[Poems by Hopkins in] The Echo :: :: University of Virginia Library

[The foregoing sounds made by H H Brackenridge, have reached the Echo, which in faithfulness she is obliged to respond. It is presumed there were others equally important, but, being indistinct, they are lost to immortality.

I grant my pardon to that dreaming clan,
Who think that Indians have the rights of man;
Who deem the dark skinn'd chiefs, those miscreants base,
Have souls like ours, and are of human race;
And say the scheme so wise, so nobly plann'd.
For rooting out these serpents from the land,

To kill their squaws, their children yet unborn,
To burn their wigwams, and pull up their corn;
By sword and fire to purge the unhallow'd train,
And kindly send them to a world of pain,
Is vile, unjust, absurd:—as if our God
One single thought on Indians e'er bestow'd,
To them his care extends, or even knew,
Before Columbus told him where they grew.

O could I, pois'd on Observation's wings,
Point whence the Indian's ruthless temper springs,
That ruthless temper which, like bear unchain'd,
Is proof to kindness, nor by fear restrain'd,
Could that vast knowledge which my skull contains,
Once find its passage from my wilder'd brains,
And spring to view with recollection fraught,
Of all I've ever dreamt, or ever thought;
Then would I tell of homicides so dire,
Of tom'hawk, scalping-knife, and torturing fire,
Of wicked pole at the Miami town,
Which Harmar went on purpose to pull down,
While roused to pity by the potent strain,
Humanity herself would grow humane;
The soul would shudder, and the cheek turn pale,
And uncork'd feelings foam like bottled ale;

Not for those soulless heathen of the wood,
But christian folks of kindred flesh and blood,
Pity, meek habitant of yonder sky,
Wipes the full tear-drop from her dewy eye,
As, from her throne of never fading light,
O'er western worlds she bends her anxious sight,
Thy LAMBS, Kentucky! claim her darling care,
Expos'd to all the miseries of war;

Unkindly left, without defence or stay,
To savage Wolves a weak unshielded prey;
Those savage Wolves, in cruelty grown old,
Who torture prisoners when their blood is cold.

All this;—while on our part, so mild and good,
No one e'er thought of spilling Indian blood,
Save once, when Susquehannah's trout-fill'd wave,
And twice Ohio form'd their watery grave:
Though those whom valiant Brady sent to pot,

SINCE the preceding notes were printed, accidentally recurring to Hole's remarks on the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, a work containing much curious research and information, we have met with a singular account of the derivation of the vulgar saying “gone to pot,” which, as it may serve to amuse our readers, we have thought proper to throw into the form of a note to the above line. Mr. Hole observes that, notwithstanding its being apparently indigenous, it was imported to England from the extremity of the globe, the metropolis of Tartary: “We are told that a tailor of Samarcand, who lived near the gate which led to the burial ground, whenever a corpse was carried by, threw a little stone into an earthern pot fixed to his cupboard, to calculate the number of deaths in a certain space of time. At length the tailor himself died; and a passenger, observing his shop to be shut up, inquired of a neighbour after him and was answered: “The tailor is gone to pot as well as the rest.”

Perhaps were friendly, and perhaps were not.
But best it is, as ancient proverbs say,
Never to let occasion run away:
And pat another proverb meets my eye,
While the sun shines, spread out your hay to dry;
As haply that good Man would ne'er again
Have caught a chance to tap an Indian's brain;
Yet mild humanity inspir'd the deed,
And gave those wandering savages to bleed,
For as, with toil severe, fatigu'd, they plied
Their bark, fur-laden, down the rapid tide,
Kind Brady took compassion on their woes,
And bade in endless sleep their weary labours close.
But circumstances strong arise to shew
That these were foes, of foes the vilest too;
For tis a fact well known our parts throughout,
A friendly Indian can't be worth a groat.

Therefore, where'er we can a savage find
Who has a skin or blanket to our mind,
Presuming they were stole, since well we know
Nor furs, nor blankets, can on Indians grow,
We ought forthwith to kill the hostile brute,
And strip him of his goods, and scalp to boot;
While this reflection gives no small relief,
That after all 'tis nought but stealing from a thief.

I view the men, who ne'er a savage saw,
Like those young girls whose minds begin to thaw,
In Fancy's spring, when wild romances start
The mind to mischief, and to love the heart.
The one is solely bent on plotting evil;
The other thinks an Indian is the devil;
The first employs her industry and art
To raise a bobbery in the human heart;
The last with pure devotion worships God
By offering incense sweet of scalps and blood.
The sage Philosopher, by ign'rance fir'd,
Of genteel vice, and common follies tir'd,
Thinks Virtue's hallowed form alone is found
Where squaws cut capers o'er the desart ground.
He sees green spring in their rude minds appear,
And their brown skins disclose the falling year.
Experience only can the pill dispense,
Which purges off this calenture of sense.
All that is great in man, I do suppose,
From education, and from College flows,
And those brown tribes, who snuff the desart air,
Are aunts and cousins to the skunk and bear.

I know Cornplanter, and I know Big-Tree,
I know Half-Town, and I know all the three:

They're very clever; but do what you will,
Indians and rum, are rum and Indians still.

