Gift books; Indians of North America -- Literary collections
"This conference has become one of the most striking scenes in history.
Artists have painted, poets have sung, philosophers have applauded
it; but it is nevertheless clear, that in words and colours it has
been equally and generally misrepresented, because painters, poets,
and historians have chosen to draw on their own imaginations for the
features of a scene, every marking line of which they might have
recovered from authentic sources.
"The great outlines of nature are easily obtained. There, the dense
masses of cedar, pine, and chestnut, stretching far away into the
interior of the land; here, the noble river rolling its waters down
to the Atlantic Ocean; along its surface rose the purple smoke of the
settlers' homestead; on the opposite shores lay the fertile and settled
country of New Jersey. Here stood the gigantic elm which was to become
immortal from that day forward,--and there lay the verdant council
chamber formed by nature on the surface of the soil. In the centre
stood William Penn, in costume undistinguished from the surrounding
group, save by the silken sash. His costume was simple, but not
pedantic or ungainly: an outer coat, reaching to the knees, and covered
with buttons, a vest of other materials, but equally ample, trousers
extremely full, slashed at the sides, and tied with strings or ribbons,
a profusion of shirt sleeves and ruffles, with a hat of the cavalier
shape (wanting only the feather), from beneath the brim of which
escaped the curls of a new peruke, were the chief and not ungraceful
ingredients.[3] At his right hand stood Colonel Markham, who had met
the Indians in council more than once on that identical spot, and was
regarded by them as a firm and faithful friend; on his left Pearson,
the intrepid companion of his voyage; and near his person, but a little
backward, a band of his most attached adherents. When the Indians
approached in their old forest costume, their bright feathers sparkling
in the sun, and their bodies painted in the most gorgeous manner, the
governor received them with the easy dignity of one accustomed to mix
with European courts. As soon as the reception was over, the sachems
retired to a short distance, and after a brief consultation among
themselves, Taminent, the chief sachem or king, a man whose virtues
are still remembered by the sons of the forest, advanced again a few
paces, and put upon his own head a chaplet, into which was twisted a
small horn: this chaplet was his symbol of power; and in the customs of
the Lenni Lenapé, whenever the chief placed it upon his brows the spot
became at once sacred, and the person of every one present inviolable.
The venerable Indian king then seated himself on the ground, with the
older sachems on his right and left, the middle-aged warriors ranged
themselves in the form of a crescent or half-moon round them, and the
younger men formed a third and outer semicircle. All being seated in
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