THE GEORGE CATLIN INDIAN GALLERY. 25 



on August 27 and 28, 1832, Black Hawk thus addressed General 

 Street : 



My warriors fell around me. It began to look dismal. I saw my evil day at hand. 

 The sun rose clear on us in the morning ; at night it sank in a dark cloud, and looked 

 like a ball of fire. This was the last sun that shone on Black Hawk. He is now a 

 prisoner to the white man, but he can stand torture. He is not afraid of death. He 

 is no coward. Black Hawk is an Indian. He has done nothing of which an Indian 

 need be ashamed. He has fought the battles of his country against the white man, 

 who came year after year to cheat his people and take away their lands. You know 

 the cause of our making war. It is known to all white men. They ought to be 

 ashamed of it. The white men despise the Indians and drive them from their homes. 

 But the Indians are not deceitful. Indians do not steal. Black Hawk is satisfied. 

 He will go to the world of spirits contented. He has done his duty. His father will 

 meet and reward him. The white men do not scalp the heads, but they do worse, they 

 poison the heart. It is not pure with them. * * * 



Black Hawk and the Prophet, along with ten other warriors, were 

 taken to Jefferson Barracks, Saint Louis, in September, 1832. They 

 were thus described, whilst prisoners at Jefferson Barracks, where Mr. 

 Catlin painted them in October, 1832 : 



We were immediately struck with admiration at the gigantic and symmetrical figures 

 of most of these warriors, who seemed, as they reclined in native ease and gracefulness, 

 with their half naked bodies exposed to view, rather like statues from some master hand 

 than like beings of a race whom we had heard characterized as degenerate and de- 

 based. We extended our hands, which they rose to grasp, and to our question " How 

 d'ye do ?" they responded in the same words, accompanying them with a hearty shake. 

 They were clad in leggings and moccasins of buckskin, and wore blankets, which 

 were thrown around them in the manner of the Roman toga, so as to leave their right 

 arm bare. The youngest among them were painted on their necks with a bright ver- 

 milion color, and had their faces transversely streaked with alternate red and black 

 stripes. From their bodies and from their faces and eyebrows they pluck out the 

 hair with the most assiduous care. They also shave or pull it out from their heads, 

 with the exception of a tuft of about three fingers width, extending from between the 

 forehead and crown to the back of the head. This they sometimes plait into a queue 

 on the crown, and cut the edges of it down to an inch in length, and plaster it with 

 vermilion, which keeps it erect and gives it the appearance of a cock's comb. 



Black Hawk and his eleven warriors were taken, in 1832-'33, on a 

 tour through the Eastern States, and to visit the President, General 

 Jackson, at Washington, and were afterwards confined at Fortress 

 Monroe. At Philadelphia, June 10, 1833, they were described at the 

 hotel called Congress Hall as follows: 



We found most of them sitting or. lying on their beds. Black Hawk was sitting in 

 a chair and apparently depressed in spirits. He is about sixty-five, of middling size, 

 with a head that would excite the envy of a phrenologist — one of the finest that 

 Heaven ever let fall on the shoulders of an Indian. The Prophet has a coarser figure, 

 with less of intellect, but with the marks of decision and firmness. His face was 

 painted with red and white. The son of Black Hawk [No. 3] is a noble specimen of 

 physical beauty, a model for those who would embody the idea of strength. He was 

 painted and his hair cut and dressed in a strange fantasy. The other chiefs had noth- 

 ing in particular in their appearance to distinguish them from other natives of the 

 forest. 



Black Hawk and party visited President Jackson in the White House 

 on April 22, 1833. He saluted President Jackson with, it is said, "I 



