The Rhetoric of Confession

For those of the Reformed faith, an ideal way to measure spiritual progress was through the act of writing. Writing allowed Reformed Christians to keep a permanent record of their thoughts and actions as each progressed in a personal quest for spiritual salvation. Equally important were the rhetorical devices these writers used to illustrate the authenticity of their desire to live in a state of grace. Such devices could include dramatic flourishes, repetition, anaphora, chiasmus, and parallelisms, among others. Similar rhetorical devices appear in many conversion narratives of well-educated New England ministers, trained in theology as well as the art of writing. What makes the above letter particularly interesting is that it was not written by a New England minister, but by a young Native American man engaged in the constant soul-searching common among his white, Euroamerican colonizers.

Joseph Johnson was a Mohegan Indian preacher and schoolteacher under the auspices of Eleazar Wheelock. His letters to Wheelock, an ordained minister of the Second Congregational Church at Lebanon Crank, Connecticut, and headmaster of Moor’s Charity School, span a period of twelve years from 1764 through 1776. These letters are an interesting scene of writing, illustrating for the reader a struggle in power relations between a dominant European civilization and a colonized people.

Looking at the above-quoted letter with twentieth-century eyes, one may find Joseph Johnson’s abjection and self-loathing to be off-putting, but the reader must bear in mind that religious doctrine required Christians to humble themselves before God and before their spiritual community. Nonetheless, there is still an element of discomfort when one is aware of Johnson’s position as an Indian in eighteenth-century colonial America. It is these two elements—Johnson as Christian and as Indian—that are of paramount significance to this work.

Johnson’s correspondence helps us to recognize the complex and problematic relationship that existed between Wheelock and the Indian students. The definition of that relationship was, as Johnson’s letters illustrate, of critical importance to Johnson’s struggle to unite two seemingly oppositional or incompatible identities: those of Christian and Indian. This paper will trace Johnson’s struggles to construct an identity through his appropriation of rhetorical Christian discourse and his interpretation of Reformed theology. Although both Christian discourse and theology were firmly embedded in Western civilization, Johnson was able to manipulate certain rhetorical and theological devices that made visible the power relations between him and Wheelock.

Most importantly, the correspondence reveals how Johnson, and others like him, responded to the imposition of Christianity on the Indian nations located within and around colonial America. Johnson’s letters and writings illustrate a refashioning of Christian doctrine that made it fundamentally different from the doctrine of Wheelock. The difference was founded not in race, but rather in understanding. Johnson’s definition and comprehension of regeneration tended toward Arminianism, Wheelock’s toward Calvinism.2 Johnson, and other students of Moor’s Charity School, stated on several occasions their choice to take part in activities deemed both improper and heretical. Many of these activities, as in Johnson’s case, took place after the writer had undergone a spiritual experience. Therefore, choosing to act in an improper manner meant that one was able to refuse a divine decree, the very point over which Arminians argued with Calvinist theologians.

On several occasions, Johnson bemoaned his failure to live a Christian life, yet consistently took responsibility for his own actions. In a letter written to Wheelock in 1774, Johnson asserted that he had “in times past crucified as it were, the Lord of Glory, even the Son of God, afresh and put him to an open shame.”3 Johnson’s words denoted action on his part: he crucified both God and Christ, not once, but many times afresh.

In laying claim to his actions, Johnson addressed a major dilemma inherent in Protestant doctrine: the relation between will and reason. According to Perry Miller, if will were to follow a regenerated reason, then grace would become no more than an intellectual exercise. On the other hand, if will were not subject to reason, then the Christian would be able to refuse God’s grace. Both views, according to Miller, were equally repugnant to Calvinists: the former discounts faith, the latter discounts divine decree.4 Yet, as we shall see, the writings of Wheelock’s Indians continually addressed one’s will as it related to the acceptance or refusal of God’s grace.

Eleazar Wheelock and the Function of Power

In order to examine the writings of Johnson and other members of Moor’s Charity School, I have turned to the work of both James C. Scott and Michel Foucault. Foucault and Scott chart the way in which subjugation and resistance are both material and discursive processes. Scott’s work focuses on two kinds of discourse that take place between the dominant and the subordinate: the public discourse, or transcript, and the critique of power that occurs “behind the back of the dominant,” the hidden transcript.5 Foucault, in both Discipline & Punish and The History of Sexuality, focused on the body as a site of power relations. The body is controlled through regimentation and surveillance. As we will see, Eleazar Wheelock’s civilizing mission included the strict control of activity, the constant gaze of authority, and the extraction of the confession.

