RED JACKET, OR SA-GO-YE-WAT-HA: THE GREAT ORATOR OF THE SENECAS
A little schooner was about to be launched in a port of the eastern seaboard of the United States, and crowds of people gathered around to see the vessel take to the water. It was an event of more than usual interest, for a tall Indian chief of majestic bearing stood at the prow in order to speak a word of parting to the new-made hull. He placed one hand upon the planking, and, turning to the expectant onlookers, spoke with great feeling.
"You have a great name given to you," he said, pointing to the ship. "Your name is Red Jacket. Strive to deserve this name. Be brave and daring. Go boldly into the troublesome waters of the great sea and fear neither the swift wind nor the strong waves. Be not frightened nor overcome by them, for it is in resisting storms and tempests that I, whose name you bear, obtained my renown. Let my great example inspire you to courage and lead you to glory. Strike, you men! Break the underpinning from this favored vessel and let us see it plough into the surging ocean!" As he ceased, the stanchions which held the schooner were knocked away, and proudly and serenely she dipped into the waters of the blue Atlantic.
The great chief who had christened this little vessel was one of the most famous orators who has ever existed among the Indians of America. His birth is supposed to have taken place about the year 1750, under a great tree which formerly stood near the spring of crystal water at Canoga Point, on the western shores of Lake Cayuga, in western New York. His parents were Senecas—a powerful tribe that lived at Can-e-de-sa-ga, at the present site of Geneva, New York, and they were members of the Iroquois confederation of Indian people. His father, although a member of this tribe, was by birth a Cayuga—a thoughtful and far-seeing race, who were the scholars and thinkers of the northern Indians—and, although learned, was not a man of any prominence or distinction. His mother is said to have had white blood in her veins, and so the remarkable ability to express himself in a logical manner may be traced to this taint in the blood of the eloquent Red Jacket, who in infancy was called O-te-tiana, which signifies, "The Always Ready."
Tradition has it that when a young man Red Jacket was remarkably fleet of foot, so fleet, in fact, that he was employed by his people as a "runner" or messenger. But his ambition was to become a great orator and speaker, and thus leaving the active participation in warfare to spirits more bold than his own, he endeavored to become the greatest counsellor among his people. This ability to sway the thoughts and feelings of others made him chief—a position to which he aspired, and of which he was very jealous—and, when he came to this honor, he took another name, according to the custom of his nation. This was the euphonious one of Sa-go-ye-wat-ha, which means "The Keeper Awake."
But how came it that he was called Red Jacket, when these other names were so much more distinguished and musical? This is explained by a chronicler of this period of history, who says: "During the war of the Revolution this Seneca warrior made himself very useful to the British officers as a messenger. He was doubtless of great value to them because of his intelligence and gift for oratory, and, in return for his services, the officers presented the young man with a scarlet jacket, very richly embroidered. He took much delight in this coat of a flaming red, and this peculiar dress became a mark of distinction and gave him the name by which he was afterwards best known. Even after the war, when the Americans wished to particularly ingratiate themselves with him, they would present him with a red jacket. The young Prince of the wolf den would don the bright raiment with a look of immense pride, and he was much admired by his followers as he strutted about attired in this attractive dress." Thus Sa-go-ye-wat-ha became known by the title of Red Jacket, a name which clung to him through life, and by which he has been known to historians.
RED JACKET, OR SA-GO-YE-WAT-HA.
The predecessor of Red Jacket, as Chief of the Senecas, was a celebrated brave, called Corn Planter by the English, a man well known for his oratorical powers and skill as a warrior. This eminent Chieftain suddenly found that his power over his men was declining, partly owing to the fact that in 1784 he had used his influence in consenting to a cession of Seneca land to the American government at the treaty of Fort Stanwix, and partly owing to the fact that he was growing so old that the young blood of the tribe felt that a young man should lead them. Bitterly chagrined by his loss of popularity, Corn Planter resolved upon a desperate exertion to restore his departing influence, and, with this end in view, determined to practice upon the superstitions of the Indians and rid himself of those chiefs who opposed his rule. So he had his brother declare himself a prophet or Messiah, and, stating that he had come to restore the former prestige of the red men and make them again great, he soon had great influence among the credulous Senecas.
