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32X

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.^^ i

TOUR

THE AMERICAN LAKES

A S I> AMONC.

THE INDIANS

OF THE

NORTH-WEST T E R R I T O R Y,

IN 1830:

^l^.i

' 1"

. ..-^1

DISCLOSING THL CHARACTER AND PROSPECTS OF TifL:

INDIAN' RACE.

BY C. COLTON.

I N T W O V O L U M E S.

Vol. l

LONDON:
FREDERICK WESTLEY AND A. H. DAVIS,

MDCCCXXXIir,

'.^

■1;

LONDON

R. CLAY, PKINTER, UKFAD-STRr.F.T- III.'. L

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

' k ,f

ADVERTISEMENT . . ^"*''^^

, ix

iNTRODt'CTION

CHAP. I.

'I'lie Falls of Niagara

CHAP. II.

Niagara Whirlpool . .

'■ 12

CHAP. III.

"" AScf' ^'""'^^'^" ''''''' ^-«^ ^-J^- of North

CHAP. IV.

L'S

CHAP. V.
a 2

ti''-i

CONTENT:^ or VOL. I.

CHAT. VI.

P..

Ilii^tory of Detroit: — t'arly trading posts; I'oiitiac >
conspiracy ; Detroit saved ; I'ontiac's death ; de-
scription and beauties of the Territory of Michi::nii .

CHAR VII.
Ileniarkable instance of capital crime

CHAP. VI II.

I^niharkation from Detroit; C'a})tain Symmes's thcor;
of the earth ; sail over Lake St. Clair ; interest ot
the scene ; delta of the River St. Clair ; relics of
Frencli population ; a picture of French and Indians

CHAP. IX.

River St. Clair; visit to Fort Gratiot; memoranda of
Luke Huron : — wild and jjicturesque scenery of its
northern regions ; meeting with a canoe, manned by
eight Indians with the paddle ; their dexterity and
the celerity of their movement; an Indian encamp-
ment; their lodges; ihe Indian paddle quicker than
steam; the Indian's love of money and whiskey;
an Indian salute; and several interesting incident!"
of the passage among the islands of the north
margin of Huron Vui

CHAP. X.

Arrival at the Satit de St. Marie ; origin of this name ;
the Fills ; an interesting young lady, whose mother
was an Indian and her father a Scotchman ; pecu-
liar and moral power of Indian languages .... SO

CHAP. XI.

Voyage from the Saut de St. Marie to CJreen Bay ;
the thirty-two thousand is). aids ; the scenery they

tONTCNTS OF VOL. I V

create ; description of Michilliniackinack ; the stigar-
lonf and archfd rock ; arrival at (Jrceii liay in the
North-West Territory SS

CHAR XII.

i'olitical rehitions of the American Indian tribes ; their
rights ostensibly, but not really respected ; tiie pre-
emption right and its operation ; the original claims
of Europeans a ])recedent ; late juridical decision
of the American Supreme Court; Cireat Uritain
and the United States both reHj)onsible in the treat-
ment and for the fate of the Indians U'.'t

( IIAI*. XIII.

\'indication of the American Indians from the cliari:e
of being Savages ; their domestic atlections kind and
amiable; their savage jjassions artificial, kindled by
the war-dance, and only for war ; the Indian in war
is frantic, and never the aggressor, without a sense
of injury; Indian character essentially modified by
contact with the Kuropean race l('f>

(HAP. XIV.

(jradual extinction of the Kastern tribes; the New
York tribes advised to remove to the North- West
Territory; concurrence of the (ieneral Government
in the plan ; parts of the Indians agree to it ; the
nature of the understanding; their piu'chase of land
and removal ; their expectations ; their disiippoint-
ment; supposed scheme for breaking up this new
arrangement, and the result of it ; the reastms for
this narrative; extracts from the Rev, Dr. Morse's
Report to Congress, evincing the views then enter-
tained in regard to tins removal of the New York
Indians 122

CHAP. XV.

The design of the Commission of 18.30 to (jreen Piy ;
ignorance of Govermnoui: of the state of tlie case;

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

Page
liisfory of the title in dispute and the measures
employed to invahdate it IJJ

CHAP. XVI.

Hurning and massacre of Deerfield in Massachusetts;
the infant daughter of the Kev. Mr. Williams
snatched from tlie cradle, and carried into captivity;
is retained, and marries an Indian Chief; her de-
scendants ; the Rev. Eleazer Williams, formerly of
the St. Regis, now of the Oneida trihe, one of
tlicm ; was brought to New Kn<>land in childhood,
and there educated ; Mr. Williams and the Author
school-fellows; Mr. Williams engaged in the Ame-
rican army during the late war; afterwards ordained
to the Christian ministry by Bishop llohart, and
established among the Oneidas, near Utica . .

l.-il

CHAP. XVII.

The Rev. Mr. Williams takes the lead in the removal
of the New York Indians to Green IJay ; after a
long separation, the Author meets him there in
IS.'JO; the importance of his public duties in that
infant settlement of his people ; ascent of Fox
River ; deceitfulness of the Indian canoe ; incidents ;
arrival at Mr. Williams's house ; Mr. Williamss de-
velopemcnt of his plans ; his disappointment

16;

CHAP. XVIII.

An account of the Stockbridge tribe, and their settle-
ment on Fox River ; the Rev. .lohn Sergeant, the first
Christian Missionary to the tribe, from England ; the
Oxford Bible (1717) presented by the Rev. Dr.
Francis Ayscouth, in 1745; the improvement of
these Indians in civilization and the Christian reli-
gion ; a Sabbath among them ; their exemplary
religious order ; their attachment to their religious
teachers ; Sunday school ; their church music and
psalmody ; the parish beadle ; their dress and man-
ners ; an impromptu-Indian speech : Indian polite-
ness; reflections IHo

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

CIIAl'. XIX.

Vnei

The Oneida sottleniont at Duck Creek, uiuler the care
of the Rev. Mr. Williams; its Hourishini,' condition ;
discouraging prospects of these tribes, and the dis-
turbance of their relations with the ancient and
wihler tribes of the territory '20,1

CIIAI'. XX.

riic manner in which the Commission from Govern-
ment summoned the Council ; instructions imposed
on the Connnission, and dilHculties created by them ;
assemblini? of the Indians, and the setting up of
their encampments; modes of dress; a city of
Indian lodges; demoralizing influence of these
public coiuicils ; drunkenness ; the ruin of a young
Indian female 212

CHAP. XXI.

Organization and opening of the Council ; the Council-
house; singular formalities ; smoking of the pipe ;
grotesque appearance of the assemblage; the New
York Indians compared with the wild tribes ;• the
difierent tribes represented in Council ; modes of
intcq)retation ; the chastened oratoi'y of the New
York Indians ; John Metoxen (a Stockbridgo
chief) ; his last Speech in Council ; Indian shrewd-
ness ; oratory of the wild Indians, itself wild, but
often powei ful ; piety of the Indians 22(>

'.■1 1

M
it

• 4

CHAP. XXII.

Charge of Indian aftairs in the War Department ; the
course pursued by the New York Indians at the
Council, in the vindication of their rights ; the
object of the Commission defeated 215

• .As tlie Author has frequently been obliged to employ the
distinctive phrase of uild liiditius in tliis work, and li.is inad-
vertently omitted to ex])lain it — he would take this opportunity
to say, that it indicates those Indians, wljo have not been culti-
vated and modified by the iuHucnce of civilization.

yi'

Vlll

(ONTENTS OF VOL. I.

CHAP. XXIII.

Specimens of Indian speeches .

Pape

2')2

CH.VR XXIV.

rreeniasonry among the Indians; Medicin -dance;
the faith of the Indians in its miracnlous otHcacy ;
tlie manner of it; it often kills the patient ; the war-
<lance ; account of one witnessed hy tlie Autlior ;
the i)reparations ; the instruments of music for the
occasion ; the horrible manner in which they dress
and paint themselves; the exciting influence of the
exercises ; description of them ; the motives acting
upon the mind, and working the passions into
frenzy ; the war-whoop ; its shrill voice, and pierc-
ing, startling efiect ; an imexpected and alarming
incident; — a second war-dance among the Osages.
west of the Mississippi 271

CHAP. XXV.

Specimens of Indian speeches of former times, witli
anecdotes: — the vision of an Indian chief, narrated
})y himself ; speech of an Indian captain to his
warriors ; murder of the family of Logan, and his
speech to Lord Dunmore ; the Indian chief's an-
.swer to General Knox's inquiry — " What is the
matter, brother ? You look sorry ;" speech of Corn-
planfer to General Wasldngton ; of a Pawnee chief
to President Monroe ; anecdote of a Pawnee Brave . 301

Al)\KirriSE.MEXT.

Pn'Jurcs (tiid Introductions ate coi/nifo/////
i'.sfei',/f('(/ the last words of the Author, put iu the
first placi', (IS his rii/ht rttthcr than thv rcudrr's
priri/''(/(\ to rc.r tnid iuipcdc the luviuiutiou to
ip't (it thr ludiu (/rsif/N ,• and for this rrasou arc

rcr/j ojtcu passed orcr. Jhit the Author fwf/s
leace to s(ii/~th(it in this instfiurc, the Introduc-
tion is the Ki'V.

// //•/// tw found, that the wnwur part (f the
Title indicates the jiiajor of the sultject in respect

ti> importance, thoucfh ind perhaps in matter for

aninsenient.

Ill

a ,i

'-i

INTRODUCTION.

Why should this book be written ? To give
information. But was it proper to come through
such hands, and to be communicated in sucli
circumstances ?

As to the first of these questions, the Author
happened to have in his possession a portfolio
of incidents and observations, recorded by his
own hand, during a tour through the wild and
romantic regions of the American Lakes, and a
visit among several tribes of Indians in the
North- West Territory, in 1830. It happened
also, that this visit in the North-West gave him
aa opportunity of being present at a great and
eventful Council, composed of representatives of
the chiefs of several Indian nations and a Com-
mission from the Government of the United
States, the developements of which were some-
what extraordinary and extremely interesting.

i:?-.i

'•'^S

INTRODUCTION.

Li!
'I

: h

The second act of this Council and its concluding
scenes, viewed dramatically, were opened at the
city of Washington, in the following winter ; of
which also the Author was a spectator, and in
which were exhibited the entire scope of Indian
affairs in America, displaying very conspicuously
and impressively their more recent enactments.
The interest of these events chained the Author's
attention, excited his sympathies for the ancient
race of American Aborigines, and induced him
to avail himself of all possible means of becoming
acquainted with the history of their wrongs. His
oj)pcrtunities were abundant. He had never
meditated, however, any public use of the ob-
servations he had made and of the information
he had been able to collect, until a year after
his arrival in England ; whon it was suggested
to him, in conversation with some friends, that
the materials in his possession were in many
respects novel and interesting ; and some motives
were presented for embodying them in a form to
be submitted to the public eye.

But the difficult questio-i was: — What the
form should be? The maxim of Byron : " Truth
is strange, stranger than fiction' — was perhaps
never more applicable, than to the principal sub-
ject of these pages. The history of the American
Indians is the Romance of Fact. It needs not

INTRODUCTION.