In Johnson’s letters we can see the workings of Scott’s public and hidden transcripts as well as the workings of Foucault’s panopticism and his theory of the confession as a discourse firmly embedded in a power relationship, all of which contribute to the formation of Johnson as a colonized subject. In The History of Sexuality, Foucault wrote that confession is one method on which Western society relies for the production of truth; confession plays “a central role in the order of civil and religious powers.”6 By forcing Johnson and the others to confess their sins publicly, Wheelock constantly strengthened his power over them. Furthermore, these letters served as a permanent record of the students’ transgressions, allowing the confession to be alluded to repeatedly in order to reinforce the notion that the students were deficient in character and to cement the hierarchy of English over Indian.

Johnson’s letters illustrate that the formation of his subjectivity was not a steady affair. A closer look at them reveals a man who was trying to position himself in a changing world. And it is here, in the interpretation of Johnson’s letters, that I differ from James Scott. Scott argues that hidden transcripts take place away from, and outside of, dominant society’s observation. Johnson’s letters refute Scott’s argument, since they function as both public and private discourse: public because of their material existence, and private because they are the written conversation (confession) between pupil and mentor. This essay will demonstrate that a careful reading of these letters undermines one’s assumptions about the power relations that at first glance seem so obvious. Johnson was excruciatingly aware of the social hierarchy within his community. He attempted to come to terms with the racialist ideology of those in power and simultaneously construct an identity that would allow him to function fully in both the Indian and the white worlds, an identity that one cannot label Christian, in the Wheelockian sense, nor “Indian,” in the Krupatian sense.7

For European settlers in colonial America, the Christian school became a site for civilizing Native Americans. Wheelock, whose goal was to convert the Iroquois,8 founded the Indian Charity school, commonly known as Moor’s Charity School, in 1754; in its final incarnation, it became Dartmouth College. He referred to his efforts as a Great Design9 and was compelled as much by religious motives as he was by political and economic imperatives. France and England were in constant competition to win the allegiance of the Indians, and Wheelock believed that if half the money used to build and man fortifications had been spent on missionaries and schoolteachers, the “converted Indians ‘would have been a far better defence than all our expensive fortresses.’”10

Although a liberal thinker, Wheelock maintained that Indian conversion required a strictly regimented school day and constant surveillance:

Wheelock was creating what Foucault termed the “docile body.” During the eighteenth century, the body was identified as an “object and target of power.” Institutions such as schools and the military found that a body that is “manipulated, shaped, [and] trained” is, in turn, compliant, responsive, and proficient.12 Although Foucault restricted his study to Europe, one can apply his theory to Wheelock’s methodology as it pertained to his Indian students.

By strictly regimenting the actions of his students, Wheelock increased the utility of the Indians’ bodies while decreasing their autonomy. In other words, he forced their obedience in order to increase their productive capability. If one substitutes Moor’s Charity School for the Gobelins school, Foucault’s analysis of pedagogical discipline summarizes Wheelock’s goal:

The motivation behind Wheelock’s strict regimentation of the Indian body was to transform the “savage” into a reasonable facsimile of an English citizen. The important word here is “facsimile.” Wheelock strongly believed that an Indian could never disregard his true “nature”; it could only be controlled through confession and surveillance. Therefore, when Joseph Johnson left school to begin his missionary work, Wheelock received reports of his progress in Johnson’s own letters and in letters from others, including Samuel Kirkland, a white student of Wheelock’s, and Ralph Wheelock, Eleazar’s son.

Writing as Public Transcript

Wheelock promoted the idea of using his Indian students as missionaries to the more remote tribes, believing that they had an advantage over English-speaking missionaries, given the similarities in their language and their knowledge of Indian culture. However, as Laura Murray points out, Wheelock’s motives were not purely philanthropic: he sought students as a financial supplement to his meager salary.14 Wheelock sent his students to work on nearby farms several days a week, causing one of his students, Hezekiah Calvin, to level charges of theft and misuse against the Reverend. In a letter to Wheelock, Edward Deake, a white teacher in Rhode Island, listed Calvin’s allegations:

In addition to questioning the sincerity of Wheelock’s philanthropic motives, Calvin’s accusations illustrate the importance of the written word as it applied to the Indian student and his teacher. Evidently Calvin was unable to express his anger and frustration with Wheelock through a more direct communication such as a face-to-face confrontation or a personal letter. However, Calvin felt comfortable enough among his friends to express his concerns.