But now the evil designs of Corn Planter came to a head. The Prophet declared that several members of the tribe were wizards or magicians, and among them Red Jacket was named as the chief offender. He was publicly denounced by those influenced by the Prophet, who, at a great Indian council, declared that he should be put to death. At this crisis Red Jacket knew that his safety and life itself depended upon his intellectual powers, and so determined to make use of the greatest oratorical efforts that he was capable of. Appearing before the assembled Indians, he rose majestically before them, and throwing back his blanket said in part:
"Brothers, you accuse me of being a Wizard and Sorcerer. This Prophet, the brother of Corn Planter, has told you that I am a man of evil thoughts and would work you ill. It is an untruth. Never since I was a small boy have I thought evil of any of my own race, and never since I came of age have I ever labored for anything but the good of my people. How can I, who have loved you at a peace all these years, have married among you, have brought up my children among you, how can I, I say, wish ill to the people whom I have starved, slept and feasted with? Brothers, you know that in the treaty at Fort Stanwix I was for war, while Corn Planter was for peace and wished to give over our lands to the whites. You see how you have fared by following his advice. You are now poor, without hunting ground, and the white men have your best lands. Had you stood by me, and had you waged war upon the whites, we would have defeated them, driven them from our borders, and we would now have good grounds to live upon. You see how following this man's advice has served us."
This he continued for three hours, at the end of which time he had fully persuaded the Indians that the Prophet was an imposter and fraud, that Corn Planter should be deposed, and that he himself should be freed from all charges against himself. The savages had all been in favor of his death, but, swayed by this masterful eloquence, a portion of their numbers came to his way of thinking, and when a vote was taken in regard to what disposition should be made of him, their numbers were sufficient to set him free. Corn Planter's influence was at an end, and soon Red Jacket was foremost in the councils of those of his own nationality. The masterful power of oratory had won him the foremost position in his own tribe.
The Indians, in fact, had fared ill for the part that they had taken in the American Revolution, between the American Colonists of New York and the British. Influenced by the Iroquois and their powerful ally, Captain Joseph Brant—the great war chief of the Mohawks—they had thrown in their lot with the English troops. Red Jacket had eloquently plead with his people to remain neutral. "Let these whites fight it out among themselves," he had said, "while we remain upon our own lands and take care of ourselves. What have the English done for us? What will they do for us if they win, but insist upon a division of our land?" He here rose to his fullest height, (for he was in the council chamber) and pointed to the winding current of the Mohawk. "Why should we leave our beautiful country by the shimmering waters of the river which we love, in order to become killed, maimed and homeless for the sake of our white brothers? Why should we give up everything for these men, I say, when we are happy and peaceful here? It is none of our quarrel. Let us rest."
In spite of this appeal his own warriors would not listen to his words of advice and called him a coward, and also the "cow-killer." With smirks and grimaces they would often tell how at the outbreak of the war the young chief had exhorted all about him to be filled with valor and courage, to march forth valiantly towards the enemy, for he, himself, would be there in the thickest of the fighting. Stirred by his address, the warriors were soon engaged in battle, but when they looked for the orator he was missing. In vain they searched for him at the close of hostilities, and, at last, found him cutting up a cow which he had captured near the Indian village. This story was spread broadcast, it caused great amusement, and many a Seneca was heard to say: "Sa-go-ye-wat-ha, he talk much, but he no back up his big words."
At the close of the Revolutionary War, however, these warriors who had previously reviled the sage counsellor of the Senecas wished that they had listened more favorably to his advice. The British army of invasion under Burgoyne which the Senecas and Mohawks allied themselves with, was badly whipped at Saratoga, and those who were not captured fled to Canada. The country came into the possession of the American troops; the Mohawks emigrated to Canadian soil, where they were given no aid by the English, and the Senecas were treated in a high-handed manner by the victorious sons of New England. Many of the members of this powerful tribe perished in the battles around Saratoga, and, as they were fighting for a cause which they did not understand, it soon became apparent to them that they should have followed the advice of the great orator. Too late they realized that the old adage was true, which runs, "A prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself, but the simple pass on and are punished."