XIU

ingre-

a single dash of the pencil— not a singK
client of the sentimentaUty of poetry, to give it
life and power over the feelings. The naked
truth has in it more of poetry and a more ener-
getic challenge on the affections, than any pos-
sible embellishment, or Hctitious garniture, that
could be thrown around it — more than any crea-
tions of fancy, with which it could be charged.
Show that race, as they are and have been, and
none of human kind can fail to be interested in
them.

But there were many reasons, notwithstanding,
why, if the Author consented to make any public
use of the facts in his possession, he should em-
body them un kr a mixed garb of romance and
history. And he actually proceeded so far, as to
execute one volume under this plan. But after
submitting it to other minds, a grave discussion
arose, and it was earnestly insisted : — that it
should be properly fiction^ or sober hlstorij; —
and it was agreed, that the facts were abundantly
sufficient to demand the last, and that no fictitious
dress could equal the interest of the exact truth.
Having resolved upon the historical course
exclusively, the delicate situation of the Author^
as an American, came next to be considered. It
was impossible for him to do justice to this sub-
ject, as it stood before his mind and rested upon

Ill

XIV

INTRODUCTION.

his own feelings, without entering somewhat
largely into the discussion of the recent policy
of his own Government towards the Indians. To
suppress the detail, would dilute the whole into
insipidity ; to give it, would necessarily involve
more or less of disclosure.

The principal considerations, which settled the
Author's purpose, in regard to the course he has
pursued, are here submitted : —

1. The fate of the American Indians, whether
they shall exist or be annihilated, has come to a
crisis.

2. Their rights are properly the cause of hu-
manity, and though well defined in the conscience
of the world, are yet undefined and unsettled in
the fact and operation of their social and poli-
tical relations ; and these rights can only be fixed
by a thorough public discussion before the world,
which will claim to be arbiter in the case, and
which alone, as a community of nations, is likely
to be a fair court of appeal. The question of
their rights is so prominent and interesting, that
the world will sit in judgment upon it ; and the
sooner their opinion is formed and expressed,
the better. That judgment can hardly be wrong ;
and it must also be respected and influential, if it
comes in season. Indeed, the very anticipation
of it, may possibly answer all the purpose.

1
ii

INTRODUCTION.

3. The challenge of the attention of the British
community to this subject is especially proper, as
they are involved in the same responsibility with
the United States, by having an ecjual number of
Indians, more or less, upon their hands, in their
North American colonies ; over whom iheir Co-
lonial Governments are compelled to legislate,
and whose existence and future amelioration de-
pend upon the treatment they shall receive from
those authorities. The Indians of the Canadas
have no formal guarantee of their distinct rights,
which they can assert against being removed at
the pleasure of the Colonial Governments ; and
whenever the white population crowds upon
them, they are subject to the same train of in-
juries, which have been suffered in the adjoining
States. The Author ventures upon this state-
ment rather on the presumption afforded by the
actual course of events, than by his knowledge,
that formal stipulations, defining a different treat-
ment, are actually wanting. If such stipulations
exist, the course pursued is doubly aggravating,
and no better, so far as can be seen, than in the
United States, except that the actual progress of
events has not attained so complete a develope-
ment. The Author has endeavoured to show,
that the salvation of the Tndi. as, as a race, de-
pends jointly upon Great Britain and the United

1 1

XVI

INTRODUCTION.

States ; and inasmuch as the crisis of their des-
tiny has evidently arrived, it is deemed proper
and obhgatory, that their case, witli the liistory
and nature of their wrongs, should be laid with-
out disguise before the two communities — unless
their doom must be considered as unavoidably
forestalled, and themselves abandoned to annihi-
lation.

While the sympathies of the British nation
are being roused — nay, are actually alive and
thoroughly challenged in behalf of the hlack
slave, it is perhaps the fittest moment to incor-
porate with the same feelings the congenial senti-
ments of compassion for the red man of America,
whose unfortunate destiny hitherto has actually
been controlled as much by British influence in
former ages, as that of the African slave. If
(ireat Britain is responsible for the redemption
of 800,000 degraded and enslaved blacks, she is
also responsible for a kind treatment and for the
social and political elevation of perhaps half that
number of a people, whose condition, though
nominally more independent, is scarcely less
unfortunate ; and whose misfortunes have been
induced by the encroachments and political mea-
sures of their white neighbours. If the slaves
of the British colonies have dwindled in num-
bers, and the increase of nature been stifled in

INTRODUCTION.

XVll

the womb, by direct and positive oppression,
the American Indians have also dwindled most
fearfully by influences, more indirect perhaps,
but scarcely less cruel and involving no less of
responsibility; and a responsibility, which attaches
alike and equally to the Government of Great
Britain, as to that of America. As the original
sin of African slavery in the west confessedly
fastens on the British crown, so the original
institution of Indian relations to civilized society
in North America was organized and fashioned
by the same authority. And as for this reason,
it was not unbefitting, that the British crown
should be first in the work of redeeming the
slave, the door is equally open for British virtue
to lend its sy'.npathies and display its energies
in behalf of the American Aborigines. It is
time at least ihat an e: pression of public senti-
ment should be given on this great question of
philanthropy. If it is true, that now is the time
to redeem the slave ; it is no less true, that
nou) is the time to save the American Indian.
And inasmuch, as t)ie British public have a duty
incumbent upon them in this matter, in common
with the Americans, it has been thought pertinent
by the Author to lay this subject before them ;
although from the necessity of his task, his
strictures on the unjust treatment of the Indians

f' m

fc-

XVlll

INTRODUCTION.

I 1

have been principally confined to the Govern-
ment of his own country.

4. Inasmuch as the recent measures of the
American Government, in relation to the Indians,
are before the world, and must necessarily make
their impression, the Author has considered that
a substantial history of the case in its principal
details, and an exposure of the great moral
causes, which have induced this state of things,
would rather be a relief, than a cloud over the
reputation of his country in this particular.
Nothing could possibly be more unfavourable,
than the impression of the grand fact unex-
plained; and that could never be repressed, or
in any way concealed. The reader, who shall
be sufficiently interested to go over these pages,
will find here and there the historical and moral
rationale of this great question and its results ;
by which it will appear, that the denouement
stands related to influences, most of them re-
mote and controlling, which do not at all affect
the character of the institutions of the country,
and which no more determine the disposition of
the people.

A sentiment is indeed expressed in a docu-
ment of the Appendix from the Governor of
Georgia, that the recent election of the officers
of the General Government has not only approved

INTRODUCTION.

XIX

the policy of removing the Indians, but sanc-
tioned the course of Georgia towards the Che-
rokees. That justification, however, is to be
regarded merely as convenient in the circum-
stances, and not as containing valid reasons. It
might be and no doubt is true, that in the recent
election, the dominant party of the Union were
blinded by their leaders on the Indian Question ,-
but it is not true, that the sober voice of the
nation, enlightened by the facts and merits of
the case, has ever been expressed. There has
neither been opportunity for them to be informed,
nor time for them to act, upon it. The result of
the election was owing entirely to other and
great questions. If the Indian question were
the only one to influence the public mind in a
general election, and the people could have
opportunity to be fairly and fully enlightened,
the Author does not believe that one voice in
ten thousand would sustain the more violent
measures, which have recently been pursued,
and which he in conscience has been obliged to
disapprove.

The Author has considered it suitable and
due to the cause of truth, that the world should
understand, that the American people, as a
body, would never sanction this course of treat-
ment of the Indians, which is here assumed as

,'4 1

< I

I I

■\\

■'* ' 'I I

INTRODUCTION.

! 1

injurious ; tliat, being taken by surprise, it was
impossible for a whole people, embarrassed by
other and all-absorbing cjuestions, to apply an
immediate remedy ; that so far as they have been
informed, they have already expressed their
strongest sympathy ; that nothing could remon-
strate more loudly, or speak more eloquently,
than the demonstrations of public feeling, already
made ; that the people have been compelled to
wait for a decision of the Supreme Judiciary of
the nation, and for the operation of that decision;
and that the general election was controlled by
other questions, before the people could possibly
be enlightened on this. And now that that
decision has been obtained, it is producing
its proper influence, as the standard of public
opinion.

While the Author has wished and tried to
declare himself prudently, he has deemed it
proper to do it decidedly. The injuries done to
the Indians he has considered of a nature not
to be parleyed with, and for which no apology
can be made. He has considered, that a frank
exposure and a full confession of the wrong
would be more honourable to his country, than
any attempts at concealment; that the wound
inflicted on the nation's reputation cannot be
aggravated by such a course ; that the proofs of

IMRODICTION.

XXJ

the susceptibilities of the pc()j)le to synipatliize
in tliese wrongs and to repair them, so far a^
possible, are shewn partly in their readiness t«>
confess them ; that the public opinion of the
world, seasonably expressed, or anticipated, must
necessarily be no unimportant ingredient in the
measure of redeeming iuHuences ; and that the
best friends of the nation and of c.e Indians
ought not to be identified with the few, who
have happened, in the course of events, to obtain
a controlling influence, though it is believed
transiently, over the whole atfair. The decision
of the Supreme Court may fairly be taken, as an
expression of the will of the people, when it can
be legitimately developed. For these and such
reasons the Author has considered it proper to
exhibit enough of detail to lay open the general
subject historically, and to express his own
opinion without reserve.

! M

•ank
•ong
than
•und
be
of

The Author thinks it due to himself to observe,
that he has never been connected, nor in any
way personally interested, in either of the great
political parties of his country; nor is he con-
scious of being influenced by party feeling in
the production of this work. He sympathizes
generally with the principles, on which his own
Government is administered, and cherishes a

XXll

INTRODUCTION.

;. 1 ■

respect for the men at its head. But on the
Indian question he is conscientiously and toto
coclo at variance with their views. And it is
because he loves the institutions of his country
and wishes to see the national constitution and
public treaties preserved inviolate ; and because,
from personal observation and knowledge, he
has been obliged to feel a deep sympathy for
the Indians, in view of what he esteems en-
croachment on their rights — that he has under-
taken the task embodied in these pages, and
endeavoured to separate between Indian wrongs
and the legitimate operation of the Government.
And so long as he finds himself in company
with the Supreme Court of the nation, he will at
..east feel himself well sustained.

It is not improbable, that the reader may feel,
that too much of the second volume is occupied
in discussion, and in the refutation of certain
doctrines and statements there encountered from
the North American Review. The Author, wish-
ing to avoid personality as much as possible, has
omitted to bring out the authority of that article.
It may be proper, however, here to mention, that
it originated from a high source in the Govern-
ment— a source now at the head of Indian
affairs — and may fairly be taken as the creed of

INTRODUCTION.

XXIII

and

principles, by wliich those aflairs are at present
governed. This fact may perhaps be a sufficient
apology for giving the argument so extended a
consideration. And while the Author has felt
obliged to treat some of the doctrines there ad-
vanced with severity, lie most cheerfully expresses
his high consideration for the personal character
of his adversary, and for his public official career,
in all that does not respect the use and applica-
tion of the principles here contested. In that
matter the Author must stand at variance, from
a full conviction, not only of the Indian's suscep-
tibility of being raised, in intellectual, moral, and
civil improvements, to command an equal respect
with any other race of men— but also from a no
less decided conviction of the Indian's unqualified
and just demand to be admitted to an equality of
social and political rights ; — and more especially,
that the Indian should realize the full benefit of
all the public engagements, that have been made
in his favour and for the attainment of these
objects.