Another important aspect of Calvin’s accusations, as they relate to Joseph Johnson and the students of Moor’s Charity School, is the very survival of these accusations in the written record. Wheelock was extremely careful in preserving the letters his students wrote to him, but few of his responses exist. Deake’s letter allows us a rare glimpse into Wheelock’s character and his relationship to his Indian students. As this essay will demonstrate, letters from Kirkland and Ralph Wheelock that inform Wheelock of Johnson’s behavior and actions were likewise preserved.

Letters written by the Indians who attended Moor’s Charity School were extremely important to Wheelock’s fundraising efforts, which is why the Reverend took such pains to save them. Wheelock often sent copies of the letters to patrons in England and Scotland as proof of his capability to educate and convert the “savage and brutish” Indians.16 Johnson and his fellow students were aware of Wheelock’s methods, as the postscripts of letters from Johnson and David Fowler indicate. In a letter sent to Wheelock in May of 1765, Fowler closed with the following: “Sir, I hope you won’t let this letter be seen, I have no Table to write upon, besides I have not writ so long my Hand’s out of order.”17 In February of 1768, Johnson wrote a lengthy letter to Wheelock, adding, “Please sir to overlook my hast, an the many Blunders which I Suppose are in the paper. I have no time to write it over or correct it. Dont Expose it.”18 Thus, Johnson and his peers were aware that they were writing for a larger audience and that their “performance” affected Wheelock’s purse.

If Johnson and his peers were aware or their power over Wheelock, albeit limited, why this willingness to participate in his Great Design? To answer this, one must return to Scott’s work on power relations and resistance. Scott divides social subordination into two distinct, but related, areas: the public transcript and the hidden transcript. The public transcript is the open interaction between the dominant and the subordinate. The hidden transcript, as defined previously, characterizes subordinate discourse that “takes place ‘offstage,’ beyond direct observation by powerholders.” Hidden transcripts thus “confirm, contradict, or inflect what appears in the public transcript,” which Scott defines as “subordinate discourse in the presence of the dominant.”19 If one only looks at the public transcript, one fails to see the complete workings of power relations. For example, in the following quotations from Johnson and Fowler, one may discern little more than deference and consent.

But was this deference a tactic used to appease Wheelock? Is the obsequiousness that runs throughout Johnson’s letters a true indication of his relationship with Wheelock? Both questions can be answered in the positive. As Murray points out in her study of the letters of Calvin and Fowler, the relationship between Wheelock and the Indians was intense and complex.22 Following Scott’s argument, it is imperative that the subordinate fulfill the expectation of the dominant society. Scott goes on to state that “the public transcript will typically, by its accommodationist tone, provide convincing evidence for the hegemony of dominant values . . . ”23 Therefore, the public transcript between Johnson and Wheelock on its own shows Johnson playing the role of social subordinate.

Johnson’s first letter to Wheelock was written in 1764, while he was still attending the Indian Charity School. The circumstances surrounding the letter indicate that some type of altercation had occurred between Johnson and Eleazar Sweetland, a fellow student.

Although Johnson’s letter was a confession, he explained that Wheelock and those who witnessed the occurrence misunderstood his actions. He stated that the “true meaning” of this skirmish was “All in Jest,” confirmed by Sweetland himself, who “Witnesses to it.” Johnson was aware, however, that he must still confess to behaving inappropriately. He went on to say that “In a mean & Sordid Manner, I told him that I would do the Same to him. As he would do to the dog.” Johnson acknowledged his anger toward Sweetland for the latter’s treatment of a dog, but continued to affirm that both he and Sweetland were no more than playing around. If we take this letter in its social context, we see nothing more than a thirteen-year-old boy roughhousing with his peers. Wheelock, however, turned this normal activity into an opportunity to increase his control over Johnson and the other students by requiring a public and permanent confession.