From the close of the American Revolution to the outbreak of the war of 1812, the Senecas lived in peace and seclusion upon their lands. President George Washington extended to them the hand of friendship and offered them protection from their enemies if they would sign a treaty with him. This they did, and the great American leader filled a place in their affections which has never been equalled by any white man, save Roger Williams or William Penn. So strong was the influence of the "Father of his Country" among them, that in subsequent disturbances in their dominions the Senecas either remained neutral or else were loyal to the Americans and their interests. Red Jacket himself was one of fifty chiefs who journeyed to Philadelphia to visit Washington in 1792, where he was presented with a silver medal on which the President, in military uniform, was represented as handing a long peace pipe to an Indian chief with a scalp-lock decorated with plumes on the top of his head, while a white man was ploughing with a yoke of oxen in the background—a hint to the Indians to abandon war and adopt the peaceful pursuits of agriculture. Red Jacket accepted this with much pleasure, prized it very highly, and wore it on all occasions of state.
When war broke out between the Americans and British in 1812, the Senecas immediately offered their services to their American neighbors. But their proffer of aid was rejected, and every effort was made to induce them to remain neutral. The Indians did not care for such treatment, but said nothing. At last, in the summer of 1812, the English troops took possession of Grand Island, in the Niagara River, and this was a valuable possession of the Senecas. Immediately, therefore, they were anxious for war, a council was called, the American Indian Agent was summoned to attend, and Red Jacket arose to address him.
"Brother," he said, "you have told us that we had nothing to do with the war between you and the British. But the war has come to our doors. Our property is seized by the British and their Indian friends. It is necessary for us then to go to war. We must defend our property. We must drive the enemy from our soil. If we sit still on our lands and take no means of redress, the British, following the custom of you white people, will hold them by conquest, and you, if you conquer Canada, will claim them on the same principles, as conquered from the British. Brother, we wish to go with our warriors and drive off these bad people and take possession of those lands."
Such was the effect of this outburst of oratory upon his hearers that a grand council of the Six Nations soon came together and issued a manifesto against the British in Canada. "We, the chiefs and counsellors of the Six Nations of Indians, residing in the State of New York, do hereby proclaim to all the war chiefs and warriors of the Six Nations, that war is declared on our part against the provinces of Upper and Lower Canada," ran this call to arms.
"Therefore, we do hereby command and advise all the war chiefs to call forth immediately all the warriors under them and put them in motion to protect their rights and liberties, which our brethren, the Americans, are now defending."
Soon about three thousand warriors were in the field, eager and willing to assist the American troops under General Boyd, who advanced into the State of New York to battle with the British. On August 13th a fierce fight took place at Fort George, in which the British were badly routed and a number of the British Indians were captured by the Senecas under Red Jacket.
"The bravery and humanity of the Indians were equally conspicuous," says General Boyd in his dispatch. "They behaved with great gallantry."
After the battle the Senecas neither scalped nor murdered the dead, which was most extraordinary for Indians. But at a council held the day before the battle, they had agreed not to follow their usual custom—a method of procedure which Red Jacket strongly advocated. He, himself, fought courageously with his followers; was seen to lead a charge more than once; and certainly did away with any notions which his braves might have entertained regarding his lack of courage in battle. "Cow-killer" he was named no longer, and, after the conclusion of peace between the English and Americans, he began with accustomed energy to again direct the civil interests of the Senecas.
Numerous white missionaries now came to the country of the Indians, endeavoring as well as they could to establish Christianity among the savages. One of these—a missionary named Cram—made a long speech to the Senecas, telling them that there was but one religion, and unless they adopted it they could not prosper; that they had lived all their lives in darkness; and that his object in talking to them was not to get away their lands, or money, but to turn them towards the true Gospel. Finally, he asked them to state their objections, if they had any, to the adoption of his religion.