As one of the moral causes, which have
operated in the United States to the detriment
of Indian rights, the Author has felt obliged,
from his own convictions, to specify the para-
mount influence of slavery. It is well known,

XXIV

INTRODUCTION

that ancient impulses of a vicious tendency, iii
the constitution of human society, will often
continue to operate disastrously, even after they
have been checked by the incipient stages of
reformation. Such is emphatically the case with
slavery. It is undoubtedly true, that the Ameri-
can Colonization Society has begun to shed a
most benign influenca on the slavery of that
country. It has forced into public and universal
discussion a question, which the National Legis-
lature, by the constitution of the Government,
could never touch — inasmuch as every several
State is left by that instrument, as sovereign and
independent, in regard to all State prerogatives,
not surrendered in the Federal compact, as any
foreion nations are in relation to each other.
But the Colonization Society has commenced a
career of extended and rap'dly increasing in-
fluence, which has already affected essentially
and radically the moral elements of society in
the Southern and Slave States, in relation to
slavery. And notwithstanding, that the influence
of ancient impulses of this vicious character has
doubtless operated lo the violation of Indian
rights — it is no less true, that a slavery reforma-
tion has ah'eady commenced and extensively in-
fused its leaven throughout the niass of the
Slave States, by the instrumentality of the above-

INTRODUCTION.

XXV

', in

named instifntion. While, therefore, the one
agency is St^ied, as the result of remote in-
fluences, for the time being uncontrolled in this,
as wel) as in other directions, it is not to be
considered as impossible with the contemporane-
ous existence and increasing influence of the
other. The former may have and doubtless has
produced the eflfect ascribed to it, while the latter
is gaining an ascendency, which at a later period
would entirely have prevented this ^^eplorable
issue.

> 4

ni-
ially
in
to
nee
has
ian
ma-
in-

The Author has been aware, that these
volumes will aflTord some additional elements
for those strictures and censures on the Ameri-
can Republic, which have been so liberally and
customarily rendered by a portion of the British
press. And while much has often been made
of little and much out of nothing, these, it must
be confessed, are not altogether unsubstantial
materials for the gratification of such feelings
While the Author has undertaken in another
place, as may possibly be known to some extent,
to rebuke a disposition to find fault where there
was no reason for it, he will perhaps have proved
in this instance, that he would not cover a real
sin even in his own house, when the rights of
communities and the cause of humanity demand

VOL. I. h

XXVI

INTRODUCTION.

% I

I .

i'l

a developement. Those whom these disclosures
may gratify, are freely offered all which they
afford ; while the discriminating and the fair
will doubtless view and present the case, as it is,
it they shall be disposed to notice \t at all : —
they will not tax the institutions of the country,
nor the disposition of the people, as a body, with
the iniquity — while it may still be fairly main-
tained, that the nation is responsible and bound
before the world and heaven to make atonement.

It does not well become one nation to be
accusing another of oppressions and violence,
merely for the i.ke of elevating itself by com-
parison, when both, in the present imperfect
state and imperfect operation of their institutions,
have their faults of this description. Better,
th.at the common cause of freedom and humanity
should be made a common interest among the
advocates of right throughout the world, that
any case of the violation of right might be widely
and freely exposed, and universally reprobated.
Certainly, in the matter constituting a prominent
subject of these pages. Great Britain and America
are too deeply involved to furnish a warrant for
crimination on either side.

The community of nations is rapidly assuming
a character like a community of individuals; and
for the same reasons, that the latter have a

P"!;

INTRODUCTION.

XXV 11

common right in determining the social relations
and defining the modes of intercourse, the former
should openly and freely discuss and socially
determine their relations. As every mep^ber ot
a community of individuals may rightfully have a
voice in all the regulations enacted for the com-
mon good — so every member of the com.uunity
of nations is interested in the code of interna-
tional lavVj and may fliirly claim its right in the
discussion and settlement of fundamental prin-
ciples ; — and since, when any member of the
minor community is injured, it is a proper subject
of public alarm and investigation, so when the
rights of any nation, or tribe, are violated, it
makes a legitimate ground for a common adjudi-
cation, at least for the interchange and expression
of opinion, and the employment of influence.
We have high authority for the saying : " When
one member suffers, all the members suffer with
it ;" they ought certainly to sympathize.

I •;

nng
land
re a

It will be observed, that the scene of the
first volume is laid on the American Lakes and
in the North- West Territory. The latter is a
civil division of the American jurisdiction, lying
on the upper waters of the Mississippi river and
the shores of Lakes Superior and Michigan, and
not on the Pacific Ocean, as is sometimes, and

' * *

lii

XXVlll

INTRODUCTION.

in foreign parts perhaps more commonly, under-
stood by this name.

The Author feels obliged to say, that, not
having anticipated the execution of this task,
before he came to England, he has found himself
wanting in many important documents, which
would have been a material improvement of the
Work, and rendered it far more complete. The
Indian speeches delivered at the council of
Green Bay, once in his possession and taken
down by his own hand, were left behind. To
supply this defect, he has taken the liberty of
constructing a few specimens, as nearly after
the manner of the Indians, as his impressions
and recollections would enable him to do.
And while it is due to historical verity to
make this acknowledgment, the Author may
perhaps be permitted to say, without a breach
of modesty, that having once made a copy
of all those transactions at the time and as they
occurred, together with the speeches that were
delivered by the Indians, and having been long
in habits of intimate intercourse with them, in
public and private, he ought to be qualified to
do them something like justice in such ". trifling
attempt. He may also add, that having on
various occasions complied with the requests of
the Indians to assist them in their communica-

INTRODUCTION.

XXIX

tions with the official agents of Government, he
necessarily became acquainted with their peculia-
rities of thought, and feeling, and modes of
speech. One of their chiefs paid the Author the
following coirpliment to the point in question,
at the city of Washington, on the occasion of
soliciting him to draw up an address to the
Senate of the United States in their behalf:
" You talk our talk better than we can talk it
for ourselves." This, however, merely to shew,
that the author has had some custom in speaking
for them. The examples given in the chapter
above alluded to, are offered, as things like what
they stand for ; and the Author is confident, that
the likeness would be acknowledged even by the
Indians themselves. At the same time, that they
support the Indian argument, (the one ascribed
to the Winnebago-Chief only excepted, which is a
pure invention to exemplify the wild incoherency,
which sometimes characterizes savage oratory,)
they are also intended as specimens of that
simplicity of thought and reasoning, which the
Indians are accustomed to demonstrate. The
civilized Indians of the New York tribes at
Green Bay reason quite as well, as the Author
has represented.

The other specimens of Indian speeches,
the Author is not responsible for. They are

1'!

!i!i;

■'!'■
Ilii

XXX

INTRODUCTION.

extracts from authorities, to which they are
ascribed.

As the Rev. Mr. WilHams, of the Oneida tribe,
occupies a conspicuous place in this work, the
Author begs leave to say, that soiT.e very trivia)
errors may possibly occur in the notices taken of
him, — but not material. The conversations and
remarks ascribed to Mr. Williams, and in one
place an extended part of a colloquy witli the
Author, in which he appears as the principal
speaker, are a compressed and comprehensive
statement of the substance of numerous commu-
nications, reduced principally from recollection.
The Author would not, therefore, make Mr.
Williams responsible for every expression, that
may be found in these conversations, as coming
from him. All the Author can pretend is, that
he has endeavoured faithfully to transcribe the
copy afforded by his memory, in the selections
made. The exact original forms of communica-
tion could not of course be expected.

It is possible also, that some other of the
historical and narrative portions of the first
volume may not have made exactly the same
impressions on the minds of other witnesses, as
are recorded by the Author. He does not
think, however, that these differences could be
numerous, or in any degree important.

INTRODUCTION.

XXXI

.►•i'

are

the

tlie
first
same
|s, as

not
II be

It will doubtless seem remarkable, that Indian
wrongs in America could have proceeded so far
without more public remonstrance and without
the application of a remedy. But it may easily
be seen, that a civilized and powerful govern-
ment, having come in contact and formed perma-
nent relations with barbarous, or semi-barbarous,
and consequently inferior, and in some respects,
dependent tribes, may have practised, or suffered
to be practised, long continued and petty oppres-
sions, necessarily vexatious and destructive to
the subjects, before they have come to the notice
of the world, so as to shock essentially the moral
sense of mankind. Where have such relations
existed without these results ? Suppose the book
of history, detailing things of this kind, that have
occurred in the East Indies for ages past, were
open to the world ? The little that has transpired
may be enough to suggest what remains untold.
It is only when acts of injustice, or of cruelty,
more atrocious, occur, that the attention and
sympathies of mankind are roused.

Besides, injustice is more apparent when the
temper of the age is mild, and the state of the
world comparatively quiet. The better part of
mankind can see it more distinctly, and a better
opportunity is given to expose it. Injustice,
when estimated by the proper rule, is always the

XXXll

INTRODUCTION.

same. But it is not always the same thing in
men's minds. That which would have been a
trifle in one age, or in one part of the world,
may be an enormity in another.

It was not till recently, within four to six
years — more especially within four — that the
more flagrant acts of injustice toward the Ame-
rican Indians, have challenged public attention.
And, as has been before remarked, it has not
been possible, 'vvithin this period and in existing
circumstances, to bring in a remedy. The cur-
rent of mischief was too wide and deep and
strong to be arrested, or turned in a day.

London, Jiofo, 1833.

A TOUR, &c.

CHAPTER I.

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

Who has not heard of Niagara Falls ? And
he who has been there, if he possesses ought of
a relish for the grand and awful, if he can admire
the way and love the voice of God, will never lose
the impressions of the scene. The mountain has
its majestic forms. But its eloquence, though im-
pressive, is silent, except when the storm begins
to move upon its head, and roar along its sides,
and brush its everlasting crags, and bellow over
the mouths of its caverns ; or when the ava-
lanche comes thunderir^f from its brow to wor-
ship at its feet ; and he who happens to be there

VOL. I. B

! I

TFE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

.i,»

perchance shall never come away. The wilder-
ness has its romantic and unexplored solitudes,
and the desert its interminable wastes, or its
burniiif,^ sirocco ; but there is no comfort to
exempt the mind from external annoyances.
The ocean, tempest-tossed, prepares in the deep
a watery shroud for the body by the same hand,
with which it proffers a festival of sublimity to
the soul. With him who has gone safely
through, the very contingencies of his passage
may indeed augment the power and add intensity
to the character of his emotions, while hanging
in retrospect over the recollectic ns of his peril.
Still there was peril — and with peril there is
pain.

