A Farewell to Bartram Via His Observations on Creek Euthanasia Practices

Before I went amongst the Indians I had often heard it reported that these people, when their parents, through extreme old age, become decrepid and helpless, in compassion for their miseries, send them to the other world, by a stroke of the tomahawk or bullet. Such a degree of depravity and species of impiety always appeared to me so incredibly inhuman and horrid, it was with the utmost difficulty that I assumed resolution sufficient to enquire into it.

The traders assured me they knew no instance of such barbarism, but that there had been instances of the communities performing such a deed at the earnest request of the victim.

When I was at Mucclasse town, early one morning, at the invitation of the chief trader, we repaired to the public square, taking with us some presents for the Indian chiefs. On our arrival we took out seats in a circle of venerable men, round a fire in the centre of the area; other citizens were continually coming in, and amongst them I was struck with awe and veneration at the appearance of a very aged man; his hair, what little he had, was as white as snow; he was conducted by three young men, one having hold of each arm, and the third behind to steady him. On his approach the whole circle saluted him, “welcome,” and made way for him: he looked as smiling and cheerful as youth, yet stone-blind by extreme old age; he was the most ancient chief of the town, and they all seemed to reverence him. Soon after the old man had seated himself I distributed my presents, giving him a very fine handkerchief and a twist of choice Tobacco; which passed through the hands of an elderly chief who sat next to him, telling him it was a present from one of their white brothers, lately arrived in the nation from Charleston: he received the present with a smile, and thanked me, returning the favour immediately with his own stone pipe and cat skin of Tobacco, and then complimented me with a long oration, the purport of which was the value he set on the friendship of the Carolinians: he said, that when he was a young man they had no iron hatchets, pots, hoes, knives, razors nor guns, but that they then made use of their own stone axes, clay pots, flint knives, bows and arrows; and that he was the first man who brought the white peoples goods into his town, which he did on his back from Charleston, five hundred miles on foot, for they had no horses then amongst them.

The trader then related to me an anecdote concerning this ancient patriarch, which occurred not long since.

One morning after his attendants had led him to the council fire, before seating himself he addressed himself to the people after this manner –

“You yet love me; what can I do now to merit your regard? Nothing; I am good for nothing; I cannot see to shoot the buck or hunt up the sturdy bear; I know I am but a burthen to you; I have lived long enough; now let my spirit go; I want to see the warriors of my youth in the country of spirits; (bareing his breast) here is the hatchet; take it and strike.” They answered with one united voice, “We will not; we cannot; we want you here.”

--pages 119-120.

The Creeks’ Religious Beliefs

In the first paragraph they sound like most 21st century Americans . . . .

These Indians are by no means idolaters, unless their puffing the Tobacco smoke towards the sun, and rejoicing at the appearance of the new moon*, may be termed so, so far from idolatry are they, that they have no images amongst them, nor any religious rite or ceremony that I could perceive; but adore the Great Spirit, the giver and taker away of the breath of life, with the most profound and respectful homage. They believe in a future state, where the spirit exists, which they call the world of spirits, where they enjoy different degrees of tranquility or comforts, agreeable to their life spent here: a person who in this life has been an industrious hunter, provided well for his family, an intrepid and active warrior, just, upright, and done all the good he could, will, they say, in the world of spirits, live in a warm, pleasant country, where are expansive, green, flowery savannas and high forests, watered with rivers of pure waters, replenished with deer, and every species of game; a serene, unclouded and peaceful sky; in short, where there is fullness of pleasure, uninterrupted.

They have many accounts of trances and visions of their people, who have been supposed to be dead, but afterwards reviving have related their visions, which tend to enforce the practice of virtue and the moral duties.

--page 119

*[Bartram’s footnote (which must have been too risqué to include directly in the text!):] “I have observed the young fellows very merry and jocose, at the appearance of the new moon, saying, how ashamed she looks under the veil, since sleeping with the sun these two or three nights, she is ashamed to shew her face, &c.”

A Sabbath Rest

In the Creek village of Attasi, near Tallassee, Alabama, on the Tallapoosa River in far south Alabama, Mr. Bartram encounters an unexpected Sunday custom:

On the Sabbath day before I set off from this place, I could not help observing the solemnity of the town, the silence and the retiredness of the red inhabitants, but a very few of them were to be seen, the doors of their dwellings shut, and if a child changed to stray out, it was quickly drawn in doors again: I asked the meaning of this, and was immediately answered, that it being the white people's beloved day or Sabbath, the Indians kept it religiously sacred to the Great Spirit.

--page 106.

