont’s army at the battle of
the mounds. During this battle
runners were sent as news bearers between the Osage village and the scene of the
battle, some twenty-five miles distant. As
the news of the battle fluctuated from victory to defeat, the hopes of the young
girl rose and fell: she neither ate nor slept during its progress, but kept a
constant vigil awaiting the arrival of the messenger, whose coming held such
fatal interest for her, for all too soon the tortures of uncertainty were
replaced by her melancholy cries to the Great Spirit to sustain her in her
grief, for the dreaded news had reached her that the battle was over, and her
lover was slain. At the foot of a
gigantic oak she threw herself, prostrate upon the bosom of mother earth and
gave herself wholly to her despair. Like
the Grecian Niobe of old, she wept and wept without ceasing till the Great
Spirit in pity transformed her into the artesian-like springs, whose salty
waters shall forever perpetuate her tears.
Nowita,
the Sweet Singer
A Romantic Tradition of Spavinaw, Indian Territory
By Mabel Washbourne Anderson
Spavinaw is the
most beautiful stream in the Cherokee Nation. Nourished by the sparkling waters of the many springs in that
locality, it winds like a shining thread of crystal through the narrow valleys
between the hills which bear its name; curving its way by circuitous route, as
if reluctant to leave its native hills, the murmur of whose pines chant a
tuneful accompaniment to the music of its waters.
Nestled among
the hills and within these valleys are the homes of many of the fullblood
Cherokees, who seek the seclusion and the quiet of the forests in preference to
the open prairies, dotted with farms and towns and traversed by railroads.
These little Indian cabins are scarcely less difficult to locate than are
the haunts of the deer. Secluded in the summer by the luxuriant foliage of the forest
trees, the unfamiliar traveler might well imagine, by the whispering of the
pines, that “this is the forest primeval.[8]”
In one of the
most picturesque spots of this section of the country stands a lonely Indian
cabin which possesses more than ordinary interest to the stranger, for all the
world loves a romance, as well as a lover. Tall pines and moss-grown rocks shelter the building from the
gaze of the intruder. Fate seems to
have chosen this site as a fit setting for the gem of romance that has made this
cabin an object of interest and curiosity. It was once the home of a young Indian girl, the heroine of a
romance that had its origin in the National High Schools of the Cherokee Nation,
which are located at Tahlequah, the national capital.
‘Tis the pathetic story of Nowita, a sweet singing Cherokee maiden, a
pupil in the Female Seminary, and a young professor from the East, who taught in
the Cherokee Male Seminary.
The Male and
Female Seminaries were originally situated three miles from the town of
Tahlequah, and separated from each other by the same distance of lonely
prairie—lonely in the winter when the unbroken landscape lay bleak and
colorless, but beautiful in the summer, when you might gaze as far as eye could
reach over the green billows of the Boston and Ozark mountains.
It was an old
custom, years ago, at the Female Seminary, to give a reception to the teachers
and pupils of the Male Seminary, once every quarter, and every year, on the
seventh day of May, the anniversary of the founding of the two schools, was
celebrated by a picnic upon the beautiful banks of the winding Illinois, three
miles away. Thus it came about that
Nowita, the sweet singer, sang ballads in her own native tongue to the “pale
face stranger” on “reception days,” and on May-day picnics they wandered
side by side down the lovely stream, allured from the society of the others by
the music of its waters, gathering the spring violets as they went, which they
afterward made into a wreath for Nowita’s dark braids, all unconsciously
waving a bleeding heart among the purple blossoms, for the little Indian maid
had learned the language of love more rapidly than she had acquired English,
though unusually bright and advanced for her age and environments, her broken
sentences and quaint expressions amused and charmed her admirer as much as the
musical cadences of her voice.
So time went by
and the young man realized that he welcomed with an indefinite eagerness every
opportunity that threw him in the society of the young Indian girl, and noted,
too, that her dark eyes, usually so serene and melancholy, shone with a happy
luster in his presence, and he found a vague and pathetic pleasure in the
thought that the school days were almost over, and that their final parting was
near.