But not so in the peaceful retreat of Niagara's
eternal cataract. There the mind may rest from
anxiety. The spectator may sit, and see, and
hear, and never grow weary of the scene. He
may change his position. He may walk along
the banks of the majestic current, from the
entrance of Chippewa's dark waters, following its
course, and witnessing how the flood begins to
make haste. He may see the glassy surface
beginning to be disturbed by the increased rapi-
dity ; and now the vast volume leaping a shelf,
and showing the form of an ocean wave ; and
now leaping another shelf, and another, and yet

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

another, until tlie mighty torrent, descending a
steep decHvity, bounds over its broken and craggy
bed, itself as yet unbroken, so deep and measure-
less the flood. Then he marks the earnestness,
the very passion of its career, as if it were
glad to burst at once from its confinements above,
and eager to plunge into the abyss below. He
who has seen the troubled ocean after a storm,
has only to imagine those heaving billows de-
scending a mountain side, himself looking up
from below on their downward course, and it
is the very picture presented from the table rock
of Niagara, as the spectator, turning his back on
the chasm, with the cataract immediately on his
left, faces the descending torrent, and lifts his
eye on the mountain declivity of ''aters, which
comes leaping, and rolling, and tumbling, as if
from the clouds, or the azure heavens which
peer above the tops of the waves. And this
only a preparation for the fall — a collection and
multiplication of forces for the stupendous
leap. Next the enrapt beholder turns his eye
upon the curvilinear margin of the awful shelf;
he bends to look downward from his giddy
elevation, and there an ocean of waters, which
he had just seen rushing with most alarming
impetuosity from above, now plunges into the
abyss, as if to drive asunder the base of the hills.

B 2

Tlir lAIJ.S OF NrAr;ARA.

( '

;. .;' i

The firm rock, on wliicli he stands, sliuddors —
himself slmdders, wliiie tlie roar, and tumult,
and tempest of the chasm send up their thunders
to his ear, and drive the currents of their watery
mist like the. whirlwind in their windinfjs and
fitful moods, and with all the force of the
tornado.

He may descend, if he will, (and he must
be alike wanting; in courafje and taste if he
declines) to the level which these waters have
formed by their daring leap. There, housed
beneath the impending and lofty crag, itself
jutting far out over the ])osom of the deep, as if
curious to witness more and all of the scene,
himself may look ttjj on that which just now,
bending from above, lie had looked down upon.
And now he has before him nought but the
mighty cataract, like an ocean, spilling itself in
one vast sheet from those regions of the heavens,
where the highest start ^ve seen at night, and
where the summer's sun walks in his strength at
mid-day. And let him not fear the whirling
eddies of the suspended waters, thrown out from
the thickest of the tumult, and dashing upon
him now their softer mists, and now their sheets
of a driving storm. He should brave all this,
and more, if he would see what every brave
man should see, He must take the hand of a

Tin: lALLL, or M.U.AUA.

competent «,'uicle, and make liis circuit over the
broken tra<fments of the rocks, t'ar round and
underneath tlie projecting and awful shelf, over
which the mighty tide takes its linal })lunge.
And when perchance an eddying hla^t shall
hurst upon him, he must hug the rock till its
transient fury is exhausted, and then push on,
still resorting to the same expedient on the
recurrence of a like exigency, until he has gone
as far as man may dare to go, and turns and sits
him down to face the inner face of this strange
vision. Then, indeed, he will find himself in
the midst of an awful tempest, menaced and
assaulted on all sides by whirlwind blasts, and
enlightened only with the light which the
wliitened foam reflects on that dark cavern ;
but still in safe condition, except the rare chance
of the fall of some fragment of the rocks above,
for ever oppressed and shaken as they are by
tlie superincumbent and rushing Hood. Of that,
however, he must not think ; in such predica-
ment it were unpleasant. The last fall of the
kind, a few years since, which brought ten
thousand tons, or more, in a single mass, hap-
pened in the night, — and so may the next ; and
the next may be centuries to come. Let him
rather make the best of his daring ; and not only
be able to say that he has been there, but feel

> >

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

i^:

!.i

that it was a rare and enviable privilege. Who
can well imagine the wild commotion and deaf-
ening uproar of the scene ? The loudest piping
of the ocean blast, and the fiercest march of its
mountain wave, are a mere lullaby song to the
thunder of this encounter.

The visitor will not fail to cross to the American
side, as it is called, — as though Canada were not
in America. And this vice is well enough under-
stood here, where it originated — or rather the
compliment done to the United States and her
citizens, by making them the representatives of
the entire continent, and alluding to them, as if
they were its sole lords and occupants. Are the
United States so important, as to be entitled to
this high distinction of standing for America^
and that Americans should every where be the
synonyme of citizens of that republic ? What
accident has given so small a portion of that
world such a prominence ?

The notices we have already taken of Niagara
Falls have been from the Canada side, which
are altogether most interesting, and the views
most sublime. For a relief of the almost pain-
ful emotions, by which the mind of the be-
holder has been exercised, — at one time excited in
admiration, now rapt in ecstacy, and now over-
whelmed by the mingled effect of grandeur and

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

tumult and fury, — let him throw himself into
a small boat on the bosom of Niagara, directly
under the Falls, where, conscious of safety,
though tossed like a feather in the fitful wind by
the boilings of that unfathomable linn, or basin,
where the waters, which a moment before sprung
in such mighty volume from the brow of yonder
precipice, now heave and roll and break in eddies
of fearful aspect, as if to give expression to their
pain and agony, or vent to the joy of their escape ;
— on such a sea of foam, where the last breath
of the conflict is evidently spent, and the agitated
element labouring to be composed, he may rest
and float secure, and look at the base, and look
midway, and lift his eye to the summit of that
unceasing, never-dying cataract. He may esti-
mate its superficial dimensions, he may imagine
its depth, and wonder still at its roar and tumult.
From the same position he may turn his eye to
'he left of Goat Island, on the American side,
and witness a still more lofty cataract, but more
modest, not yet presuming to assert such pro-
found pretensions, descending in a silvery sheet,
as if from an artificial shelf, connecting the
island with the shore ; and dashing on the rocks
below, displays a vast bed of fleecy whiteness,
like a storm of the thii'kest and purest snow,
reflected by the sun.

»i

: I

> I

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

At the head of the rapids, about one mile from
the Falls in direct line, but from two to three
miles by the line of the Canada shore, the river
is divided by the island above named, turning,
perhaps, one-tenth of the current to the American
side. This smaller portion would be a great
river by itself — and the channel through which
it descends, and the final plunge of its waters,
are in many respects more romantic, though less
grand and awful, than the course and fall of the
principal torrent. The shelf of the cataract on
the American side is to the eye and in fact higher
than the point of the Horse S/ioe, as it is called,
where is the greatest depth and force of the
river, as it leaps from the precipice. This single
feature of superior elevation gives advantage to
the American side, and in this particular it stands
invested in a more majestic form. But the deep,
and comparatively unperturbed current descend-
from the Horse Shoe, suggests the vastness of
its volume, imparts to it the highest considera-
tion, and chains the mind with the intensest
interest.

By the noble enterprise of a wealthy indivi-
dual. Judge Porter, a bridge has been thrown
across from the American shore to Goat Island,
directly over the most impetuous current of the
rapids, and but a few rods above the fall — an

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

almost incredible achievement of human art, and
of human power over natural obstacles. To
facihtate the undertaking, there happened to be
the natural abutment of an islet midway the
channel, saving the necessity of more than two
or three additional ones, which were sunk and
secured at great expense and difficulty. By
this means, this heretofore inaccessil)le island,
covered with wood, a most beautiful and romantic
retreat, has been opened to free and easy access ;
and one of the most advantageous views of the
Falls is to be gained from its brow, hanging
between the two cataracts. The passage across
this bridge is somewhat frightful, from the rapi-
dity of the current, and the startling thought
of hanging suspended over a torrent, so fiercely
dashing onward, to leap the next moment from
such a giddy height. The mind at once begins
to calculate the chances of some accident to
the bridge. The bare possibility of the sudden
slide of a pier, over which you stand, from
the face of the rock, on w^hich it rests, and the
inevitable consequence, shocks the feelings with
the shuddering seubation of horror ; and the
hastened step of the passenger will sufficiently
indicate the involuntary impulse by which he
has been overtaken. No one, however, should
deny himself the gratification of visiting the

B ;3

« <
-i

■

!*■

•h' ■

THE FALLS OF NL\GARA.

island. It is like as if a bridge had been made
to the moon, once as unexpected, and deemed
ahke impossible.

The views and aspects of this great wonder of
nature are susceptible of almost infinite change
by thp change of position : and there it is, the
same great work of God for ever and for ever,
in constant life and motion. There is no curtain
to hide the exhibition — there is no machinery in
it, the wires of which are subject to human con-
trol. Its fountains are never dried, its torrents
are never, like other tloods, increased or dimi-
nished. There it is, the same for ever and for ever.
Notwithstanding a world of waters have fallen
this hour, a world of waters shall fall the next
hour. To-morrow shall be as this day, and
a century to come as a century past. The
lover of nature's magnificence and nature's beau-
ties may wander there without fear of satiety —
with ever growing and yet a keener appetite.
He may choose his bed on the brow of the
chasm, and near the fearful plunge, so that the
walls of his habitation, and the couch on which
he reposes, shall sympathise with the ceaseless
vibrations of the earth and rocks, and himself
literally be rocked to sleep by the hand and
music of the mighty waters. In his half-
waking moments he shall know, because he will

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

feel, that he is there. In the visions of his
deepest slumbers, still shaken by the concussions
of all nature around, he shall be admonished,
that he is there. Of that which he saw by
day he shall dream by night — and he shall see
it even then in forms of as much greater magnifi-
cence, and of as much more attractive beauties,
or diessed in a wildness as much more amazing,
as dreams are more remarkable, than the sober
thoughts of a wakeful hour. He may rise in
the morning, and visit the scene with ever fresh
delight ; and at noon, and when the sun declines,
and by the light of the moon, or under the stars
alone, or when the tempest scowls at midnight
hour, and mingles its thunders with the thunders
of the abyss in rival effort, and lays the broad
sheets of its fire on the foam of the waters : and
he will never say — it is enough.

4 1

,1
' i

■!1

CHAPTER IT.

THE WHIRLPOOL.

From Niagara Falls, long familiar with their
various features, as above described, the author
of these pages took it in his head to make a dis-
tant excursion, in the summer of 1830, into the
wild regions of the JNorth West, tenanted prin-
cipally by savages, as they are commonly called,
but more reverently by the aboriginal inhabi-
tants of North America. The method selected
of getting there was by the Lakes, and the point
of embarkation, Buffalo.

It is proper, perhaps, for the information of
the British reader, to describe, briefly, the map
and geographical relations of this region. There
are probably few who have looked upon the map
of North America, ihat have not had the curiosity
to ascertain the situation of Niagara Falls. And
they have found them upon that current, which
connects Lake Ontario with Lake Erie, called

THE WHIRLPOOL.