Wheelock compelled his students to structure their confessions in the form of a letter, ensuring both the public knowledge of their sins and, by association, their public humiliation. What does this tell us about the power relations between Wheelock and the Indian students? One thing the letters illustrate is Foucault’s theory of surveillance as a form of disciplinary power.

Confessional letters written by Hezekiah Calvin, David Fowler, Nathan Clap, Hannah Nonesuch, Mary Secutor, and Jacob Wolley, as well as Joseph Johnson, are still extant. In addition, some letters were composed while the writer was still attending at Moor’s Charity School; others, including Johnson’s letter quoted below, were written from the student’s assigned missionary post.

Wheelock’s control over his Indian students reached much farther than mere physical proximity, as a letter to Wheelock from Hezekiah Calvin illustrates. Calvin, who entered Wheelock’s school in 1757, left in 1765 to teach among the Mohawks in Fort Hunter, New York. He wrote the following letter two years later:

Calvin’s statement that his “[s]choolmates . . . not take that example of me” indicates that he was aware of the public nature of the confession as employed by Wheelock. However, even more startling is the need Calvin felt to confess his behavior to Wheelock two years after leaving Moor’s Charity School. In this letter one can discern the extent of the power Wheelock had over his students and the students’ awareness of his “all-seeing” gaze. Confessing to Wheelock was tantamount to confessing to God. Calvin directed his promise to refrain from liquor not to God, but to Wheelock. In fact, the only mention of God is an appeal for assistance in keeping that promise.

Three of the confessions cited above were written in Wheelock’s handwriting, and at least one is believed to have been dictated by Wheelock. We have no way of knowing whether Wheelock copied these confessions or wrote them himself. Based on Foucault’s theory of the confession as a production of truth, I would argue that Wheelock impelled his students to produce their own confessions and then copied the confessions for use in his fundraising efforts. For the confession to produce truth, the speaking (or writing) subject must acknowledge his or her behavior. Foucault wrote that the confession is “a ritual that unfolds within a power relationship, for one does not confess without the presence (or virtual presence) of a partner who is not simply the interlocutor but the authority who requires the confession, prescribes and appreciates it, and intervenes in order to judge, punish, forgive, console, and reconcile . . . ”27 As letters such as Calvin’s and Johnson’s show, Wheelock was always present in the minds of the Indian students.

The Confession and Reformed Doctrine

Several of the confessional letters began as Mary Secutor’s did:

Secutor’s confession illustrates the views that Wheelock and other colonists held concerning Indian character. Exposure to drinking, dancing, and other “rude & unseemly” conduct was all that was needed to turn the Indian from civilized to savage. Secutor was unable to refrain from sinning because her very character prevented her from making that choice. The fact that she was a young girl who had been removed from a culture steeped in community gatherings was not considered. Mary Secutor and the other Indian students were expected, even obligated, to act as members of an English Protestant community, notwithstanding their upbringing as Indian children prior to their attendance at Moor’s Charity School.

The circumstances surrounding Secutor’s foray to the tavern provide evidence of yet another shortcoming. Her descent into sin followed a “publickly made” promise before the school not to “drink any spiritous liquor.” The fact that Secutor did so after she vowed to refrain from such behavior caused such abjection that the rest of her confession is almost too painful to read. However, what one finds striking in her statement is not the tone, but her will to sin. She was “fully sensable” [sic] that her conduct was both “wicked & sinful,” an action for which she was completely responsible after promising to refrain from such behavior. Secutor’s will to sin came some three months after an earlier transgression, after which she promised “by divine Grace to walk morally and in all Respects circumspectly, for time to come.”29

Protestant congregationalists strongly held that one could not refuse divine decree, that once justification had occured a person had experienced regeneration and was then a covenanted member of the community—a “visible saint.” Secutor’s two confessions clearly indicate a person who was not covenanted according to any Protestant definition. Furthermore, she had proactively engaged in committing “many gross sins.” Her ability to withstand “divine Grace” placed her squarely in the Arminian camp.

In several ways, Secutor’s confession was strikingly similar to that of Hezekiah Calvin. Both individuals stated that with God’s help they would rehabilitate themselves and abstain from such behavior in the future. In addition, both Calvin and Secutor warned others not to mimic their behavior, so as to avoid falling into the wickedness that had consumed them.