But Fate, that
with cruel and relentless hand, had brought together these two young people so
dissimilar by environments and nationality, decreed that one of them at least,
should fulfill the destiny allotted to her. So, when the summer vacation came, and Nowita returned to the
primitive home of her parents among the hills, contrary to the advice of his
friend and the accusing memory of a pair of blue eyes among the green mountains
of New Hampshire, the young professor joined a camping party for a fortnight’s
recreation on the banks of the Spavinaw, ostensibly to gather “Indian lore and
legends.” It is needless to say
that he soon sought and found the home of Nowita, the object of his thoughts.
The old story
begun at the school was renewed and continued among more romantic surroundings,
and with fewer obstructions, save for the grave rebuke and distrust written upon
the austere faces of the girl’s parents and acquaintances which found no
expression in words, for whatever may be said of the refining influence of
civilization upon the Indian, the dignity and native pride of a fullblood
Cherokee are conceded by all who are at all familiar with their character.
Cruel and revengeful they may be, when under oppression, and perhaps
treacherous, but coarse and vulgar, never.
This Indian romance of local celebrity is given below in parodical[9]
form:
Should
you ask me whence this story,
Whence this romance and tradition
Of the sad-eyed Indian maiden,
Of Nowita, the sweet singer,
I should answer, I should tell you
Of a pale and handsome stranger
Teaching at an Indian college
In the village of Tahlequah
At the time that you shall hear of;
I should speak up, I should tell you:
Trifled with this child of nature
Singing with her gay and thoughtless,
Every moment when together,
Never weary grew the maiden,
Singing with the handsome stranger,
And their voices sweetly blending,
Could be heard throughout the building,
Singing old love songs together
Ballads old and ever lovely,
He pronouncing words in English
She expressing them in Indian.
And he praised her voice and beauty
Whispering words which mean to flatter,
And Nowita sweet and childlike,
Listened to his honeyed speeches
Knew no word which meant deceiving,
And her heart to love unlettered
Filled with new and dreamy music,
And she called him Ska-kle-los-ky
Ska-kle-los-ky, the sweet speaker.
Listening
in the halls below them
Stood the friend of Ska-kle-los-ky,
With a cynic’s face he listened
To their voices softly singing,
Through his shadow dark and chilling
Like an evil spirit near them,
As a thorn upon a rose stem,
So his presence stung the maiden,
For she felt his disapproval
Of the friendship they were forming,
And she called him Oo-naw-whee-hee
Oo-naw-whee-hee, cold and cruel.
When the sultry days of summer
Came with all their brilliant splendor,
And upon the green prairie
Danced the vexing “Lazy Lawrence”
When her school mates all departed
To their homes and to their parents
None were half so heavy-hearted
As this gentle Indian maiden—
As Nowita, the sweet singer;
All the wild birds of the forest
All the singing brooks and rivers.
And the breath of bursting blossoms
From the sweet wild honey suckle
And the calling of the pine trees
From her home among the mountains
Failed to interest their comrade
Or her homeward steps to hasten.
Sad at heart this forest maiden
Left the village of Tahlequah,
Went back to her home and people,
To her home among the pine trees.
And she fancied she was dreaming,
Dreaming of the vanished hours,
When, one evening in the twilight
Came her pale and handsome hero;
“’Tis his spirit that appeareth,
“And my love is dead,” she murmured.
Then he
told her all the story,
How his friend and other comrades
Had encamped within the valley
Seeking rest and recreation,
How with eagerness he joined them
That again he might be near her,
Saying, “Won’t you give me welcome
To the shelter of your pine trees?
I have come to know your people,
Learn your language, customs, habits,
Learn your legends and traditions;
Will you be my skillful teacher?
I will help you with your English,
With your books of prose and verses,
And we’ll while away the hours
Helping, teaching one another.”
And he quickly read his answer
In the lovelight on her features.
He abandoned all the future
To the pleasures of the present.