Niagara river, and in length about thirty miles —
it being one of the channels in connexion, l)y
which the waters of that vast and notorious
chain of inland seas, in North America, are
disembogued into the gulf of St. Lawrence, and
thence into the Atlantic. The Falls are distant
ten miles from the southern margin of Lake
Ontario, and twenty miles from the foot of Lake
Erie, and four miles south of Queenston and
Lewiston heights, the latter constituting the
elevation, or brow above Lake Ontario, down
which the waters of Lake Erie must plunge in
their way to the ocean. And the deep chasm
between the falls and the heights, occupied by
the river after its fall, fear miles in length,
before tlie agitated current finds a breathing
place in the open plains below, and prepares
itself to glide placidly into the lake, is supposed
by geologists to have been formed by the wear
and tear of this tremendous cataract, for a suc-
cession of ages not to be counted. For the
geologist, especially if he be a Frenchman, does
not deem himself oblijred to regard the world's
history, as suggested by the scriptural account
of the Deluge, and of the antediluvian periods.
Doubtless, if the wear of this chasm is to be
estimated by its progress since known to the
present civilized world, and according to this

.«

ft
'I

Tin: WHIRLPOOL.

theory, it will be quite necessary to resort to
some such authority as the Chinese historical
records, or to the theory of a philosopher's brain,
to solve this geological problem.*

It may not be uninteresting, however, before
we enter more extensively into our geographical
lesson, that a moment here should be occupied
in allusion to a A^'hirlpool, which is to be found
in this part of Niagara river, a little more than
half way from the Falls to Queenston, and which
of its kind is not less remarkable than the Falls
themselves. At this point, the river, in its com-
pressed, deep, and rapid career, makes a sudden
turn, or sharp angle, the effect of which has been
to wear out and form a basin of considerable
extent in a precipitous bank two hundred feet
high, in which the waters of the river, as they
come rushing from above, take a sweep before
they can escape by the angle, which interrupts
the channel, and find their passage in a down-
ward course : — by which it will be seen, that a
plural number of currents at this point must
necessarily cross each other between the surface

• It is interesting to remark, that M. Cuvier, before he
died, had consented to take the chair at the next anniversary
of the Paris Bible Society, and to exhibit the proofs of agree-
ment between geological observations and the Mosaic account
ot the Creation and Deluge

THE WHIRLPOOL.

and the bed of the river, in the formation of
this remarkable phenomenon. It uniformly hap-
pens, in the great variety of floating materials,
descending the river, such as logs and lumber of
various sorts, that portions of it are detained for
days, and sometimes for weeks, sweeping the
circuit of this basin, and every few moments
returning by the dv ' of the whirlpool, and as
they approach the . ortex, are drawn in with great
rapidity, and submerged to descend no one knows
how deep, until by-and-by, following the cur-
rents, they appear again on the surface of the
basin, to make the same circuit, and again to
be drawn into the same vortex. It has sometimes
happened, that the bodies of persons who have
had the misfortune to get into the rapids above
the Falls, and to be drawn down the awful cataract,
or who have been drowned between the two
points, after the usual process of decomposition has
lightened their specific gravity, and raised them
to the surface, have been seen for days floating
around this whirlpool, and making the customary
and successive plunges, to which every thing,
that comes within its reach, is doomed without
the possibility of rescue.

It also happened, during the last war between
the United States and Great Britain, (may there
never be another contest so unnatural) that a

r I

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'li

I'V/I

THE WHIKLrOOL.

I *

British soldier upon a raft of palisades, which
had been cut on the margin of this basin for the
fortifications at Queenston, v.as sent adrift into
this whirlpool by the parting? of ;i rope connected
with the shore, in the attempt to float the raft
out of the basin into the river below. The force
of the currents not being duly estimated, as the
raft approached the vortex, drawn by the hands
of other soldiers on shore, and claiming a passage
at what was deemed a prudent distance, the too
feeble cord snapped asunder to the amazement
and horror, not only of the unfortunate man
afloat, but equally of his comrades, who were
compelled, without any means or hope of ex-
tending relief, to witness the unhappy fate of the
devoted victim. In a moment the raft was seen
careering with increased rapidity towards the
visible and open centre of the whirling waters,
where its immediate and total wreck was justly
deemed inevitable; and down it went, and the
man upon it, with " convulsive splash," and now
nothing was seen. The spectators shrieked in
sympathy. A soldier has his fellow feeling. For
he is a man. Had their comrade fallen in battle,
they might have trampled on his carcass in the
onset of a charge, in disregard of his sufterings.
And when they should come to bury him, they
might say : " Thou hast died nobly." Bat that

i ■:■'.

i.:

THE WIIIRLrOOL.

he sliould be tims unexpectedly and fearfully
swallowed up by the flood, their nerves were ill
prepared for the shock. He was gone, and with
his disapi)earance disappeared all hope. But
what was their surprise, while, with vacant stare
and every feeling astcnnuled, their feet fixed
imnioveably to the earth, they gazed upon the
scene, the raft entire, and their comrade clinging
to it, suddenly shot up on the surface of the
water., and seemed to be floating back to their
embrace. " Well done ! bravo !" they cried,
rending the pent up region with their gratulations,
and clai)ping their hands anil leaping for joy.
Alas ! instead of making towards the shore,
or coming within reach of the throw of a line,
(for every one was now in stretch of all his
powers to afford relief, and the unfortunate man
crying for help,) the raft was borne irresistibly
along the current before described, and in a few
moments began again its rapid sweep towards
the vortex. Again the men on shore were
thrilled with horror in expectancy of the fate of
their companion — and he, smiting his breast in
despair, fell upon his knees, lifting his face to-
wards heaven, and seemed to be making his last
commendations of himself to the mercy of God,
and the next moment down again he plunged,
and was swallowed up in the deep. His

■'•1

THE WHIRLPOOL.

!lf

comrades stood still, and «,razed upon the vacant
waters, awaiting in breathless anxiety the emer-
gence of the severed fragments of the raft.
For, notwithstanding it had been firmly bound
together to conflict with the violent forces of the
passage, there was little reason to expect that it
would sustain unbroken the second shock of such
encounter, as that to which it was now doomed ;
much less, that their luckless comrade would
appear again adhering to its parts. Neverthe-
less, to their unspeakable joy, the raft and the
man emerged as before. The welcome of this
second preservation for a moment rekindled hope,
and suggested every possible expedient to ac-
complish a connexion between the shore and the
raft. But all in vain. The unfortunate man, in
the agony of his despair, supplicated their aid.
But what could they do ? Again, the raft and
its yet living tenant were on their wheelin ; and
rapid circuit towards the fearful vortex. Again
he fell upon his knees — and again plunged into
the deep, and disappeared. Who now could
hope in such a case ? — Even if he should emerge
again, it would only be to make the same round,
and fall again into the power of the same merci-
less and insatiate appetite. Yet he did emerge,
and ba ' ^ farewell to his comrades, and they bade
farewell to him: *' God bless you!" said he.

THE WIIIRLrOOL.

((

God have mercy on you !" said tlicy, in broken
accents. ** God liave mercy on me I' lie cried —
and again he disappeared in the whirl of the
waters.

The story is too })ainfLd. How much more
so — how indescribably agonizing, even to the
soldier inured to the sight of death, to have wit-
nessed the scene ! This was a new, an unknown
form of death. It was death inflicted, and life
brought back, only to die again, and again to
live to face death again — and yet again. How
dreadful to those who saw ! How much more
dreadful to the sutferer ! For them to see him,
and not to be able to help him — for him to
approach and face the aspects of that doom for
once — we will not undertake to say what it was.
To have once experienced all its horrors, and
then to be brought again before it, and to be
compelled to taste it in such quick and rapid
succession, and each repetition being more hor-
rible by the experimental knowledge of what it
is — who can conceive of it! The Norwegian
maelstrom is awful to think of. But the s'lip,
that is drawn into it, returns no more. Suppose
the current of some boiling eddy should bring
her to the surface of the sea again, and her crew
breathe again, only to face the same horrors a
second time — and a third ! Would they not

^11^

*ii

THE WHIRLPOOL.

say : '^ O God, forl)id the repetition, since we
cannot live."' Such was the condition of our ill-
fated victim of Niagara's Whirlpool. Death took
him into his embrace, inflicted on him all its
pangs, and then threw liim back, as if in ven-
geance, only to draw one breath of life ; and then
grasped and tortured him again, then threw him
back to life ; and then stretched forth his hand,
and seized him again. And at every approach.
Death seemed to say : Behold, how terrible 1
am !

Did he rise again ? — Aye, he did. And if
the story may be believed, the rati and the man
continued this perpetual round, until the intelli-
gence was conveyed to Queenston, some three
miles below, and a boat drawn out of the river,
and transported on wheels, and launched from the
lofty bank of two hundred feet, down through
the trees upon the basin, and the man was taken
off to serve yet longer, and fight the battles of
his king. And foi aught that is known by us,
he is still in his regiment. Scores of times he
faced the frowning terrors of the scene, — made
the deep plunge as many times, — took breath at
every interval — and was saved at last.*

* This story is constructed from information obtained upon
the spot, and is in sul).stance true.

If..

CHAPTER III.

■*!|

GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA.

Lake Ontario, it should be understood, is the
last in the chain of those fresh water seas, on the
bosoms of which tlie Author proposed to make his
excursion into the North-West Territory. This
ake lies betw^ni the British province of Upper
Canada on the north, and tlie state of New York
on the south, being about two hundred miles
in its length, east and west, and some fifty or
sixty in its greatest breadth. It is a scene of
active commerce ; floats a great deal of shipping ;
steam -packets of the largest burtlicn, and of the
best accommodations, are constantly plying upon
it ; and the flags of hostile navies have waved
over its bosom, and challenged and sought the
flerce encounter. The keel of n ship of war,
said at the time to hv the largest in the world,
was laid at Sacket's Harbour, in the state of New

hti

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'S^

GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA.

York, in the year 1814, and some progress made
in the building of it, before the news of peace in
February following. May it rot under the roof
which now covers it, before there shall ever be
occasion for its launching ! The outlet of Lake
Ontario is the beginning of the river St. Lawrence;
and a little below are the famous rapids of that
magnificent current, which make the scene of the
Canadian Boat-song.

Lake Erie lies south-west of Lake Ontario,
its eastern termination being at Buffalo, and run-
ning in a south-westerly course two hundred and
fifty miles, in breadth seventy miles j having
fho most desirable agricultural regions of Upper
Canada in the north, and parts of the states of
New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio, on the
south. This is also a sea of busy commerce ;
and a memorable naval action has once beefi
contested on its waters : the result of which
crowned the American Commodore Perry with
distinguished honours. While Britannia claims
the pride of ruling the ocean, America may, per-
haps, with modesty, assert suprem.acy on her
own fresh-water ceas. Better, however, that all
comparisons of this kind should be few and far
between. The cultivation of the kinder feelings
is as much more agreeable, as it is more dig-
nified.

GREAT LAKES OF IsOIlTII AMERICA.

The next in the ascending chain is Lake
St. Chiii, thirty miles in diameter, lying ahout
half-way between Lake Erie on the south, and
Lake Huron on the north, connected with the
former by the river Detroit, and with the latter
by the river bearing its own name, each current
measuring a channel of some thirty miles in
length. Lake Huron is a great inland sea, of
so many shapes, as to have no shape at all
definable. From its outlet, into the river St.
Clair on the south, to its head, into the Straits of
Michilimackinack, in the north-west, is perhaps
three hundred and fifty miles. Its greatest
breadth is probably about two hundred and fifty.
It opens a vast sea for the safe navigation of
shipping of any burthen, besides affording a
lodging place for a world of islands in its north-
ern regions, some larger and some smaller — and
most romantically situated in their relations to
each other — amounting in all to the number of
thirty -two thousand. The innumerable bays
and straits created by this cluster, most of them
navigable for almost any kind of craft, together
with the islands themselves, covered with forests,
and shooting up the most perfect form of the
pointed fir-tree, must pi»^sent a rare vision to
him who shall ever have the privilege of sailing
over them in a baloon.

