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    From the Deep Woods to Civilization
    From the Deep Woods to Civilization
    From the Deep Woods to Civilization
    Ebook154 pages6 hours

    From the Deep Woods to Civilization

    By Charles A. Eastman

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    First published in 1916, “From the Deep Woods to Civilization” is the fascinating life account by Charles A. Eastman. Born in 1858 on a Santee Dakota reservation near Redwood Falls, Minnesota, Eastman was educated as a physician at Boston University and was a prolific author and national lecturer. Widely regarded as one of the twentieth-century’s most important speakers on Sioux culture and history, Eastman was a significant figure in the movement to reform laws and attitudes towards Native Americans. Eastman first documented his childhood in his 1902 memoir “Indian Boyhood”, which chronicles his time with the Dakota Sioux on the reservation until he was 15 years old and left to pursue a Western education. Eastman’s memoir was widely read and did much to change perceptions of Sioux culture. “From the Deep Woods to Civilization” picks up where “Indian Boyhood” left off and follows Eastman as he attended school with white students, became certified as a medical doctor, and worked tirelessly to benefit his fellow Native Americans. A uniquely American story, Eastman’s autobiography is a rich and deeply satisfying account of struggle and perseverance. This edition includes a biographical afterword.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigireads.com Publishing
    Release dateJul 12, 2020
    ISBN9781420973891
    From the Deep Woods to Civilization
    Author

    Charles A. Eastman

    Charles Eastman (1858-1939) was a Santee Dakota physician, lecturer, activist, and writer. Born Hakadah in Minnesota, he was the last of five children of Mary Nancy Eastman, a woman of mixed racial heritage who died shortly after giving birth. Separated from his father and siblings during the Dakota War of 1862, Eastman—who later earned the name Ohíye S'a—was raised by his maternal grandmother in North Dakota and Manitoba. Fifteen years later, he was reunited with his father and oldest brother—who were presumed dead—in South Dakota. At his father’s encouragement, Ohíye S'a converted to Christianity and took the name Charles Alexander Eastman, which he would use for the rest of his life. Educated at Dartmouth College, Eastman enrolled in Boston University’s medical program after graduating in 1897. He completed his medical degree in 1890, making him one of the first Native Americans to do so. Eastman then moved back to South Dakota, where he worked as a physician for the Bureau of Indian Affairs at the Pine Ridge and Crow Creek Reservations. During a period of economic hardship, he used his wife Elaine Goodale’s encouragement to write stories about his childhood, a few of which found publication in St. Nicholas Magazine. In 1902, he published Memories of an Indian Boyhood, a memoir about his life among the Dakota Sioux. In addition to his writing, Eastman maintained a private medical practice, helped establish the Boy Scouts of America, worked as a spokesman for the YMCA and Carlisle Indian Industrial School, and acted as an advisor to several Presidential administrations.

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      Book preview

      From the Deep Woods to Civilization - Charles A. Eastman

      cover.jpg

      FROM THE DEEP WOODS

      TO CIVILIZATION

      By CHARLES A. EASTMAN

      From the Deep Woods to Civilization

      By Charles A. Eastman

      Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-7326-6

      eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-7389-1

      This edition copyright © 2021. Digireads.com Publishing.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

      Cover Image: a detail of a portrait of the author which appears as a frontispiece in the book.

      Please visit www.digireads.com

      CONTENTS

      FOREWORD

      I. THE WAY OPENS

      II. MY FIRST SCHOOL DAYS

      III. ON THE WHITE MAN’S TRAIL

      IV. COLLEGE LIFE IN THE WEST

      V. COLLEGE LIFE IN THE EAST

      VI. A DOCTOR AMONG THE INDIANS

      VII. THE GHOST DANCE WAR

      VIII. WAR WITH THE POLITICIANS

      IX. CIVILIZATION AS PREACHED AND PRACTISED

      X. AT THE NATION’S CAPITAL

      XI. BACK TO THE WOODS

      XII. THE SOUL OF THE WHITE MAN

      BIOGRAPHICAL AFTERWORD

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      Foreword

      Indian Boyhood, published first in 1902 and in many subsequent editions, pictures the first of three distinct periods in the life of the writer of this book. His childhood and youth were a part of the free wilderness life of the first American a life that is gone forever! By dint of much persuasion, the story has now been carried on from the point of that plunge into the unknown with which the first book ends, a change so abrupt and so overwhelming that the boy of fifteen felt as if he were dead and travelling to the spirit land. We are now to hear of a single-hearted quest throughout eighteen years of adolescence and early maturity, for the attainment of the modern ideal of Christian culture: and again of a quarter of a century devoted to testing that hard-won standard in various fields of endeavor, partly by holding it up before his own race, and partly by interpreting their racial ideals to the white man, leading in the end to a partial reaction in favor of the earlier, the simpler, perhaps the more spiritual philosophy. It is clearly impossible to tell the whole story, but much that cannot be told may be read between the lines. The broad outlines, the salient features of an uncommon experience are here set forth in the hope that they may strengthen for some readers the conception of our common humanity.

      E. G. E.

      I. The Way Opens

      One can never be sure of what a day may bring to pass. At the age of fifteen years, the deepening current of my life swung upon such a pivotal day, and in the twinkling of an eye its whole course was utterly changed; as if a little mountain brook should pause and turn upon itself to gather strength for the long journey toward an unknown ocean.

      From childhood I was consciously trained to be a man; that was, after all, the basic thing; but after this I was trained to be a warrior and a hunter, and not to care for money or possessions, but to be in the broadest sense a public servant. After arriving at a reverent sense of the pervading presence of the Spirit and Giver of Life, and a deep consciousness of the brotherhood of man, the first thing for me to accomplish was to adapt myself perfectly to natural things in other words, to harmonize myself with nature. To this end I was made to build a body both symmetrical and enduring a house for the soul to live in a sturdy house, defying the elements. I must have faith and patience; I must learn self-control and be able to maintain silence. I must do with as little as possible and start with nothing most of the time, because a true Indian always shares whatever he may possess.