But Then The Other Moccasin Drops

From my last post, one might get the wrong impression about the native peoples of our fair Southeast. The Seminoles may have partied hard in northwest Florida, but the Creeks (a/k/a "Muscogulges"), who lived in Alabama, took a decidedly different view of "spiritous liquors":

The Muscogulges, with their confederates, the Chactaws, Chicasaws, and perhaps the Cherokees, eminently deserve the encomium of all nations, for their wisdom and virtue in resisting and even repeling the greatest, and even the common enemy of mankind, at least of most of the Eurpoean nations, I mean spiritous liquors.

The first and most cogent article in all their treaties with the white people, is that there shall not be any kind of spiritous liquors sold or brought into their towns; and the traders are allowed but two kegs (five gallons each) which is supposed to be sufficient for a company, to serve them on the road, and if any of this remains on their approaching the towns, they must spill it on the ground or secrete it on the road, for it must not come into the town.

On my journey from Mobile to the Nation, just after we had passed the junction of the Pensacola road with our path, two young traders overtook us on their way to the Nation. We enquired what news? They informed us that they were running about forty kegs of Jamaica spirits (which by dashing would have made at least eighty kegs) to the Nation; and after having left the town three or four days, they were surprised on the road in the evening, just after they had come to camp, by a party of Creeks, who discovering their species of merchandize, they forthwith struck their tomahawks into every keg, giving the liquor to the thirsty sand, not tasting a drop of it themselves, and they had enough to do to keep the tomahawks from their own skulls.

--page 116.

So it's not just fundamentalist Christianity after all that makes it hard to buy good liquor and impossible to buy high-alcohol beer in Alabama; it turns out that temperance just runs in the Alabama soil!

Party Time in Northwest Florida, "Indian Style"

Maybe THIS explains why Florida State picked the Seminoles for their mascot . . . .

At the trading-house I found a very large party of the Lower Creeks encamped in a grove, just without the pallisadoes; this was a predatory band of the Siminoles, consisting of about forty warriors destined against the Chactaws of West Florida. They had just arrived here from St. Augustine, where they had been with a large troop of horses for sale, and furnished themselves with a very liberal supply of spiritous liquors, about twenty kegs, each containing five gallons.

These sons of Mars had the continence and fortitude to withstand the temptation of even tasting a drop of it until their arrival here, where they purposed to supply themselves with necessary articles to equip them for the expedition, and proceed on directly; but here meeting with our young traders and pack-horse men, they were soon prevailed on to broach their beloved nectar; which in the end caused some disturbance, and the consumption of most of their liquor, for after they had once got a smack of it, they never were sober for ten days, and by that time there was but little left.

In a few days this festival exhibited one of the most ludicrous bachanalian scenes that is possible to be conceived, white and red men and women without distinction, passed the day merrily with these jovial, amorous topers, and the nights in convivial songs, dances and sacrifices to Venus, as long as they could stand or move; for in these frolicks both sexes take those liberties with each other, and act, without constraint or shame, such scenes as they would abhor when sober or in their senses; and would endanger their ears and even their lives; but at last their liquor running low, and being most of them sick through intoxication, they became more sober, and now the dejected lifeless sots would pawn every thing they were in possession of, for a mouthful of spirits to settle their stomachs, as they termed it. This was the time for the wenches to make their market, as they had the fortitude and subtilty by dissimulation and artifice to save their share of the liquor during the frolick, and that by a very singular stratagem, for, at these riots, every fellow who joins in the club, has his own quart bottle of rum in his hand, holding it by the neck so sure that he never looses hold or it day or night, drunk or sober, as long as the frolick continues, and with this, his beloved friend, he roves about continually, singing, roaring and reeling to and fro, either alone or arm in arm with a brother toper, presenting his bottle to every one, offering a drink, and is sure to meet his beloved female if he can, whom he complaisantly begs to drink with him, but the modest fair, veiling her face in a mantle, refuses (at the beginning of the frolick) but he presses and at last insists; she being furnished with an empty bottle, concealed in her mantle, at last consents, and taking a good long draught, blushes, drops her pretty face on her bosom and artfully discharges the rum into her bottle, and by repeating this artifice soon fills it; this she privately conveys to her secret store, and then returns to the jovial game, and so on during the festival; and when the comic farce is over, the wench retails this precious cordial to them at her own price.

--pages 65-66.