% *'

Ill

GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA.

I i'

I','

it I

;ii

Lake Michigan is a beautiful sea, lying in the
form of a calf's tongue, except the single deformity
of Green Bay, an arm of ninety miles in length,
and thirty to forty broad, running oft' from its
west shoulder like a lobster's claw ; the bay
itself being of many and ugly shapes. Aside from
this, Lake Michigan is regular in its form, an
open and navigable sea, running from the straits
' of Michillimackinack on the north, (or, to save
trouble, we will henceforth say Mackinaiv^ as
the vulgar do), towards the south west about
three hundred and fifty miles, its greatest and
central breadth one hundred and fifty.*

But the Queen of fresh-water seas, all the
world over, is Lake Superior, most fitly named
for its magnificent dimensions and relative im-
portance. Its length, from east to west, is seven
hundred miles, and its greatest breadth, per-
haps, three hundred. It is generally an open
sea, and navigable to all its extremities, with a
few important islands thrown upon its bosom,
and some portions of the long circuit of its mar-
gin studded, not unlike the northern shore of

'* Not having the exact dimensions of these lakes from
authority, under hand, tliese statements are made from recol-
lection, and a glance view of the map. It is thought they
are within the actual limits, and sufficiently accurate for the
present purpose.

GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA.

Lake Huron. This vast inland sea has its outlet
into Lake Huron, by the Falls of St. Mary,
at its eastern termination ; or rather by a rapid
of one mile in length, making a descent of
twenty-two feet in that distance, and which might
easily be overcome for the purposes of naviga-
tion, by a ship canal of trifling expense. Apart
from the occupation of these waters by the bark
canoes of the aboriginal tribes, this lake, as yet,
is used for little else than the fur trade, and bar
but a few vessels upon it. But the masters of
these vessels are familiar with all its regions.
Lake Superior, it will be seen, is the most re-
mote of the seas we are now describing, as well
as most magnificent. Its waters and its shores
are the least visited by civilized man. No law
holds dominion there, but the law of interest, or
of passion. Its vast bosom, capable of floating
navies, and probably destined for such display,
ordinarily bears only the Indian bark upon its
waves. The wild and romantic solitudes of its
shores, and of the deep forests and unsurveyed
territories, by which they are bounded, as yet
have been familiar only with the howl of the
wild beasts, and little traced except by the de-
vious track of the red man, who pursues his
game to satiate his hunger; or by the sinuous
paths of the warrior train, intent upon revenge,

VOL. I. c

.11,

GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA.

w f

I' I

i-;

and thirsting for blood. The position of this
lake, in relation to those of which mention has
been made, and to the occupied territories of the
Canadas and of the United States, is for off in the
nortli-west.

The southern shore of Lake Superior is the
northern boundary of a large civil division of the
United States, called the North- West Territory;
where the events, which will occupy a large por-
tion, and make the leading topic of these pages,
transpired. The State of Illinois is on the
south of this territory; Lake Michigan on the
east ; and the river Mississippi on the west ; the
whole region extending from north latitude
42" 45' to nearly 49^ in its extreme border,
around and beyond the western termination of
Lake Superior ; and comprehending in its longest
line from east to west about nine degrees of
longitude. The principal scene, however, of the
events we are to notice, is laid on the eastern
margin of this territory, near the mouth of Fox
River, at the head of Green Bay.

But why this lesson in geography ? That all
concerned may know where they are, and under-
stand, as much as may be convenient, the rela-
tions of the events and things described, to other
things and events. It may be proper to say
in addition, as will ultimately appear, that the

GREAT LAKES OF NORTl/ AMERICA.

whole r>f this territory, till quite recently, has
been exclusively occupied by the aboriginal
tribes ; except as the fur traders have traversed
those regions to traffic with the Indians. Even
now there are but few other tenants of the
territory.

It may also be observed, that the northern
shores of this long chain of Lakes, and their con-
necting channels, or straits, called rivers, from
the outlet of Lake Ontario, nearly to the head of
Lake Superior, appertain to the British posses-
sions of North America, and lie within the exten-
sive province of Upper Ca.iada. And the exact
boundary between the contiguous jurisdiction of
the United States and the British dominions
there, as settled a few years since by a joint
Board of Commissioners from the two Govern-
ments, is for the most part an imaginary line,
running from and to certain assumed and fixed
points, intended to divide those immense inland
waters equally between the two Powers. The
Lakes themselves, for the purposes of commerce
and navigation, are necessarily subjected to regu-
lations, not unlike those which govern the high
seas ; but more easily arranged and executed, as
only two nations are concerned in their main-
tenance. The trace of this jurisdiction boun-
dary is of course exceedingly devious.

c 2

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( ;

CHAPTER IV.

MOTIVES FOR THE TOUR, &c.

Niagara Falls is yet the common boundary
in the West of the pleasure excursions for the
summer, with European visitants of the New
World, and with the travelling gentry of the
United States. Few find motive enough, or
feel sufficient ambition to endure the sea-sickness
of the Lakes, that they may penetrate farther,
merely for pleasure. It is true, that the rapid
crowding of the West, by an emigrant population,
settled all along the southern shore of Lake
Erie, and through the states of Ohio, Indiana,
Illinois, and the Territory of Michigan, together
with the grand communication now opened be-
tween the city of New York and the great
valley of the Mississippi over the bosom of Lake
Erie, has made that lake a busy scene of com-
mercial enterprise. Besides all the sailing craft

MOTIVES FOR THE TOUR.

employed, a Steam-packet leaves both the upper
and lower extremities of this Lake every day for
a voyage of forty-eight hours, more or less,
between Buffalo and Detroit, touching at the
principal ports on the southern shore ; and, in
addition to these, several Steamers are employed
in shorter trips. One stretches for the most
direct course through the entire of the Lake,
without touching at any of the intervening ports,
for the sake of dispatch, and to accomplish the
voyage in twenty-four hours. As might be ex-
pected, a constant stream of genteel travellers,
going to and from the Mississippi Valley, and to
and from the city of Detroit, for the various objects
of business, of visiting friends, of scientific obser-
vations, of gratifying curiosity, of executing public
trusts, or of finding a home for themselves and
families, in some one of those regions of promise, is
seen to be always moving there, like a fairy vision.
Once a month a Steam-packet leaves Buffalo
for the far off' re^^ions of the north-west, beyond
the city of Detroit, through the upper Lakes, to
answer the purposes of government, in keeping
up a communication with the garrisons of tho«:e
frontiers, and to accommodate the few travellers,
who may have business in those quarters, or who
are bold and romantic enough to push their
excursions of pleasure so far.

1^!

i^'

MOTIVES FOR THE TOUR.

As a Commission from the government of the
United States had been ordered to the North
West Territory, for Au[;ust, 1830, to kindle a
Council-fire, as it is called, and to smoke the
pipe, with a public assembly of the Chiefs of the
numerous tribes of Indians, in that quarter, for
the purpose of settling certain disputes cxi.sting
among themselves, in their relations to each
other, and also some misunderstandings between
sundry of their tribes and the general Govern-
ment, the Author having leisure, and being a
little curious to know more of this race, than he
had ever yet seen, conceived, that this extraordi-
nary occasion for the convention of the Chiefs
and representatives of the wilder and more remote
tribes, would afford a good opportunity for the
knowledge and observation he so much coveted.
He had seen not a little of the Indians, in their
semi-civilized conditions, as they are found in-
sulated here and there, in the midst of the white
population of the States ; and of course where
their manners, habits, character, and very nature
have been much modified by their intercourse
and intimacies with civilized society. The In-
dian of North America, in such circumstances,
is quite another being from the Indian in his
wild and unt'itored condition ; and as the advo-
cates fov the resolving of society into its original

CHARACTER OF WILD INDIANS.

elements, would say : — he is there in his unso-
phisticated nature.

No one can pretend to understand the cha-
racter of the aboriginal tenants of America, who
has seen them only as vit'ialed by contact with
Europeans. I say litiatecl. For, if they are
not made better by proper protection and culti-
vation, they become much worse, as human
nature, left to itself, is more susceptible of the
contagion of vice, than of improvement in virtue.
The Indian, thrown into temptation, easily takes
the vices of the white man ; and his race in such
exposures melts away, like the snow before a
summer's sun. Such has been the unhappy fate
of the aborigines of America, ever since the dis-
covery of that continent by Columbus. They
have melted away — and they are still melting
away. They have been cut off by wars, which
the provocations of the whites have driven them
to wage, — and the remnants, depressed, unpro-
tected— and in their own estimation humbled and
degraded, their spirit broken within them, — have
sunk down discouraged, and abandoned them-
selves to the fate of those, who have lost all
ambition for a political existence, and who covet
death rather than life.

The wild Indian, however, whose contact with
the European race has not been enough to

'^i

■■ sj

CHARACTER OF WILD INDIANS.

vitiate his habits, or subdue his self-importance,
— wlio still prowls the forest in the pride of his
independence, — who looks upon all nations and
tribes, but his own, as unworthy of the contemp-
tuous glance of his eye, — whose dreams of
importance become to him a constant reality,
and actually have the same influence in the for-
mation of his character, as if they were all that
they seem to him; — he regards himself as the
centre of a world, made especially for him. Such
a being, and much more than this, who is not
a creature of the imagination, but a living actor
in the scenes of earth, becomes at least an
interesting object, if he does not make a problem,
yet to be solved, in moral philosophy, in politics,
in the nature and character of man, as a social
being.

'•h

'■■'■'< I.

♦•

BRVf

CHAPTER V.

THE ROMANCE OF EXPECTATION, &c.

That the author indulged many romantic ex-
pectations, in the excursion that was before him,
was not only natural, but warranted. He could
not reasonably be disappointed, so long as imagi-
nation did not become absolutely wild aud
ungovernable, and fly away from earth — or "call
for spirits from the vasty deep" — or fancy things,
of which heaven or earth aftbrds no likeness.
In constitutional temperament and in principle
I was rather fond of the fascinating and ever
changing hues, which genuine poetry throws over
the variegated phases of the natural world.
The universe I had been accustomed to regard,
as one grand poetic panorama, laid out by the
Creator's hand, to entertain uncorrupt minds,
without danger of satiety, and to "lead them up

c 3

■>' I

P M

34 THE POETRY OF NATURE AND RELIGION.

i:iJ,iA

through nature's works to nature's God." Ser-
mons I could find, or believed were to be found,
** in trees, and brooks, and stones ; and good in
every thing." *' The heavens declare the glory
of God," and "the earth is full of his bounty" —
and he who does not admire the former, to the
praise of Plim that made them, and partake of
the rich gifts of the latter with gratitude to their
author, it must be ascribed alike to his stupidity
and depravity. I have thought, that he who
cannot appreciate sucli sentiments, can never
sympathise with the best feelings, and happiest
condition of man. The universe, in all its parts,
suggests them; and neaven itself, we have rea-
son to believe, is full of them. And there is
no place so natural to song, so full of music, so
beautiful in its attractive forms, or so enchanting
in the combination and display of its glories to
the eye, as heaven. All the most lively and
glowing sentiments of true religion, of genuine
piety, are of a poetic character. And the highest
and sweetest inspirations of Divine Revelation,
it need not be said, are all poetry.