Thus, the days they spent together,
Like the ancient days of Eden,
Passed in guileless, blissful pleasure
With no shadow to disturb them,
Save the stolid disapproval
Of her own suspicious people,
For her parents and grandparents
Looked with stern disapprobation,
Looked with distrust at the stranger---
With a jealous eye they watched them.
Then she told him all their story,
Why against the “pale-faced nation”
All this prejudice had arisen,
Of their former home in Georgia,
On the banks of the Osternarly[10];
Further westward they’d been driven
Like the hunted deer and bison,
And their home was now uncertain---
Soon it would be taken from them.
She must
pour him con-noh-ha-neh,[11]
She must make him sweet con-nutch-chee[12],
He must smoke the pipe taloneh[13]
And a magic chain of wampum
From her ancient beads she gave him;
He must dive with Ooch-a-latah[14]---
He must friendly be among them,
So they might begin to trust him,
And her people be his people.
So she made him buckskin slippers---
“Moccasins all brightly beaded,”
And a hunting shirt[15] of homespun
From her mother’s loom she made him;
“Taught him to flint and feather arrows”
“How to shoot them when completed.”
Down the
river in the moonlight
In her own canoe they glided,
While she sang him songs so dreamy
That the great rocks caught the echo
And in phonographic measure
Still repeats them to the forest.
Thus the days of summer glided
Onward toward the coming autumn,
And the day of his departing
Dawned with its foreboding shadows.
But he
vowed unto his sweetheart::
“I’ll be true to thee, my song-bird,
Never love another maiden,
Never sing with any other,
Soon will come the happy springtime
When I will return to wed thee,
And we’ll live and sing together,
And will nevermore be parted.”
So with many vows he left her,
Standing lonely in the twilight
“Looking back as he departed”---
With her solemn faith unshaken.
Each day waited fond Nowita;
Happy was the little singer,
Looking forward to the springtime.
Thus the long and weary winter
Passed away with leaden footsteps,
And again the hills and valleys
Wakened from their chilly slumbers,
And the laughter of the waters
Called to her with happy voices;
And she answered with her singing
Till the song birds in the forest
Caught and mocked the happy echo,
But the voice she loved and longed for,
And the step for which she listened,
And the man for whom she waited,
Never would come again to greet her.
And the maiden sadly singing
In the star light in the morning,
Seemed to draw him near in spirit
From his distant home and people.
But the
grand dame of the maiden
Looked with sorrow on her grandchild,
Looked with sadness at her fading
Looked with anguish at her pining.
She who had been so light-hearted
Till she met the pale-face stranger,
Till she met the handsome Yankee---
Till she met with “Ska-kle-los-ky.”
“My dark daughter,” said the grand dame,
“Choose a young man of your tribe
Do not waste your youth in pining,
Wait not for the fickle stranger,
Weep not for your fair-faced lover---
Awful queer folks are the white folks.”
Many
springs and many winters
Passed away in swift rotation,
And the gentle Indian Maiden
Grew into a sad-faced woman.
No more twilight found her singing,
Silent was her voice forever.
Said the
men among her people,
“Let him come once more among us
To deceive us with his friendship;
When he comes again he’ll tarry,
Tarry in these hills forever.”
All the
powers of the magician,
All the pleading of her people,
Failed to change the silent singer,
Or arouse her admiration,
For the tall and handsome suitors---
Chiefs from far and distant nations---
Who had learned her hapless story
And had traveled far to woo her,
But she heeded not nor heard them,
For her thoughts were with the stranger,
And the echo of his whispers
Silenced all the other voices.
Thus in
melancholy sadness,
With her mind to mem’ry wedded,
And in patient resignation,
So her days alike were numbered;
Thus she passed away in silence
To the land of the hereafter.
Still
her sad, unhappy story
Is repeated to the traveler,
And her home among the mountains
To this day is sought by strangers.
If you go alone at twilight
To the cave beside the river
Where the lovers in the evening
Rowed together in the gloaming,
You may hear the repetition
Of the songs as they were uttered,
By this charming Indian maiden,
By Nowita, the sweet singer.
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