When the question arose in my mind in what line to follow up this brief report, it seemed to me that the subject of Indian wrongs and Indian rights had been sufficiently discussed for the present in this Association and elsewhere, and that it might be of advantage for us to look for a little while in another direction.
There are few, I suppose, who are aware of the largeness of this work as carried on upon our continent, few who appreciate the amount of real labor and real suffering, I may say, endured in this direction. In order to a correct estimate, it seems to me that we ought not to lose sight of, but rather we ought to recognize, the work which has been done by our Roman Catholic friends. They began as long ago as 1611, and from that date onward until 1832, at least, they carried on an extended work among the American Indians upon eight or ten different and important fields. I find, by looking over their lists, that 170 men gave themselves to the work of saving the Indian from barbarism and elevating him to a higher and Christian level during this period.
Then, in order to a correct appreciation of this work, we must remember also what our beloved friends, the Moravians, have done—not only what they did in Greenland, not only what they did in the West Indies, but what they did within the bounds of our own nation, especially in Pennsylvania and farther west. And so, too, we must recognize the work done by the Episcopalians and the Methodists and the Presbyterians, who, through a long series of years and in varied fields, have been laboring for the conversion of the American Indian.
But in none of these fields has a more satisfactory work been done than that which has been done in this America of ours by the Congregational churches and the men whom they have sent out. The missionary work among the American Indians began with the founding of the church in New England—began under the molding hand of John Elliot in Massachusetts. A hundred years later than the day when Elliot began that work another figure arose upon the stage of history: David Brainerd, the humble, quiet young man, who gave himself for Christ and for the beloved Indians, and labored and suffered even unto death. And then, when we come down to 1813 or thereabouts, we find the American Board, newly organized, turning its attention to the Indians in the South and Southwest. In the record of their early work we have such names as Cyrus Kingsbury and Byington and Father Gleason, and in the far West Williamson and Riggs, our lamented brethren to whom reference has already been made, and many others, some of whom are still with us, including our excellent brother and my fellow committeeman Rev. Cushing Eells.
Here we have a list of heroes doing their work quietly, silently, patiently, yet a work deserving to be called heroic, as much so as that which has been done on the islands of the sea and on the other side of the globe—a work in which noble men and women have taken part. What is the result? Here is the good seed sewing. What kind of a harvest has been gathered? There are those who think—perhaps it is the common impression—that the results of Indian missions have been meagre and of little value at the best; but let us consider. It seems to me that in any such calculation some account should be made of what may be called the reciprocal effect produced in the lives of the missionaries themselves and of the churches sending them forth. I observe that Dr. Shay, author of the History of Catholic Missions in America, referring to the extinction of the Spanish missions in the southern part of our country, says that even if they have become extinct and if there are no results that we can trace to-day, that does not count for their condemnation any more than the disappearance of the works of art produced so long ago by Apelles and Zeuxis is to the condemnation of those workers. He might have gone farther and called attention to the effect produced upon the artists themselves by their contributions to ancient art, the effect produced upon the artist anywhere by the work that he does in his own field, the effect produced upon the reformer by the work of reform which he accomplishes, the results produced in the lives of missionaries who constitute so large a company in our church from their labors, their sufferings and their sorrows.
I noticed in a past number of the American Missionary published during the present year that a cut had been reproduced representing a group of Indians watching a railroad train—an impressive picture; and it suggested to me that our aim should be to bring these Indians of the West where they shall not stand suspiciously watching a railroad train, the emblem of advancing civilization, but where they shall co-operate with us and appreciate the railroad train and make it theirs. We want them to adopt as rapidly as possible all the appliances of our civilization, and above all we want them to accept the Lord Jesus Christ.
ADDRESS OF REV. J. C. PRICE.
On the 1st of January, 1863, the negro was like a newly-built ship launched upon the waters without mast, sail or rudder. Pleased with liberty, he thought his happiness complete; but a few months’ experience taught him better. When the ballot was denied, when he could not—nay, more, when he cannot—claim as a right or privilege the comforts of travel; when deeply-rooted prejudice on account of his color and previous condition of servitude confronted him at every turn, he soon found that he had not reached the full stature of an American citizen, but was still in his infancy. And the question that presents itself to your minds, and to the friends of the negro and to ours, the orphaned recipients of your generosity, is, Has the negro grown any? has he made any noticeable advancement? Or is he where freedom found him and where slavery left him? January, 1863, found the negro penniless, ignorant, a homeless wanderer, his chief object to be in General Sherman’s army, or if not in it, in the wake of it; but he is now settled, fixed, and by industry and by perseverance he has purchased homes, and he and his children, through the generous aid of friends, have received some education. The land that he once sowed in slavish fear and reaped with trembling, he now sows in joy and gathers with the gladsome shout of a free and jubilant harvester. In fact, the material, as well as the intellectual and moral progress of the negro has surprised his best friends. He has gone forth without possessing the tattered garments that he wore, without a foot of soil on which to tread, and he has purchased those homes. And not only has he purchased them, but he has carried into them those things which make home what it is—the comforts of home. It is nothing strange to go into a Southern home and see a carpet on the floor. If it is not on all of it, it will be a big piece in the middle. And if you don’t find it all the way up-stairs, you will find a little as you step on the first step. That shows a disposition to do something that is elevating. And then the fact that they have purchased these homes is something. I have seen it repeated in the newspapers of the North—and I regret to say by men who do not know the negro—that he is a lazy, shiftless fellow. Well, they do not go down South, as we term it, and go into the negroes’ houses. They do not go into his colleges and universities and high schools, but they ride around by the station, they see a few at the depot—a lot of lazy negroes, as you find a lot of lazy white men under similar circumstances. They judge us unfairly. No man is judged by the worst, but by the best. Did you want Lord Chief Justice Coleridge to form an opinion of America by the men that he met by accident or saw in the slums of New York—“lazy” men, that he saw lounging around the corners of the streets? No; you wanted him to judge you by your best, and you put your best forward. Now, what we ask for the negro is that he be judged by his best and not by his worst. Of course, the best is always in the minority, but that is the way we are judged. If these same men were to go into the South and go into the negroes’ homes, they would find there very often excellent comfort. Some one has asked whether the negro has any of this race prejudice in him. No; he will give you the best bed and the fattest pig and the best chicken he has got in the yard. There is no prejudice there. And then, not only these things, but you find in many of their houses instruments of music—some with an organ, some with a piano; and you can find young girls there who can play on both, and if you want a little singing they can do that too. Negroes can sing as well as my friends the Chinamen. These things, too, are not only found in the cities but in the country places and villages.