Green Bay, in the North West Territory, where
we were destined, is commonly reckoned the end
of the world. It is not even imagined, by the vul-
gar, that there is any place, or any human being, or
any thing with which mortals may have to do,

NURSERY TALES.

beyond it. Besides, the way is long — the seas
dangerous and ever liable to sudden and dis-
astrous storms — ihe shores uninhabited, or te-
nanted only here and there by the inhospitable
savage. Latitude and longitude and clime were
all to be changed, and changed too by a long
stretch — not long perhaps to such a voyager as
Captain Cook, or Captain Parry ; but yet long
and dubious, and in no small degree romantic,
to one, who had never been accustomed to the
wilder regions of the new world. To go up among
the Indians, the savages of the wilderness ! and
be their guest, far from the territories of civilized
man ! Who has not listened in the nursery to
the tales of Indian wars, of the tomahawk and
scalping knife, of the midnight massacre and burn-
ing of villages and towns ; of the mother butchered
with her infant in her arms ; of the grey head, and
man in full vigour of life, slaughtered together ;
and a train of tender captives, driven away to glut
the vengeance of the savage, by the endurance of
every imaginable torture ; — until the story has
thrilled his blood with horror, and he re-
fused to be left in his bed, till his nurse, who
had frightened him, had sung him to sleep?
And although he may have stood corrected in
his maturer years, and entertained less horrible
notions of the savage, still he can never alto-

•-Ai

Mil

■

THE SAVAGE PROPER.

gether efface his first i'npressions. The poetry
of his feelings often overpowers his judgment,
and he not only anticipates much from he sight
of a savage in his native regions and costume ;
but he involuntarily shrinks from the peculiar,
rigid, and stern aspect of his countenance ; shud-
ders at the thought of what may possibly be
working in his soul ; and calculates a thousand
imaginable results of an interview, which per-
chance has placed him in the power of such an
unsocial and awful being. There stands before
him a naked man, with visage painted horrible,
whose every muscle demonstrates his custom to
exertion and fatigue, who knows not how to
smile ; who never sleeps, or wakes, but that a
weapon of death is girded to his side, or borne
in his hand ; who is a creature of passion, and
inflexible in his purpose, when once resolved ;
who conceals his thoughts beneath his imper-
turbable countenance ; who never betrays his
emotions, however deep and strong they are ; —
who can be indiflfertiit in such society? But we
must not anticipate the scenes to come.

Having made the reader already so much
acquainted with Lake Erie, we will not detain
him long upon a sea familiar to his thoughts. It
may be remarked, that the surface of this lake is
five hundred and seventy-five feet above high

y. ,!

■fif

EMBARKATION.

water on the Hudson river at Albany, the
Eastern termination of the Erie canal. The
rapids and Falls of Niagara, the rapids of the
St. Lawrence, and the general descent of these
waters to the ocean, make the difference.

About the 20th of July, 1830, we embarked
at Buffalo in the steam-packet, Superior^ for
Detroit, and made the passage in two days,
skirting the southern shore, and touching at the
principal ports, without remarkable incident,
except an unpleasant encounter with an army
of musquitoes in the bay of Sandusky, which
were taken on board at the port of the same
name, in lieu of passengers left behind ; and
whose audaciousness, ferocity, and blood-thirsti-
ness, were enough to make one out of temper
with the place ; and which, notwithstanding all
attempts to ward off their assaults, inflicted upon
us many deep and annoying impressions.

Lake Erie is unchequered by islands, till we
begin to approach its western regions ; where,
instead of an open sea, the beautiful and curving
shores of the main land, and of the insular terri-
tories, covered as they generally are with un-
broken forests, and opening channels and bays
in every direction, lend a vision of enchantment,
rarely equalled, to the eye of the passenger,
borne along upon the bosom of the deep. It

. •

BEAUTIES OF LAKE ERIE.

I 'I

t ?

•> I

presents the aspects of nature, in all her chastc-
ness, UTitouchedj inviolate ; and when the wind
is lulled, and the face of the waters becomes a
sea of glass, it is nature's holiest sabbath ; and
seems to forbid the approach and trespass of the
dashing engine, which rushes forward in fury
and envy of the scene ; while the passenger,
wrought 10 ecstacy in contemplation of the novel
exhibition, shrinks back within himself involun-
tarily, as if in fear of some sudden retribution
from above, for the daring violation of this sa-
cred retreat of nature's repose. In a mood like
this, the stranger enters the river of Detroit,
almost level with its banks, fancies he hears the
thunders of old Maldon, (a British fort on the
Canada side at the mouth of the river), gazes at
the mean and sordid huts of the unambitious
French, (for however unexpected the announce-
ment, there are no people in the world more
distant from ambition, than the French of
Canada), — admires the lightness and celerity,
which characterize the movements of the Indian
canoe, filled with copper-coloured faces and un-
covered heads, and darting up and down and
across the stream, in obedience to the paddles,
which enter the water so still and with so little
apparent effort, as scarcely to disturb the sur-
face ; — and soon finds himself laid in the docks

ARRIVAL AT DETROIT.

31)

of a busy and flourishing port, presenting hand-
some streets and handsome steeples, itself the
ancient seat of Indian war and Indian romance,
identified and connected with a history like
romance.

' i*!

CHAPTER VI.

HISTORY OF DETROIT, &c.

Detroit has long been regarded as the Hmit
of civihzation towards the north-west — and to tell
truth, there is even yet but little of the character
of civilization beyond it. As may be seen from
the map, it rests upon the west side of the strait,
or river, which connects Lake Huron with Lake
Erie; about ten miles below that small exten-
sion of the strait, called Lake St. Clair ; and
twenty miles above the north shore of Lake Erie,
towards its western extremity. This town, or
commercial port, is dignified with the name, and
enjoys the chartered rights, of a city ; although
its population at present does not exceed three
thousand. The banks of the river above and
below the city are lined with a French popula-
tion, descendants of the first European traders
among the Lidians, in that quarter ; and extend-
ing from Lake Erie to Lake St. Clair, increasing

'.*■ (1

HISTORY OF DETROIT.

in density, as they approach the town, and
averaging perhaps one hundred per mile.

The city of Detroit dates its history from July
1701. At that time M. de la Motte Cadillac,
with one hundred men, and a Jesuit, carrying with
them every thing necessary for the commencement
and support of the establishment meditated,
reached this place. " How numerous and di-
versified," says a public literary document, " are
the incidents compressed within the history of
this settlement! No place in the United States
presents such a series of events, interesting in
themselves, and permanently aHecting, as they
occurred, its progress and prosperity. Five
times its flag has changed — three diiferc t sove-
reignties have claimed its allegiance, and since it
has been held by the United States, its govern-
ment has been thrice transferred. Twice it has
been besieged by the Indians, once captured in
war, and once burned to the ground."

It should be observed, that the French trading
ports, on the Upper Lakes, preceded the settle-
ment of Detroit by nearly fifty years ; that as
early as 1673 they had descended the Mississippi,
as far as the Arkanses; and that in 1G79 Robert
de la Sale penetrated through the Delta of the
Mississippi, and saw its waters mingle with
the Gulf of Mexico. Then was the interesting

EARLY TRADING POSTS.

and vast conception formed and matured, of esta-
blishing a cordon of posts from Quebec, by •vay
of the Upper Lakes and the Mississippi, to the
Mexican seas — an enterprise, which, considering
the age and the obstacles, both physical and
moral, may proudly take rank with any thing
do-v in later days.

What child, whose vernacular tongue is Eng-
H-hj has not listened to Indian story with an
intensity cf interest, which he can never cease to
cherish; cmd with expectation of something new
and newer still, from the wildness and fierce-
ness of savage enterprise ? Where is the mpn,
however grave with philosophy and bowed with
the weight of years, however accustomed to things
prodigious, whose ear will not bend to the pro-
mise of him, who announces an untold page of
Indian warfare ? He who is read in the strifes
of civilized nations, can easily anticipate the
modes and the results, even of Napoleon's cam-
paigns. But he who follows the track of the
savage, thirsting for blood, expects some new
development of stratagem and cruelty, at every
turn.

Like Tec.wiseh, whose name signifies a tiger
crouching for his prey, a man great in council
and in war; and who bore the commi?^sion of
chief of the Indian forces, in the British army

PONTIACS CONSPIRACY.

in the late war; — like him, the Ottawa chieftain,
of the middle of the last century, gave demon-
stration of a spirit, which in other circumstances,
might have left him a name, not inferior to Alex-
ander, or Cesar, or Napoleon. It is sufficient
to say, that in 1763, a time of profound peace,
Pontiac had attained such influence and supre-
macy over all the Indian tribes, spread over
those extensive regions, as to ha^o united them
in a grand confederacy for the in. '^a? neous ex-
tinction of all the European pf . *^ ai> jg a thou-
sand miles of frontier; ant' tict he actually
succeeded, so far as to cut ofl, almost simul-
taneously, nine out of ticelv*. ii these military
establishments. The surprise of Michillimacki-
nack, one of these stations, is narrated in the
following manner, })y the document above quoted :
" The fort was then upon the main land,
near the northern point of the peninsula. The
Ottawas, to whom the assault was committed,
prepared for a great game of ball, to which the
officers of the garrison were invited. While
engaged in play, one of the parties gradually
inclined towards the fort, and the other pressed
after them. The ball was once or twice thrown
over the pickets, and the Indians were suffered
to enter and prociu'e it. Nearly all the garrison
were present as spectators, and those un duty

}

DETROIT SAVED.

V 'm\

■!■}

were alike unprepared, as unsuspicious. Sud-
denly the ball was again thrown into the fort,
and all the Indians rushed after it. The rest of
the tale is soon told. The troops were butchered,
and the fort destroyed."

But no one stratagem of Indian warfare is like
another. We only know, that eight of the other
stations were annihilated nearly at the same
instant. Detroit was one of the three stations
successfully defended, but not without the shed-
ding of much blood. Pontiac himself appeared
before it. And so unsuspected was his stratagem,
that nothing would have prevented its triumphant
execution, but for the informations of a friendly
Indian woman. Pontiac had negotiated a great
council to be held in the fort, to which himself
and warriors were to be admitted, with rifles
sawed off and hid under their blankets ; by
which, with the tomahawk and knife, at a con-
certed signal from their chieftain, they were to
rise and massacre the garrison. But in conse-
quence of the advice from the woman, the garri-
son were prepared. Pontiac and his warriors
being rebuked, were too generously dismissed,
and in return for this kindness commenced and
waged a most bloody war.

Pontiac, unsuccessful in his wars against these
posts, notwithstanding the great advantages he

^;<

roNTiAc s di:atii.

had gained, and after committing numberless and
untold cruelties, (though he was not without his
fits of generosity, and of w}iat are called the
noble traits of Indian character), — implacable
in his hatr 1 and resentments ; finally retired
to the Illinois, in the south-west, and was there
assassinated by the hand of an Indian. " The
memory of this great Ottawa chief," says the
document used above, and from which this ac-
count is abridged, " is still held in reverence
among his countrymen. And wliatever be the
fate, which awaits them, his name and deeds will
live in their traditionary narratives, increasing in
interest, as they increase in years."