He closed his address with a strong appeal to their reasoning powers, and, after he had finished speaking, the Seneca Chiefs retired for a conference. After several hours of talking, Red Jacket came from the tent in which they had been seated, and striding forward, delivered the following speech, which stands as one of the greatest examples of Indian eloquence that is known to history.
"Friend and Brother!" he began. "It was the will of the Great Spirit that we should meet together this day. He orders all things, and he has given us a fine day for our council. He has taken his garment from before the sun and has caused the bright orb to shine with brightness upon us. Our eyes are opened so that we see clearly. Our ears are unstopped so that we have been able to distinctly hear the words which you have spoken. For all these favors we thank the Great Spirit and him only.
"Brother! This council fire was kindled by you. It was at your request that we came together at this time. We have listened with attention to what you have said. You have requested us to speak our minds freely. This gives us great joy, for we now consider that we stand upright before you, and can speak what we think. All have heard your voice and all speak to you as one man. Our minds are agreed.
"Brother! You say that you want an answer to your talk before you leave this place. It is right that you should have one, as you are a great distance from home, and we do not wish to detain you. But we will first look back a little, and tell you what our fathers have told us, and what we have heard from the white people.
"Brother! Listen to what we say. There was a time when our forefathers owned this great island (meaning the continent of North America—a common belief among the Indians). Their seats extended from the rising to the setting of the sun. The Great Spirit had made it for the use of Indians. He had created the buffalo, the deer, and other animals for food. He made the bear and the deer, and their skins served us for clothing. He had scattered them over the country, and had taught us how to take them. He had caused the earth to produce corn for bread. All this he had done for his red children because he loved them. If we had any disputes about hunting grounds, they were generally settled without the shedding of much blood. But an evil day came upon us. Your forefathers crossed the great waters and landed on this island. Their numbers were small. They found friends and not enemies. They told us they had fled from their own country for fear of wicked men, and had come here to enjoy their religion. They asked for a small seat. We took pity on them, granted their request and they sat down amongst us. We gave them corn and meat. They gave us poison (spirituous liquor) in return. The white people had now found our country. Tidings were carried back and more came amongst us. Yet we did not fear them. We took them to be friends. They called us brothers. We believed them and gave them a large seat. At length their numbers had greatly increased. They wanted more land. They wanted our country. Our eyes were opened, and our minds became uneasy. Wars took place. Indians were hired to fight against Indians, and many of our people were destroyed. They also brought strong liquors among us. It was strong and powerful and has slain thousands.
"Brother! Our seats were once large, and yours were very small. You have now become a great people, and we have scarcely a place left to spread our blankets. You have got our country, but you are not satisfied. You want to force your religion upon us.
"Brother! Continue to listen. You say that you are sent to instruct us how to worship the Great Spirit agreeably to his mind; and if we do not take hold of the religion which you white people teach we shall be unhappy hereafter. You say that you are right, and we are lost. How do we know this to be true? We understand that your religion is written in a book. If it was intended for us as well as for you, why has not the Great Spirit given it to us; and not only to us, but why did he not give to our forefathers the knowledge of that book, with the means of understanding it rightly? We only know what you tell us about it. How shall we know when to believe, being so often deceived by the white people?
"Brother! You say there is but one way to worship and serve the Great Spirit. If there is but one religion, why do you white people differ so much about it? Why not all agree, as you can all read the book?
"Brother! We do not understand these things. We are told that your religion was given to your forefathers and has been handed down, father to son. We also have a religion which was given to our forefathers, and has been handed down to us, their children. We worship that way. It teaches us to be thankful for all the favors we receive, to love each other, and to be united. We never quarrel about religion.
"Brother! The Great Spirit has made us all. But he has made a great difference between his white and red children. He has given us a different complexion and different customs. To you he has given the arts; to these he has not opened our eyes. We know these things to be true. Since he has made so great a difference between us in other things, why may not we conclude that he has given us a different religion, according to our understanding? The Great Spirit does right. He knows what is best for his children. We are satisfied.