Like Mary Secutor’s confession, all those written within the school proper conclude with some type of attestation, usually by Eleazar Wheelock himself, Bezaleel Woodward, or Ralph Wheelock. As Murray states, writing down one’s actions serves as a reminder to “the confessor of the inferiority of his judgement and [causes] him to relive the embarrassment of misconduct reproved.”30 In addition, the attestation provides evidence of social hierarchy, not only that of Moor’s Charity School, but of the European colonizers and their Indian subjects. Wheelock’s signature (or that of Woodward or Ralph Wheelock) offered a validation to the confessor. Without the acknowledgment of one in authority, the confession would be ineffectual.

As noted above, Calvin’s confession was written after he had left Moor’s Charity School. As such, it is not an anomaly, as the correspondence of Johnson and others proves. Several of these letters are confessional in tone; Johnson penned one of them in 1768, two years after he had left Wheelock’s school and taken a position among the Oneida Indians as an assistant teacher to Samuel Kirkland. During this, Johnson’s final year among the Oneidas, he evidently engaged in behavior that was, by “Christian” standards, opprobrious. He “kept . . . strumpets . . . nigh two months last spring—drank up near three Gallⁿ of wine . . . & between 6 & 7 Gallⁿ of Rum.” In an even more heinous act, Johnson “turn’d pagan for about a week—painted, sung—danc’d—drank & whor’d it, w^h some of the savage Indians he cou’d find.”31

Johnson’s letter to Wheelock, written in December of 1768, reveals a man deeply ashamed of his behavior, yet oddly defiant. In it, he repeated the word deceitful, a direct reference to his perceived treatment by Wheelock himself. It is evident from a previous letter that Johnson was not trusted with any money and was hurt by this slur on his character. As he stated in a letter dated September 27, 1768, “I have not as yet been trusted with one Copper not So much as in sight . . . I have not yet been lavish of any of Christ money, or been found Dishonest. . . . Or ask M^r Kirkland if I Ever proved dishonest to any of the Money He has from time to time trusted me with, or to your Honoured son . . .”32 Johnson’s reference to his mistreatment undermines Scott’s theory that the hidden transcript takes place away from the gaze of the dominant. Johnson’s subtle, but obvious, criticism of Wheelock contrasts sharply with the rest of the December letter, which is filled with deep shame and misery.

Johnson’s letter serves as both confession and explanation. As much as he felt compelled to confess his sins, he also evinced the need to explain his behavior. In the first paragraph, Johnson asked Wheelock to forgive his presumption in writing, but deemed it necessary to present his “Case” so that Wheelock might hear about his actions firsthand, as it were. Johnson’s writing depicts a young man unsure of his position within his world. He had behaved, according to Christian standards, in a most heinous manner. For a young Native American man, however, Johnson’s actions were quite normal.

Johnson now stood firmly between two worlds: the world of the white Christian and the world of the Indian: “. . . Which way to Betake myself—I know not, I am at a Stand.” This “stand” marked a significant point in Johnson’s religious conversion. That God had bestowed his Grace, Johnson had no doubt: “Good God seems to be lengthening out his mercy to me, tho I have so Openly Rebeled against Him, and has graciously guided my Doubtfull steps . . .” Johnson had experienced justification, but was not living the sanctified life. In doing so, he separated elements not separable according to Calvinists, who argued that justification and sanctification are complementary: out of justification came sanctification. Thus, Johnson chose, at various times, to live the unsanctified life, a choice that placed his determination over God’s determinism. As evidenced by the above letter, Johnson’s understanding of grace could be easily defined: it was necessary for salvation but could be refused.

However, the power that Eleazar Wheelock held over his students cannot be discounted or minimized, as this letter proves. Johnson had an almost overwhelming desire to return to Wheelock’s school, but his shame prevented him from doing so: “Hon^d Sir; to return to you whom I have so greatly grieved, I dare not; I am ashamed. . . . The thoughts of your School haunts my Mind dayly, and to turn my face that way I dare not.” The powerful presence of Wheelock was constantly felt. Johnson’s words illustrate the depth of his pain and despair as well as his confusion. He had been removed from his home, his family, and his way of life. He was expected to become civilized, but never to become white. Wheelock sent Johnson, along with the other Indian students, as missionaries and teachers to other tribes without regard for the diversity of their languages and customs. Nevertheless, as Laura Murray points out, the students of Moor’s Charity School were meant to consider themselves as better than those whom they were sent to teach.34 How could these young men and women reconcile their position between cultures? In so many ways they were not quite Indian and not quite white. It would appear that the tensions inherent in such a reconciliation led to Johnson’s fall from Wheelock’s grace.