      I felt no hatred for our tribal foes. I looked upon them more as the college athlete regards his rivals from another college. There was no thought of destroying a nation, taking away their country or reducing the people to servitude, for my race rather honored and bestowed gifts upon their enemies at the next peaceful meeting, until they had adopted the usages of the white man’s warfare for spoliation and conquest.

      There was one unfortunate thing about my early training, however; that is, I was taught never to spare a citizen of the United States, although we were on friendly terms with the Canadian white men. The explanation is simple. My people had been turned out of some of the finest country in the world, now forming the great states of Minnesota and Iowa. The Americans pretended to buy the land at ten cents an acre, but never paid the price; the debt stands unpaid to this day. Because they did not pay, the Sioux protested; finally came the outbreak of 1862 in Minnesota, when many settlers were killed, and forthwith our people, such as were left alive, were driven by the troops into exile.

      My father, who was among the fugitives in Canada, had been betrayed by a half-breed across the United States line, near what is now the city of Winnipeg. Some of the party were hanged at Fort Snelling, near St. Paul. We supposed, and, in fact, we were informed that all were hanged. This was why my uncle, in whose family I lived, had taught me never to spare a white man from the United States.

      During the summer and winter of 1871, the band of Sioux to which I belonged a clan of the Wahʹpetons, or Dwellers among the Leaves—roamed in the upper Missouri region and along the Yellowstone River. In that year I tasted to the full the joy and plenty of wild existence. I saw buffalo, elk, and antelope in herds numbering thousands. The forests teemed with deer, and in the Bad Lands dwelt the Big Horns or Rocky Mountain sheep. At this period, grizzly bears were numerous and were brought into camp quite commonly, like any other game.

      We frequently met and camped with the Hudson Bay half-breeds in their summer hunt of the buffalo, and we were on terms of friendship with the Assiniboines and the Crees, but in frequent collision with the Blackfeet, the Gros Ventres, and the Crows. However, there were times of truce when all met in peace for a great midsummer festival and exchange of gifts. The Sioux roamed over an area nearly a thousand miles in extent. In the summer we gathered together in large numbers, but towards fall we would divide into small groups or bands and scatter for the trapping and the winter hunt. Most of us hugged the wooded river bottoms; some depended entirely upon the buffalo for food, while others, and among these my immediate kindred, hunted all kinds of game, and trapped and fished as well.

      Thus I was trained thoroughly for an all-round out-door life and for all natural emergencies. I was a good rider and a good shot with the bow and arrow, alert and alive to everything that came within my ken. I had never known nor ever expected to know any life but this.

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      In the winter and summer of 1872, we drifted toward the southern part of what is now Manitoba. In this wild, rolling country I rapidly matured, and laid, as I supposed, the foundations of my life career, never dreaming of anything beyond this manful and honest, unhampered existence. My horse and my dog were my closest companions. I regarded them as brothers, and if there was a hereafter, I expected to meet them there. With them I went out daily into the wilderness to seek inspiration and store up strength for coming manhood. My teachers dreamed no more than I of any change in my prospects. I had now taken part in all our tribal activities except that of war, and was nearly old enough to be initiated into the ritual of the war-path. The world was full of natural rivalry; I was eager for the day.

      I had attained the age of fifteen years and was about to enter into and realize a man’s life, as we Indians understood it, when the change came. One fine September morning as I returned from the daily hunt, there seemed to be an unusual stir and excitement as I approached our camp. My faithful grandmother was on the watch and met me to break the news. Your father has come—he whom we thought dead at the hands of the white men, she said.

      It was a day of miracle in the deep Canadian wilderness, before the Canadian Pacific had been even dreamed of, while the Indian and the buffalo still held sway over the vast plains of Manitoba east of the Rocky Mountains. It was, perhaps, because he was my honored father that I lent my bewildered ear to his eloquent exposition of the so-called civilized life, or the way of the white man. I could not doubt my own father, so mysteriously come back to us, as it were, from the spirit land; yet there was a voice within saying to me, A false life! a treacherous life!

      In accordance with my training, I asked few questions, although many arose in my mind. I simply tried silently to fit the new ideas like so many blocks into the pattern of my philosophy, while according to my untutored logic some did not seem to have straight sides or square corners to fit in with the cardinal principles of eternal justice. My father had been converted by Protestant missionaries, and he gave me a totally new vision of the white man, as a religious man and a kindly. But when he related how he had set apart every seventh day for religious duties and the worship of God, laying aside every other occupation on that day, I could not forbear exclaiming, Father! and does he then forget God during the six days and do as he pleases?

      Our own life, I will admit, is the best in a world of our own, such as we have enjoyed for ages, said my father. "But here is a race which has learned to weigh and measure everything, time and labor and the results of labor, and has learned to accumulate and preserve both wealth and the records of experience for future generations. You yourselves know and use some of the wonderful inventions of the white man, such as guns and gunpowder, knives and hatchets, garments of every description, and there are thousands of other things both beautiful and useful.

      Above all, they have their Great Teacher, whom they call Jesus, and he taught them to pass on their wisdom and knowledge to all other races. It is true that they have subdued and taught many peoples, and our own must eventually bow to this law; the sooner we accept their mode of life and follow their teaching, the better it will be for us all. I have thought much on this matter and such is my conclusion.

      There was a mingling of admiration and indignation in my mind as I listened. My father’s two brothers were still far from being convinced; but filial

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