A Fishing Excursion for Trout with the Bob

Wherein Mr. Bartram shares a great fishing story from over two hundred years ago:

Towards the evening after the sultry heats were past, a young man of our company, having previously procured the loan of a canoe from an Indian, proposed to me a fishing excursion for trout with the bob. We sat off down the river, and before we had passed two miles caught enough for our hous[e]hold: he was an excellent hand at this kind of diversion; some of the fish were so large and strong in their element, as to shake his arms stoutly and dragged us with the canoe over the floods before we got them in. It is in the eddy coves, under the points and turnings of the river, where the surface of the waters for some acres is covered with the leaves of the Nymphea, Pistia and other amphibious herbs and grass, where the haunts and retreats of this famous fish are, as well as others of various tribes.

Observing a fishing canoe of Indians turning a point below and coming towards us, who hailing us, we waited their coming up; they were cheerful merry fellows, and insisted on our accepting of part of their fish, they having a greater quantity and variety, especially of the bream my favourite fish; we exchanged some of our trout with them.

--page 61

Crossing A River

It was tougher going from place to place in the old days. I can only imagine having to build my own raft -- I'm pretty sure I'd lose everything in the river. The bit about the Loyalists is a nice historical touch.

A few days before we arrived at the Nation we met a company of emigrants from Georgia; a man, his wife, a young woman, several young children and three stout young men, with about a dozen horses loaded with their property. They informed us their design was the settle on the Alabama a few miles above the confluence of the Tombigbe. [The editors' footnotes indicate that these were in all likelihood Loyalists fleeing the Revolution in the east.]

Being now near the Nation, the chief trader with another of our company sat off a-head for his town, to give notice to the Nation, as he said, of his approach with the merchandize, each of them taking the best horse they could pick out of the gang, leaving the goods to the conduct and care of the young Mustee and myself. Early in the evening we came to the banks of a large deep creek, a considerable branch of the Alabama: the waters ran furiously, being overcharged with the floods of rain which had fallen the day before. We discovered immediately that there was no possibility of crossing it by fording; its depth and rapidity would have swept our horses, loads and all, instantly from our sight; my companion, after consideration, said we must make a raft to ferry over our goods, which we immediately set about, after unloading our horses and turning them out to range. I undertook to collect dry Canes, and my companion dry timber or logs and vines to bind them together: having gathered the necessary materials, and laid them in order on the brink of the river, ready to work upon, we betook ourselves to repose, and early next morning set about building our raft. This was a novel scene to me, and I could not, until finished and put to practice, well comprehend how it could possibly answer the effect desired. In the first place we laid, parallel to each other, dry, sound trunks of trees, about nine feet in length, and eight or nine inches diameter, which binding fast together with Grape vines and withs, until we had formed this first floor, about twelve or fourteen feet in length, then binding the dry Canes in bundles, each near as thick as a man's body, with which we formed the upper stratum, laying them close by the side of each other and binding them fast; after this manner our raft was constructed: then having two strong Grape vines, each long enough to cross the river, we fastened one to each end of the raft, which now being completed, and loading on as much as it would safely carry, the Indian took one of the ends of the vines in his mouth, plunged into the river and swam over with it, and the vine fixed to the other end was committed to my charge, to steady the raft and haul it back again after being unloaded; as soon as he had safe landed and hauled tight his vine, I pushed off the raft, which he drew over as quick as possible, I steadying it with my vine: in this manner, though with inexpressible danger of losing our efforts, we ferried all safe over: the last load, with other articles, contained my property, with all my clothes, which I stripped off, except my breeches, for they contained matters of more value and consequence than all the rest of my property put together; besides, I did not choose to expose myself entirely naked to the alligators and serpents when crossing the flood. Now seeing all of the goods safe over, and the horses at a landing place on the bank of the river about fifty yards above, I drove them all in together, when, seeing them safe landed, I plunged in after them, and being a tollerable swimmer, soon reached the opposite shore; but my difficulties at this place were not yet at an end, for our horses all landing just below the mouth of a considerable branch of this river, of fifteen or twenty feet width, and its perpendicular banks almost as many feet in height above its swift waters, over which we were obliged to carry every article of our effects, and this by no other bridge than a sapling fell across it, which is called a raccoon bridge, and over this my Indian friend would trip as quick and light as that quadruped, with one hundred weight of leather on his back, when I was scarcely able to shuffle myself along over it astride. At last having re-packed and sat off again, without any material occurrence intervening; in the evening we arrived at the banks of the great Tallapoose river, and came to camp under shelter of some Indian cabins, in expansive fields, close to the river bank, opposite the town of Savannuca. Late in the evening a young white man, in great haste and seeming confusion, joined our camp, who immediately related, that being on his journey from Pensacola, it happened that the very night after we had passed the company of emigrants, he met them and joined their camp in the evening, when, just at dark, the Chactaws surrounded them, plundered their camp, and carried all the people off captive, except himself, he having the good fortune to escape with his horse, though closely pursued.

pages 99-100.

