"Pauline Johnson on Her Indian Kin"

On a bright June day of 1920 we were strolling beneath the stately trees of Stanley Park on that first visit to Vancouver of happy memory. A curve in the road brought us to a spot near which the waves were breaking against the foot of Siwash Rock. A moment later a large, natural block of grey stone enclosed by a rustic railing came into view, and into the stone was cut the single word, "Pauline." Beneath it, we realized, rested the ashes of E. Pauline Johnson, poet, teller of tales, recorder of Indian legends; who had passed into the spirit world of her Indian ancestors seven years before. It was here, within sound of the salt waves and in the shadow of the giant Douglas firs, that Pauline had spent glorious hours, and her ashes had been carried there because it had been her wish. Standing beside the railing we thought of this gifted Canadian whose mother was a gentle English woman, her father, an Indian chief; and of the hours of pleasure the reading of her poems and stories had brought to us. In a simple gesture of gratitude and respect we walked back to downtown Vancouver, bought a spray of white carnations, carried it to that wayside grave and placed it beside the rock with its one-word inscription that seemed so eloquent - "Pauline." A striking symbolic monument has replaced the more primitive memorial of earlier days.

In recent days thoughts of Pauline Johnson have been much with us. This came about through the great kindness of our friend Dr. James Goodwin and his daughter Barbara, who presented us with a fine letter written by Miss Johnson years ago. Penned in response to a request from a Mr. Hopkins that she would write on certain Indian topics, she declined with regret. But in doing so she told of her Indian background and affections in an intimate way, and the letter has much biographical interest. It was dated at Brantford, the 5th of May, 1897, and we quote some passages from the five neatly written pages:

"I have made a life-study of the great Iroquois Confederation, and not only have I been brought up at the knee, you might say, of our late great historian Mr. Horatio Hale... but I have had the privilege of spending all my life in personal contact with the lineal descendants of the Great Chiefs of those times, and gained much of my knowledge of the history of my people from their own lips. Naturally, therefore, I have applied myself to the records of my own Nation, and thought little of other Red races in comparison with my own. I have shamefully neglected the study of other tribes, and buried all my faculties in the gigantic wonders of that Hiawatha League and its political economy...

"May I venture a suggestion? A very impertinent one too, I fear. That is, if you are arranging a paper on the Micmacs and Milicites of Nova Scotia, you will find Charles G. D. Roberts has them 'at his finger ends,' and has made a great study of their history. This is merely a hint which I hope you will pardon if I have been aggressive with it. I have no idea who could write of the Ontario Indians. It is large subject and I feel so lost about these matters since Mr. Hale's death, that naturally, I imagine no one will ever equal him as an authority. Again I thank you, again regret my ignorance, and with kind regards remain, yours faithfully, E. PAULINE JOHNSON (TEKAHIONWAKE).

Pauline Johnson whose poems and stories still delight thousands of readers, was born at Brantford, Ontario, on the Indian Reservation. Her father, Head Chief Johnson (Onwanonsyshon) of the Six Nations, lived in a fine home named "Chiefswood." All her life she was proud of her Indian blood. "Flint and Feather" is the title of her most famous book of verse. She gave many recitals in Canada and Britain, and while in England won the admiration of the poet Swinburne, among many famous folk. She died in Vancouver in 1913, at the age of 51. Few Canadian poets have achieved a more popular appeal; none has inspired a deeper affection.