Race, Myth, and Capitol Sculpture: Pocahontas and Smith

Introduction: Capitol Sculpture and the Mythology of Westward Expansion

Antonio Capellano's sculpture The Preservation of Captain Smith by Pocahontas (1825) is still displayed in the Capitol Rotunda alongside other works of the same period, such as William Penn's Treaty with the Indians and The Landing of the Pilgrims, although these pieces no longer resonate with audiences in the same way they did in the 19th century. In the 20th and 21st centuries, more sophisticated and educated viewers would recognize that these works are all products of an era of Western expansion and a highly romanticized view of history heavily tinged with racism and white nationalism.

When these sculptures were first commissioned by the U.S. government, the early republic was engaged in westward expansion that would result in the destruction, displacement, and removal of most Native Americans — a process that most white Americans of the era regarded as necessary and beneficial. All of the official public art and sculpture of the time adhered strictly to a standard narrative of the progress of Christianity and white civilization, which would overawe and overpower the Indians. Native Americans would literally be forced to bow down to the superior power, drive, and intelligence of this white civilization — a dynamic that Pocahontas is depicted as recognizing when she saves Smith from being clubbed to death. She realizes that the only real choice for Native peoples is to adapt and assimilate to the white world or face eventual destruction. Moreover, she accepts that Smith is a heroic white man, physically, intellectually, and sexually superior to Indian males — although in the 19th century this was also highly problematic because of the implication of interracial sex, so-called "half-breed" offspring, and the miscegenation of races.

Manifest Destiny and Racist Iconography in Federal Art

Sculpture and paintings depicting American Indians in the 19th century followed certain predictable themes and patterns, particularly the idea of the destruction and disappearance of a supposedly inferior race before the westward march of white civilization. Two sculptures that once decorated the Capitol — Horatio Greenough's The Rescue and Luigi Persico's Discovery of America, both commissioned by the government in 1836 — were so explicitly racist that Congress finally removed them in 1958 after years of protests by Native Americans. The Rescue was ultimately destroyed in a moving accident in 1976 and never repaired, though few in contemporary times have mourned its loss. In the 19th century, however, these sculptures "embodied attitudes shared by most white Americans toward the Indians," particularly regarding their inevitable destruction by white civilization (Fryd 93).

At the time, the main controversy in Congress concerned whether an Italian immigrant like Persico should be receiving federal patronage at all, which is why Greenough's sculpture was also commissioned. Persico portrayed Columbus stepping boldly ashore to claim the Americas for Europe, with a mostly nude female "savage" kneeling before him and gazing at his face in awe, terror, and wonder. Columbus was "the superior of the Indian princess in every respect," just as Smith was over Pocahontas, and he possessed a vision of empire that spanned continents (Fryd 99). This was the era of Manifest Destiny, marked by the annexation of Texas and Oregon and the conquest of the northern half of Mexico. The place of Native Americans in this vast scheme had already been decided by the Indian Removal Act of 1830 — passed by the same Congress that, not long afterward, commissioned these very sculptures.

Greenough's The Rescue and the Captivity Narrative Tradition

Greenough modeled The Rescue after the Laocoön, except that in his work a gigantic and powerful white pioneer had captured a lithe young Indian who had been threatening physical and sexual violence against the pioneer's wife and daughter. This youth was also "surprised and awestruck by the pioneer's strength and restraining power," as Greenough intended (Fryd 106). In a letter to Secretary of State John Forsythe in 1837, Greenough explained that his sculpture conveyed the same message and symbolism as William Penn's Treaty with the Indians and Preservation of Captain Smith by Pocahontas, in that he had "endeavored to convey the idea of the triumph of the whites over the savage tribes" (Fryd 107).

John Smith's captivity narrative was the first in North America, and somewhat unusual in featuring an adult male rather than women and children. Several thousand more captivity narratives followed over the next 200 years, including those of Mary Rowlandson and Peter Williamson. By the 19th century, these narratives had become standardized and sensationalized, with a particular emphasis on rape, mayhem, and senseless cruelty designed to attract a mass audience. James Fenimore Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans (1826) actually combined two captivity narratives with the "vanishing Indian" theme, represented by the deaths of Uncas and the partially black character Cora at the end of the novel. Greenough's sculpture therefore represented the defense of virtue, civilization, progress, and white womanhood against the allegedly savage and mindless violence of the Indians. In reality, of course, Native peoples were the ones defending themselves from constant attacks and encroachments on their land, culture, and way of life — a fact that even the most prejudiced white observers at the time must have grasped, though most rationalized the destruction of native peoples as part of the price of progress.