The Tale of the Unhappy Trader

On our arrival at the upper store, we found it occupied by a white trader, who had for a companion, a very handsome Siminole young woman. Her father, who was a prince, by the name of the White Captain, was an old chief of the Siminoles, and with part of his family, to the number of ten or twelve, were encamped in an Orange grove near the stores, having lately come in from a hunt.

[The white trader] is at this time, unhappy in his connections with his beautiful savage. It is but a few years since he came here, I think from North Carolina, a stout genteel well-bred man, active, and of a heroic and amiable disposition, and by his industry, honesty, and engaging manners, had gained the affections of the Indians, and soon made a little fortune by traffic with the Siminoles: when, unfortunately, meeting with this little charmer, they were married in the Indian manner. He loves her sincerely, as she possesses every perfection in her person to render a man happy. Her features are beautiful, and manners engaging. Innocence, modesty, and love, appear to a stranger in every action and movement; and these powerful graces she has so artfully played upon her beguiled and vanquished lover, and unhappy slave, as to have already drained him of all his possessions, which she dishonestly distributes amongst her savage relations. He is now poor, emaciated, and half distracted, often threatening to shoot her, and afterwards put an end to his own life; yet he has not resolution even to leave her; but now endeavors to drown and forget his sorrows, in deep draughts of brandy. Her father condemns her dishonest and cruel conduct.

These particulars were related to me by my old friend the trader [not the white trader in question, it would seem], directly after a long conference which he had with the White Captain on the subject, his son in law being present. The scene was affecting; they both shed tears plentifully. My reasons for mentioning this affair, so foreign to my business, was to exhibit an instance of the power of beauty in a savage, and their art and finesse in improving it to their private ends. It is, however, but doing justice to the virtue and moral conduct of the Siminoles, and American Aborigines in general, to observe, that the character of this woman is condemned and detested by her own people, of both sexes; and if her husband should turn her away, according to the customs and usages of these people, she would not get a husband again, as a divorce seldom takes place but in consequence of a deliberate impartial trial, and public condemnation, and then she would be looked upon as a harlot.

Such is the virtue of these u[n]tutored savages: but I am afraid this is a common phrase epithet, having no meaning, or at least improperly applied; for these people are both well tutored and civil; and it is apparent to an impartial observer, who resides but a little time amongst them, that it is from the most delicate sense of the honour and reputation of their tribes and families, that their laws and customs receive their force and energy. This is the divine principle which influences their moral conduct, and solely preserves their constitution and civil government in that purity in which they are found to prevail amongst them.

pages 46-47.

I Wonder If He Dropped in at the Florabama?

Between 1773 and 1776, a Quaker named William Bartram traveled by boat, horseback and foot through Georgia and what was then East Florida (now just Florida) and West Florida (now part Florida and part Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana). His sponsor, Dr. John Fothergill, commissioned him to take the journey to draw (Bartram was a talented artist) and take samples of the plant life of this relatively unexplored -- or at least undocumented -- part of North America. But like Alexis de Toqueville, whose commission was merely to inspect American prisons to get ideas for improving French prisons, Bartram didn't allow his sponsor's limited designs to curtail his human and scientific interest in all the unusual things he saw on his journey, not the least of which was the native Americans (a/k/a "savages") that were the predominant population in the area at the time.

Bartram is read fondly today for his detailed observations of nature, his beautiful drawings, and his enlightened-for-the-time attitude toward the "indigenous peoples". I appreciated the humanizing effect his account has on these people so many years later. I've spent a fair amount of time in the areas Bartram traveled, and reading about what went on here and who lived here so long ago is a lot like reading about exploration of an alien culture on an alien planet. The times they have certainly changed.

The book pictured isn't Bartram's entire work, to which he assigned the wonderfully eighteenth century title "Travels Through North & South Carolina, Georgia, East & West Florida, the Cherokee Country, the Extensive Territories of the Muscogules, or Creek Confederacy, and the County of the Chactaws; Containing an Account of the Soil and Natural Production of Those Regions, Together with Observations on the Manners of the Indians." Instead it is an edited compilation of selections from that work and some other Bartram writings on the Southeastern Indians with an extended background introduction and footnotes. So if you're looking for the plant stuff, you'll have to find a different edition!

The guy on the cover is the "Long Warrior", who was the "Mico-chlucco" [literally "big ruler"], the "King of the Muscogulges or Cricks [i.e., Creek Indians]". He lived in north central Florida.