"Brother! We do not wish to destroy your religion, or to take it from you. We only want to enjoy our own.
"Brother! You say you have not come to get our land or our money, but to enlighten our minds. I will now tell you that I have been at your meetings and saw you collecting money from the meeting. I cannot tell what this money was intended for, but suppose it was for your minister; and if we should conform to your way of thinking, perhaps you may want some from us.
"Brother! We are told that you have been preaching to white people in this place. These people are our neighbors. We are acquainted with them. We will wait a little while, and see what effect your preaching has upon them. If we find it does them good and makes them honest and less disposed to cheat Indians, we will then consider again what you have said.
"Brother! You have now heard our answer to your talk, and this is all we have to say at present. As we are going to part, we will come and take you by the hand, and hope the Great Spirit will protect you on your journey, and return you safe to your friends."
There is little doubt that Red Jacket appreciated his own prowess to the full and realized what a wonderful control he had over his followers. In the council chamber he was supreme and usually was able to sway the feelings of his hearers in whatever direction he wished. Some one inquired one day what deeds of blood he had done in order to make himself a true warrior among the Senecas, and to this he replied: "A warrior! I am an orator! I was born an orator."
A young French nobleman visited Buffalo about 1815, and hearing of the wonderful speaker, sent word to Red Jacket that he wished to talk with him. But the oratorical chief received this message with contempt. "Tell the young man that if he wishes to visit the old chief he will find him with his nation," said he, "where other strangers pay their respect to him, and Red Jacket will be glad to see him." To this the Frenchman sent back word that he had taken a long journey and was fatigued, that he had come all the way from France to see the great orator of the Seneca nation and hoped he would not refuse to meet him at Buffalo. To this the Seneca brave sent the following answer: "Tell him that having come so far to see me it is strange he should stop within seven miles of my lodge." "By Gad," said the nobleman, when this message was delivered to him, "such a man of spirit must indeed be worth journeying to see," and, without more ado, he hastened to the lodge of the sarcastic Red Jacket. The Seneca orator now consented to dine with him at Buffalo, and, after the repast, the enthusiastic Frenchman exclaimed: "He is a remarkable man. Had he been white, he would have one of the greatest reputations of the ages. He is a wonder greater than Niagara Falls, which I have just visited."
Shortly after this an Indian was executed for the murder of his wife, and a great crowd journeyed to see the hanging. Red Jacket, however, was met going in the opposite direction from the scene. "Why do you not go to see this affair?" asked a friend. "Fools enough are there already," replied the great orator. "Battle is the proper place to see men die."
"When I dined with President Washington," said he to a gentleman, "a man ran off with my knife and fork every now and again, and returned with others. What was that for?"
"There are a great many dishes," replied the gentleman, "each cooked in a different manner. Every time a new dish is brought on the table, the knives and forks are changed."
"Ah," said Red Jacket, thoughtfully, "is that it? You must then suppose that the plates and knives and forks retain the taste of the cookery?"
"Yes," answered the white man.
"Have you then any method by which you can change your palates every time you change your plates? For I think the taste would remain on the palate longer than it would on the plate."
"We are in the habit of washing the taste on our palates away with wine," answered the gentleman.
"Ah, I understand!" ejaculated Red Jacket. "I was persuaded that so general a custom among you must be founded on reason, and I only regret that when I was in Philadelphia I did not understand it. The moment the man went off with my plate, I would have drunk wine until he brought me another; for although I am fond of eating, I am more so of drinking."
This famous orator was not only fully conscious of his own ability to sway the emotions of others, but he had his full share of vanity. His forehead was lofty and capacious; his eye was black and piercing; his nose was sharply aquiline; while his cheek was well rounded. Every feature marked a man of noble qualities, while an air of dignified self-possession made a deep impression upon all with whom he came in contact. When speaking, his eyes flashed fire, his body was continually moving in the effort of speech-making, while the ready words poured from his lips in a steady stream. The cadence of his speech was measured and very musical, and when excited he would spring to his feet, elevate his head, expand his arms and utter, with indescribable effort of manner and tone, some great and noble thoughts. A gentleman of the period has written: "It has been my good fortune to hear the masterful Red Jacket but a few times in late years when his powers were much enfeebled by old age and intemperance, but I shall never forget the impression made upon me the first time that I saw him in council. The English language has no figures to convey the true meaning of his speech, and, though coming through the medium of an illiterate interpreter, I could well realize that he was giving me a great oration."