Johnson’s desperate attempt to obtain forgiveness from Wheelock is apparent in his rhetoric. His powerful use of anaphora illuminates his mindset and reveals his expertise in the art of writing: “But how, it seems as if there was some probability, some glimpse of hope yet, Some ways of Being Recovered from this Unhappy State . . .” Rhetorical questions indicate Johnson’s futile desire to erase his behavior and obtain Wheelock’s forgiveness: “But how can I make my sorrow Credible—which none can Believe . . . ” “What would I give Even all that I have or all that my care or Industry would gain Could I Recall these fatal hours which I consumed in sensless Vanities . . . ” If Johnson had learned anything from his tenure at Moor’s Charity School, he had learned the power of the written word. He had been compelled to bare his soul on the page. His progress—as a Christian, as a civilized human being, as a teacher, as a missionary—could only be determined through the written word.

The Letters of Joseph Johnson

The first extant letter written by Johnson after he left Wheelock’s school is from the Oneida country, where he was sent in 1766 as an assistant teacher to David Fowler and Samuel Kirkland. As mentioned previously, Fowler was another Indian student of Wheelock’s, described by Murray as “a teacher’s pct.”35 Samuel Kirkland was one of the Reverend’s white students, considered to be “a key agent of Wheelock’s hopes for converting the Iroquois.”36 Wheelock kept up a constant communication with Kirkland, on whom he relied for information about the behavior of the Indian missionaries, and his willingness to respond to Kirkland’s letters was a point of contention with the Indians. In a 1767 letter written to Wheelock, Fowler complained that “others have received Folio’s after Folio’s,” while “I have not received one Line.”37 The “others” to whom Fowler referred were, of course, Kirkland and, most likely, Ralph Wheelock.

Johnson’s letter opens with a reference to a letter no longer extant. He apologized for its contents, saying, “I have not Acknowledged the kind reception it meet with and the affectionate messages you have Sent me in your Letters to M^r Kirkland.”38 Although subtle, Johnson made it a point to mention that messages for him were relayed through Kirkland. In communicating with Johnson through Kirkland, Wheelock continued to reestablish the hierarchy of power between himself and Johnson, as well as the hierarchy between the white man and the Indian. In other words, Johnson did not merit a response from Wheelock himself. Johnson was aware of his position within this hierarchy; moreover, he was aware of the Indian’s position as it related to white society.

In the same letter, Johnson wrote, “That God may grant you an ample reward in the upper world, for all your Labours of Love towards the poor Indians, and me in perticular. . . .” Although his tone was one of deference and humble gratitude, Johnson’s view of himself and his people underlay this statement. He closed the letter, “your most Obedient though unworthy Servent Poor good for nothing Indian Joseph Johnson.” Johnson’s humility and obsequiousness served a dual purpose. On the one hand, he engaged in proper Christian rhetoric, since it was commonly expected that Christians would humble themselves before God and before their religious superiors. Laura Murray points out that many of Wheelock’s white students used similar rhetorical devices in their letters. However, she goes on to point out that Christian rhetoric “takes on particular valences” as it pertains to the subordinate status of Native Americans.39

Nevertheless, there is more to Johnson’s language than Christian rhetoric. Through it we witness a young man’s struggle to establish a place in a world that has attempted to negate his existence. Johnson realized that men such as Wheelock played a large part in determining the fate of Native Americans. At the same time, he was trying to come to terms with his own role in shaping that fate. Neither the Mohegans, nor the Oneidas, nor any other tribe could survive without acknowledging European domination. Yet, with this acknowledgment came the awareness that Wheelock (and the majority of Europeans) viewed Indians as inferior; that even as he attempted to educate and train his Indian students, Wheelock always thought of them as savages.40

Johnson’s confusion about his place in God’s plan and his position as a Christian Indian among the “pagan” Iroquois is evident in a letter he wrote to Wheelock in December of 1767:

As do Puritan writings, the above quotation incorporates an important element of the Christian writings of the time. Recording one’s despair and sinfulness offered a purgation of that sinfulness as well as relief from despair. Nevertheless, the language employed sounded not only a note of sorrow, but also of hopefulness, as Johnson’s writing illustrates: “. . . but I hope that before long Some will change their present Garments, & Look Encourageing to your poor Labourers in the Wilderness.” Johnson was aware that God would only hear the appeal for salvation from one who was actively seeking that salvation.41 Therefore, the “Wilderness” of which Johnson spoke was not only the physical space he occupied in Oneida country, but a spiritual space in which all Indians resided.