An Answer for Darren's Professor, 17 Years Later

In a 1991 telephone conversation, my friend Darren, parroting one of his college professors, pointed to Mr. Buckley as an example of someone who had created his own identity by adopting a British accent even though he was "as American as we are" (and that's pretty darn American, lest you wonder). I hadn't been reading Buckley long and wasn't sure what to make of Darren's professor's judgment in this regard. If it was an act, it was certainly a good one deserving of applause and the purchase of a magazine subscription ("if you don't like it, you can buurrn your back issues!" said Mr. Buckley in the television commercials for National Review of that period). Over the years, I gathered that Mr. Buckley's accent wasn't exactly a put-on, he and his family having lived in several different countries in his youth. But I'd forgotten about that conversation with Darren until I read the definitive explanation for the mysterious accent in this book:

September 15, 1989

Mr. James Fallows
Boston, Mass.

Dear Mr. Fallows:

The Best of Business Quarterly for Summer 1989 quotes you as follows: "Americans acquire the patina of old money by pretending that they are Englishmen. William F. Buckley, Jr., has basically the same lineage as, say, Lyndon Johnson. Johnson was descended from rural Texas politicians, and so is Buckley, whose grandfather was a sheriff in south Texas. But instead of wearing a cowboy hat and leisure suit, like Johnson, Buckley made himself sound as if he were a tenth-generation Old Etonian. In a sense, he is the classic American, since he has completely invented a new identity for himself."

You should know that the invention of myself as a tenth-generation Old Etonian required a great deal of planning. I (and my four younger siblings) spoke only Spanish at home (my parents had lived in Mexico after they were married). At age 3, I went to my first school -- in Paris, where the language is French, even among the nouveaux. I was exposed to English for the first time in London, at age five, when I was enrolled in the Blessed Sir Thomas More School. From there I went to New England and, at age 12, back to England to a boarding school (St. Johns, Beaumont, six miles from Eton) (by the way, if you think I speak with an Eton accent, you don't know an Eton accent); then to boarding school in the Hudson Valley. During this period I visited Texas twice, once for three days, once for two days. But then the affinity between Lyndon Johnson and my grandfather was certainly strong: although my grandfather died in 1904, he voted for Johnson in 1948.

Having quoted you on the subject, I do hope you know more about the production of F-16s than you do about the production of Buckleys. If not, you should write about other things.

Yours truly,

Wm. F. Buckley, Jr.

--page 199. Darren, your professor stands corrected along with Mr. Fallows.

Dateline 1980: Buckley Renegs on Vassar College Commencement Address

In the Spring of 1980, Mr. Buckley had accepted an invitation to speak at the Vassar College commencement exercises in May of that year. After his acceptance the students began agitating against him, culminating in 53% of the class opposing his appearance according to the student newspaper. "Spring at Vassar is traditionally lively," the university president explained.

Here's an excerpt from Buckley's response:

I decline the invitation to participate in Vassar's Commencement exercises.

You stressed the point, in your open letter to the student body of April 21, that you had invited me pursuant to established procedures for selecting a Commencement speaker. I do not doubt that you did, but there is no gainsaying, notwithstanding that your invitation was issued in the name of the senior class, that a numerical majority of that same class have recorded their opposition to my speaking at Commencement.

Moreover, I tend to agree that Commencement speakers are an integral part of the ceremony, broadly viewed; and although Commencement speakers cannot reasonably be expected to incarnate the institution at which they speak (unless they are Douglas MacArthur, addressing West Point), their physical presence should not ordinarily be offensive to the majority of the graduating class: indeed, it is for this reason that most colleges consult the senior class on the matter of a Commencement speaker.

The majority of the senior class of Vassar does not desire my company, and I must confess, having read specimens of their thoughts and sentiments, that I do not desire the company of the majority of the senior class of Vassar. Really, they appear to be a fearfully ill-instructed body, to judge from the dismayingly uninformed opinions expressed in their newspaper, which opinions reflect an academic and cultural training very nearly unique -- at least, in my experience. I have spoken, I suppose, at five hundred colleges and universities in the past thirty years, and nowhere have I encountered that blend of ferocious illiteracy achieved by the young men and women of Vassar who say they speak for the majority of the graduating class and, to some extent, say so plausibly by adducing the signatures of the majority of that class in their recall petition. One professor of English writes to the newspaper, "It was Buckley who offered pridefully in those days the caste of mind and insinuating attitudes toward academics which intellectually veneered the crudities of Joe McCarthy, and in so doing, fueled 'McCarthyism' at its most virulent pitch with respect to the academic community." That the man who composed that sentence should be teaching English at Vassar rather than studying it suggests that Vassar has much, much deeper problems than coming up with a suitable Commencement speaker.

pp. 137-38.