The great Seneca was twice married, and, although he had a large family, many of his children died of consumption. A lady who took an interest in the Seneca Nation once asked him whether he had any children living. "Red Jacket was once a great man, and was in favor with the Great Spirit," sorrowfully answered the Chief. "He was a lofty pine among the smaller trees of the forest, but after years of glory he degraded himself by drinking the fire water of the white man. The Great Spirit has, therefore, looked upon him in anger, and his lightning has stripped the pine of its branches and left standing only the scarred trunk, dead at the top."
What the noted Seneca said of his degradation was unfortunately too true, so true, in fact, that he was deposed by the members of his tribe because of this intemperance. Several rival chiefs were jealous of his position, which partly explained this action of the Senecas, although his opposition to the introduction of the Christian religion into the tribe was also a reason for removing him from the position of Head Chief.
Red Jacket—with the true spirit of a warrior—was scarcely prepared to submit to such a degradation, particularly as he knew that the true motives of the chiefs who had deposed him were those of jealousy. He felt the sting of shame, and remarked to one of his tribe, with much feeling: "It shall not be said that Sa-go-ye-wat-ha lived in insignificance and died in dishonor. Am I too feeble to revenge myself upon my enemies? Am I not as I have been? I will call in the other tribes of the Six Nations, and we will see whether or no Red Jacket will be deposed." Consequently, only a month after his deposition, a Grand Council of the chiefs of the Six Nations assembled together at the upper council house of the Seneca village reservation.
After all had seated themselves, the document deposing Red Jacket was read aloud, and then a Chief called Half Town arose, and in behalf of the Catteraugus Indians (a tribe of the Six Nations) said that there was but one opinion in his nation, and that was of general indignation at the ousting of Red Jacket from his position as Chief Sachem. Several other chiefs addressed the council to the same effect, and, at the close of their speeches, the condemned orator arose very slowly, as if grieved and humiliated, but still possessing his ancient air of command.
After a solemn pause he began to speak. "My brothers," said he, "you have this day been correctly informed of an attempt to make me sit down and throw off the authority of a chief, by twenty-six misguided chiefs of my nation. You have heard the statements of my associates in council and their explanations of the foolish charges brought against me. I have taken the legal and proper way to meet these charges. It is the only way in which I could notice them: charges which I despise and which nothing would induce me to notice, but the concern which many respected chiefs of my nation feel in the character of their aged comrade. Were it otherwise, I should not be before you. I would fold my arms and sit quietly under their ridiculous slander.
"The Christian party has not even proceeded legally, according to our usages, to put me down. Ah! It grieves my heart when I look around me and see the situation of my people, in old times united and powerful, now divided and feeble. I feel sorry for my nation. When I am gone to the other world—when the Great Spirit calls me away—who among my people can take my place? Many years have I guided my nation."
He now spoke of the attacks upon him and said that they were incited by jealousy. He alluded to the course taken by those of his own tribe who had turned Christians as being ruinous and disgraceful, especially in the abandonment of the religion of their fathers, and their sacrifice to the whites for a few trinkets of the land left them by their forefathers. "I will not consent silently to be trampled under foot," he concluded. "As long as I can raise my voice I will oppose such measures. As long as I can stand in my moccasins, I will do all that I can for my nation."
Such was the power of the old chief's oration, that, at the close of this speech, he was almost unanimously reelected to the position of Chief Sachem, a position which he had held for many years, and which he was now to hold until his death.