From desart wastes a mighty Indian came,
Robb'd of an eye, blind Sam his royal name;
Brought to this Town, in wampum richly gay,
At balls he pass'd the night, at clubs the day;
In crowds the ladies to his Levee ran,
All wish'd to see, and touch, the tawny man,
Happy were those who saw his stately stride,
Thrice happy those who felt his naked hide.
As school-boys, when a monkey comes in sight,
Forsake their games, and chase him with delight;
View with astonishment the stalking creature,
So sleek and pretty in a state of nature;
Thus sparkling belles the Indian flock'd around,
Charm'd with his melting eye, his voice's silver sound,
And as the Cyclops graciously held up
His copper lips to give them all a sup,
Some thought for very joy they should have died,
Some thought they were bewitch'd, and some beatified.

All gracious heaven! can that high favour'd isle
Where at my birth Creation tried to smile,
When pigs and ram-cats trill'd their tuneful strains,
And geese quack'd grateful anthems o'er the plains;
Where, on a car of fire sublimely borne,
Great Milton soar'd beyond the blaze of morn;
Where bonnie Hume on raven pinions flew,
And croak'd more truths than science ever knew,

Where, from the shrines of slavery and despair,
Howard's rich incense floats along the air.—
Bear up a wretch whose bloody arm can aid
An Indian's knife to scalp a White-man's head,
Or from his vengeful hand forbear to pull
The axe all batter'd on the soldier's skull,
That skull by nature harden'd for the toil
Of butting Indians on Kentucky's soil?
This might be done if, bursting through the charm,
Britain would stretch her old, big, pestling arm,
From that blest hour war's crimson ensign furl'd,
Her throne a wigwam in the western world,
Peace at my word, shall walk the carnag'd field,
And turn'd to pot-lid every savage shield.
Let me be safe, and then I'll plainly shew
The de---l may take the Squaws and Indians too.
The question is which of us shall obey?
Shall we make brooms and baskets—or shall they?
I say let's fight, regardless of their groans,
And bring the wretches on their marrow bones;
For every man who lies beneath his foe,
Dreads the deep bruising of the fateful blow.
When I say govern I'd be understood
To mean the simple right to shed their blood,
That right which Nature, ever good and kind,
Wrote with her finger on the White-man's mind.

Was there a single thing that ever saw
A chief or half a king, or all a squaw;
Or heard of Kickapoos the guttural sound
Rumble like earthquakes stifled under ground,
But thought he understood th'incongruous strain,
Of those erst scatter'd over Shinar's plain

And had no doubt without or force or law
His whistle-pipe these pigeons wild would draw
Tame to his coop, where he them safe might pen,
Pluck off their plumes and make them look like men,
No more with these dark devils let us chase
A mongrel system of half war, half peace;
'Tis nonsense all—the word is—fight, or yield—
An Indian master, or a bloody field.

The talents of the Secretary at war, however generally esteem'd, have been too long concealed under the shade of a peaceful administration. We sincerely congratulate the public on their late glorious emersion from that obscurity. The well concerted plan, and skilful arrangements, of the two late expeditions, have discovered a genius for war, and a foresight scarce to be paralleled in the annals of time. The sacrifice of two armies, in order to lull the savages into such perfect security as to render them an easy conquest to General Scott, and the brave Kentucky Militia, is a stroke of masterly and unprecedented policy; and more especially when we consider the armies thus wisely sacrificed, as consisting mostly of men whose services were worth but two dollars a month—a cheap purchase of the lives and properties of the noble sons of Kentucky.

In order fully to shew the singularly peaceable, and gentle disposition of these good people (not to mention the massacre of the Moravian Indians, when, under pretence of celebrating divine worship, their white brethren convened them in the church and piously dashed their infants against the wall) I shall select two instances out of the many which are related of their extraordinary humanity. Not many years since the legislature of Kentucky, from the purest motives, no doubt, proclaimed a bounty of a hundred dollars for any Indian scalp. A gentleman in that country, who, in his intercourse with the natives, had married one of their women, by whom he had several children, inspired with true patriotic zeal, and parental affection, made a visit to the unsuspecting family, and, while they were asleep, kindly dismissed them to the Indian paradise, took off their scalps as a memorial of love, received the premium of his noble services, and was advanced to a post of honour and profit under that government.

The other is as follows.—In the summer of 1788, Col. Logan, with a party of Militia from Kentucky, sat out on an expedition against the Pickewa town. They were discovered by some young warriors, out on a hunting party, who immediately returned, and gave information to their old Chief Melaanthee. But relying on the faith of a Treaty, executed but the preceding spring, he refused to believe that any injury was intended by the Whites to him, or his people; and in full assurance of a friendly reception, advanced to meet them, displaying in one hand the treaty signed by the American commissioners, and in the other the flag of the United States, which he had received at the same time. Being informed of their intention to put him to death, he told them—“That he and his people were the friends of the thirteen fires, and had faithfully observed the Treaty made with their Chiefs.”— and holding up the flag—“this,” said he, “I have received from your Chiefs, as the mark of friendship, and on this I place mine and my people's protection.”—Yet all these marks of unsuspecting confidence, attended with the most artless protestations of friendship, could not impose upon these experienced men, who thought it much less safe to trust an Indian in this world than the other, and, in conformity to this humane sentiment, put a speedy period to his existence with the tomahawk, and the standard thus gloriously obtained, was for several weeks triumphantly displayed on the Court-House at Lexington, as a trophy sacred to humanity.

For the aptitude and beauty of this epithet, see the speech of the Hon John Vining, on the question for altering the Seat of Government.

Philadelphia.

It is presumed that Royal Sam had his Levees as well as other distinguished personages.

Mr. B*********** in contra-distinction to Lord Monboddo's theory, seems to have been of the opinion of that Naturalist who considers man as belonging to the class of birds; that is, a two-legged animal without feathers.