Johnson’s desperate search to create a solid, viable identity among a society that thought of his people as less than human is poignantly displayed in the second paragraph of the letter:

Johnson’s ambiguous position within this society is markedly evident in the above quotation. Murray points out his shifting pronouns, which reveal his confusion, but she fails to analyze the importance of these grammatical changes.43 To whom should Johnson have related? Did he belong with those “poor Ignorant heathen,” or did he belong with those who could see the damnation to which those “poor Ignorant heathen” were condemned?

The above paragraph begins with Johnson distancing himself from the Oneidas as he stated that “. . . God is about to give up these poor Ignorant heathen,” yet the next sentence brings the fear of damnation closer to himself as his pronouns shift to the first person and the possessive. “I hope that God is about to carry on his own work amongst us and bring out Some of our Souls from this darkness . . . ” However, in the next sentence, Johnson moved completely inward, focusing solely on himself and his fear that he would never receive God’s grace: “I am yet in the Gall of Bitterness. . . . I hope that God will yet Enable me to See the pride of my heart. . . . I believe that unless God be pleased to Open my Eyes that I may See the wickedness of my heart I greatly fear I Shall never Obtain the One thing needful.” This transition illustrates the complexity of Johnson’s constant struggle to create an identity that would allow him to function in both the Indian and the white worlds.

Furthermore, Johnson believed that although God had not yet opened his eyes, He still might. Then Johnson would “Obtain the One thing needfull”: salvation. That Johnson was still seeking salvation shows his belief in his own determination to achieve grace. In order to create a specific place in this new world order, Johnson would have to step outside of Wheelock’s Calvinist theology and refashion a theology that would allow him and other Indians to survive and prosper in Christian America. As he struggled to determine his fate, Johnson’s understanding of grace, regeneration, sanctification, and justification illustrated a subtle, but important, difference.

Conclusion

Joseph Johnson, along with other students of Moor’s Charity School, personified a constant struggle between Euroamerican Christianity and Native American identity. In order to unite these seemingly incompatible parts into a coherent whole, Johnson and his colleagues strove to fashion a Christianity that would allow them freedom to create an identity fundamentally different than that being created for them by Wheelock and others like him.

Calvinistic theology contended that human depravity and, therefore, divine salvation were not a matter of choice: God elected individuals prior to creation and those individuals, because of that election, lived a life of faith. Wheelock’s constant demand for confessions of misbehavior and backsliding reinforced the idea that God had not chosen any of Wheelock’s Indian students to receive salvation. To accept this interpretation of Christianity would lead to nothing but despair, a despair to which many, even Johnson himself, succumbed for a time.

Nevertheless, Johnson was able to overcome this despair through his own understanding of the Christian God and reinterpretation of the Christian faith. Johnson’s understanding of Christianity was much closer to Arminianism than to Calvinism. Arminian theology allowed humans to acknowledge their sinful state, repent and believe. God elected those whom He knew would accept salvation, but it was up to the individual to make that choice. Therefore, one could acknowledge divine grace, but still struggle to accept the gift. According to Calvinistic theology, Johnson’s failure to lead a Christian life ensured his damnation. Johnson believed differently. His spiritual struggles, although many, culminated in a life of faith as evidenced by his later writings and the founding of the Brotherton settlement. Those writings show a man secure in his faith and in his belief of God’s salvation and mercy.

Although he would die before Brotherton was completed, Johnson, along with Samson Occom, was a driving force behind the creation of the community. Within this community, Native Americans could live together, free from the constant concern that they might lose their land. Brotherton would embrace European agriculture and Christian religion combined with the Indians’ sense of community. Brotherton became for Johnson and the others the perfect amalgamation of European and Indian ways.

Notes