Shortly after this affair the great orator's second wife joined the Christian Church, to which he, himself, was opposed. Consequently Red Jacket immediately left her and went to live in another Seneca reservation. But he was far from happy when separated from those whom he loved, and those whom he left behind were far from happy without him. The old chief was devoted to his little daughter, and he missed her caresses and love. At length, he could stand the separation no longer, and, through the agency of this little girl, a reconciliation was effected with his excellent squaw. Red Jacket promised that he would not again interfere with his wife's religious privileges, and to his credit be it said he never again objected to her religion or belief.
There he was living quietly and happily when suddenly taken ill in the council house, where he had gone one day, dressed with more than usual care and ornamented with all his best finery. When he returned to his tepee, he said to his wife. "I am ill. I could not stay until the council had finished. I shall never recover." So saying, he took off his rich dress, laid it carefully away, lay down upon his couch and did not rise again until morning. His wife then prepared some medicine for him, which he patiently took, saying: "It will do me no good. I shall die."
He then requested his faithful squaw to send his little girl to him, and when she had come near he bade her sit beside him and listen to his parting words. "My good wife," said he, "I am going to die. Never again shall I leave my home alive. I wish to thank you for your kindness to me. You have loved me. You have always prepared my food and taken care of my clothes, and been patient with me. I am sorry that I ever treated you unkindly. I am sorry that I left you because of your new religion, and I am convinced that it is a good religion and has made you a better woman, and I wish you to persevere in it. I should like to have lived a little longer for your sake. I meant to build you a new house and make you more comfortable, but it is now too late. But I hope my daughter will remember what I have often told her, not to go in the streets with strangers or improper persons. She must stay at home with her mother.
"When I am dead, it will be noised abroad through all the world; they will hear of it across the great waters, and will say: 'Red Jacket, the great orator, is dead.' And white men will come and ask you for my body. They will wish to bury me. But do not let them take me. Clothe me in my simplest dress, put on my leggins and my moccasins, and hang the cross which I have worn so long around my neck, and let it lie upon my bosom. Then bury me among my people. Neither do I wish to be buried with Pagan rites. I wish the ceremonies to be as you like, according to the customs of your new religion, if you choose. Your minister says that the dead will rise. Perhaps they will. If they do, I wish to rise with my old comrades. I do not wish to rise among palefaces. I wish to be surrounded by red men. Do not make a feast according to the custom of the Indians. Whenever my friends chose they could come and feast with me when I was well, and I do not wish those who have eaten with me in my cabin to surfeit at my funeral feast."
When the great Chief had finished, he laid himself upon his couch, took his little daughter fondly by the hand, and did not rise again. A few days later death overtook him, and at his funeral many parties of his own tribe were present. His body was removed from his cabin into the mission house, where religious services were performed—services in which the visiting Indians took little interest. Wrapped in profound and solemn thought, they waited until the minister had concluded, and then some arose to address their own countrymen in their own language. Several orators recounted the virtues and exploits of the dead Chief, and of the deeds of their Great Nation, and, as they looked about them, tears trickled down the cheeks of the last of the Senecas, for there around them was only the miserable remnant of a once glorious nation.
Red Jacket was buried in the little mission burying ground, at the gateway of what once had been an American fortification. A simple shaft of granite was erected to mark his grave, and the spot became a resort for travellers from far and near. Upon the tombstone was cut the following inscription:
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Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha The Keeper Awake Red Jacket Chief of the Wolf Tribe of the Senecas. Died Jan. 20, 1830 Age, 78 years. |
This headstone was desecrated by relic hunters until the name disappeared from the marble. The famous chieftain's body was afterwards removed to Buffalo, where, at the home of his own people, it remained unburied for many years, as they—knowing that his last wish was not to rise among the palefaces—did not care to allow him to lie among the members of a race which he disliked.
Recently a splendid monument has been erected to the great Seneca at Buffalo. A statue on top of the shaft is a fitting tribute to this great orator of the redskins, this man of masterful speech and noble form, who—like Daniel Webster—could sway the thoughts of his hearers by the magic of his utterance and the fascination of his thought. His body now rests among those of a different race, but his name still lives in the annals of American history as the one Chief whose logic and reasoning was, in a measure, equal to that of the all-conquering Anglo-Saxons.