Detroit, originally, and for ages a post for
trade, and a garrison for its protection — having
enjoyed and suffered alternately peace and war,
with the aborigines and between rival civilized
powers, for such a long series of years — has
now become the beautiful and flourishing metro-
polis of a wide and interesting territory — a terri-
tory destined soon to make at least two of the
most important states of the American Union.
The city looks proudly across one of the noblest
rivers of the continent, upon the territory of a
great and rival power, and seems to say, though
in such vicinity, in reference to her former expo-
sure and painful vicissitudes : — *' Henceforth I

s \

^i(

TERRITORY OF MICHIGAN.

will sit in peace, and grow and flourish under
the wing of this Confederate Repuhlic." And
this place, hut a little while ago so distant, is
now brought within four days of the city of New
York — the track })ursued being seven hundred
and fifty miles. Here, at Detroit, some of the
finest steamers in North America, come and go
every day, connecting it with the east, and have
begun alrcudy to search out the distant west and
north.

The peninsula of Michigan, lying between the
lake of the same name on the west, and Huron on
the east, is one of the greatest beauties of the
kind in America, if not in the world. Where
can be found such a tongue of land, and of so
great extent, skirted by a coast of eight hundred
miles, of the purest fresh-water seas, navigable
for ships of any burthen ? The climate mild and
healthful, the country ascertained to be the best
of land — with streams and rivers sufficient for all
useful purposes — and the upland level, between
the two great lakes, chequered with innumerable
small lakes, or basins, of one, three, five, and ten
miles in circumference, pure and clear as the
fountains of Eden, and abounding with fish, as
do the rivers. There is something in the cha-
racter of these basins of water, and in the multi-
tude of them, which imparts a charm to this

ITS BEAUTIES.

j.-'H

region, altogether unrivalled. They are the
sources of the rivers and smaller streams, which
How into either lake — themselves and their outlets
pure as crystal. How many gentlemen of large
estates, and nohlemen of Europe, have under-
taken to create artificial lakes, and fill them with
fish — which after all their pains are doomed to
the constant deposits of filth and collections ol'
miasmata ; r<"d which maybe clouded by the plunge
of a frog ? But in the territory of Michigan is a
world of lakes, created by the hand of God, of all
dimensions and shapes, just fitted for the sports
of fancy, of childhood, and of youth — for the
relaxations of manly toil — for the occupation of
leisure ; — the shores of which are overhung with
beautiful and wholesome shades — and the waters
deep, and so clear, that the fish cannot play in
their lowest beds, without betraying their mo-
tions to the observer, floating in his bark upon
the surface. The common processes of nature
maintain the everlasting and perfect purity of
these waters, independent of the care of man.
The transparency of the waters, in those upper
regions, and in the great lakes, is a marvel — an
incredible wonder to those, who have been accus-
tomed only to turbid lakes and turbid rivers.

m:\

■^n

! 1

I;:

' I !
f , ■ ;

: 1 ■ '

CHAPTER VII.

IlEMARKyVBLE INSTANCE OF CAPITAL CRIME.

We will not detain the reader any longer at
Detroit, except to notice a remarkable instance
of capital crime. On the 26th of July, during
our stay at Detroit, S. G. S. received the sen-
tence of death, from the proper tribunal, for the
murder of his wife, under circumstances, aggra-
vated by brutality and savageness, too painful for
recital ; and in the cont mplation of which huma-
nity shudders. The wretched man's own children
were the principal witnesses, on whose testimony
he had been convicted. In telling the story of
their mother's dreadful end, they brought their
father to the gallows. In the progress of the trial,
a history of savage violence was disclosed, such,
we would fain believe, as rarely passes upon the
records of crime. What demon of hell can be
more fatal to human happiness, and to the souls
of men, than ardent spirits? The children, a

REMARKABLE INSTANCE, &'C.

son and two daughters, of adult years, testified
abundantly to the natural aniiableness and aticc-
tionatc kindness, in the conjugal and parental
relations, not only of the mother, but also of
their father, in his sober moments. But when
intoxicated, he seemed possessed of the furies of
a more abandoned world.

As the murderer entered the place of judg-
ment, and was conducted to the bar to receive
the sentence of the law, I observed in him a
noble luunan form, erect, manly, and dignified ;
of large but well proportioned stature; bearing a
face and head not less expressive, than the most
perfect bean ideal of the Roman ; with a coun-
tenance divinely fitted for the play of virtue, of
every parental and conjugal affection ; and an
eye beaming out a soul, which might well be
imagined to have been once susceptible of the
love and worship of the Eternal One — all — all
marred and spoiled by the demon of intemper-
ance ; and now, alas ! allied to murder of the
most diabolical cast. Rarely is seen among the
sons of men a more conmianding human form,
or a countenance more fitly set to intelligence
and virtue— made, all would say, to love and
be honoured. lUit now what channe bv the
debasements of brutal appetite, and the ini])r0"
voked indulgence aiid instigation of a I'atal

VOL. I. D

.. 'ii

1 1

REMARKABLE INSTANCE

-!■

passion! By what a fearful career of vice and
crime, bad he come to this ! " What a piece of
work is man! how noble in reason! bow infinite
in faculties ! in form and moving, bow express
and admirable ! in action, how like an angel ! in
apprehension, bow like a god ! the beauty of
the world, the paragon of animals!" But when
debased and ruined by vice, how like a fiend,
in shape so unbefitting such a spirit! And yet,
who could see the fiendly stamp upon this poor
and wretched man ? For he wept — he sobbed !
His iinnost soul heaved with anguish! he bore
the marks oi contrition. As a man, and such a
man if we could forget his crime — he was to be
respected ; as l)eing in a condition of suflfering,
he was to be pitied; and as seeming the image
of repcntancv^ heaven might forgive what man
could not.

It was an awful hour, when he approached the
bar even of this earthly tribunal, anticipating
well his doom. For a jury of his country, as he
knew, had set their seal upon it. As he entered
this now awful chamber of justice, he cast his
eye around upon the expecting throng, whose
presence and gaze could only be a mockery of
his condition; — and with the greatest possible
effort for self-possession, braced his muscular ener-
.^ies to support his manly frame, while trembling

«B^ '

OF CAPITAL CRIME.

under tlie tempest of passion, which agitated
his soul. But the moment he was seated, all
his firmness dissolved into the weakness of a
child ; — and he wept ; — he sohbed aloud. A
silence reigned through the crowd, and a thrill
of sympathy seemed to penetrate every heart.

The court, unaccustomed in that land to such
an office, felt themselves in a new and an awful
condition, with a icllow-being arraigned at their
bar, cha'-ged and convicted of a most atrocious —
and in its circumstances, an unparalleled crime,
and his doom suspended at that moment on their
lips. Tlieir emotions were too evident to be
mistaken, and in the highest degree honourable
to their hearts. *' S. G. S." — the name in full
being pronounced by the court, broke the awful
silence of the place, — "have you any thing to
say, why the judgment of the court should not
now be pronounced?" The prisoner rose con-
vulsed, and with faltering voice, and in broken
accents, replied : " Nothing, if it please the court,
except what I have already communicated" — and
resumed his seat. Upon which a very apprc^-
priate, eloquent, and impressive address was
made by the court to the prisoner, setting forth
the fact and nat u'c of the crime, of which he
stood convicted ; appealing to his own knowledge
for the fairness of his trial ; and to his own

D 2

■ i

i):

REMARKARLK INSTANCE

;

'ttl

consciousness of the justice of liis doom ; com-
mendini,^ liim to heaven for that clemency, which
he could no longer ask of men; — and then the
awful sentence was pronounced. " And may
God Almighty," said the judge, with that sub-
dued emphasis and touching pathos, which be-
came the responsibility of his office, and the
nature of the occasion — "may God Almighty
have mercy on your soul."

The prisoner, by all the testimony, was in his
nature kind. He had loved his wife excessively,
and loved her, strange as it may seem, unto the
last. And for that very love he was the more
cruel, and the greater monster. He was jealous
of her fidelity, without cause. Jealousy! " 'tis a
monster begot upon itself — born on itself."
"That's he — that teas Othe^lvi !" And only
when intoxicated with strong drink did this ter-
rible passion gain i dominion over him. In the
moments of his .so!)iiety, he loved and confided,
and could say in company of his wife,

" ]My soul hath her content so absohitc,
Tlh'it not another comfort like to thee,
Succeeds in unknown tato."

But it would seem, that hell itself were scarcely
more furious, or more terrible, than he, when the
demon of ardent spirits assumed control of his

■

OF CAPITAL CRIME.

5ii

passions. If demoniacs were now-a-days about,
die name of that man, in such predicament and
mood, were worthy to be written, as prince of the
host. But in prison, and before tlie tribunal ot
justice, this wretched being, once kind in nature,
and made a fiend by the abuse of his nature,
«tood dispossessed, the guihy and conscious
nuu'derer of her, wliom he espoused in her youth
and lovehness, and who was ever worthy of liis
love; — and whom he took to his bosom, and pro-
mised, by the light and love of lieaven, to be her
husband and protector.

He was executed on the 21th of September.

4 ■ I

;^l

• I

CHAPTER VIIl.

EMBARKATION FROM DETROIT, &( .

On the 4th of August the steam-packet, Shel-
don I'homson, left Detroit for the Upper Lakes,
her ultimate destination heing Green Bay, witii
tlie United States' Commissioners, bound on tlie
errand heretofore aUuded to, and which we shall
notice again by-and-by ; — three companies of
troops for the frontier garrisons ; — several parties
of ladies and gentlemen ; some in pursuit of
pleasure, some of materials for science and litera-
ture ; some of business ; some families returning,
or emigrating to those new and remote settle-
ments;— with pigs, poultry, &c. &c. As near
f^s we recollect, tlic number of souls on board,
including troops, commissioners and suite, ladies
and j«.,ontlr men, and the crew — was not far from
i>i:o hundred and fifty.

The iarityof this expedition gave it some im-
p rtance. The character of the compiuiy, but

CAPTAIN SYMMKS THEORY.

i).)

especially the objects of the mission from Govern-
ment to the Indians oi the North-^^'est, magnified
the interest not inconsiderably. It is true there
is some sailin^i craft habitually employed in this
line of navigation. It is also true, that one of the
steam-packets of Lake Erie, ordinarily makes a
trip into those remote regions, some two or three
limes in a season; as encouragements offer. But
Detroit is reckoned the common limit of the
c'owd, who flock to the west in the summer ; anti
a trip beyond is quite notable, and esteemed a
great treat with the curious, and with all who
liave a taste for novel, wild, and romantic scenery;
or an ambition to see that which is seldom seen by
the common herd of travellers. It is confessed,
that an expedition to the North Pole, is somewhat
more important to the persons concerned; — and
if they have the good luck to get back again,
it may be more im})ortant to the world. If
Captain Synmies had lived to accomplish his
expedition to the centre of the earth, that
would at least have been more interesting. It
is possible, it may not yet be understood, all
the world over, that the earth is hollow, and to
be entered by a passage towards the imaginary
poles ; the polar points being themselves of
course in the celestial re£>:ions, and therefore
unattainable to man. This important discovery

BUSTLE OF THE EMBARKATION.

m .

■vvas made by the above-named Captain Synimes,
of Ohio, United States.

It is not pretended, tliat tlie particular expedi-
tion, which makes the su])ject of our story, can
claim a paramount importance, with either of those
just alluded to. But still it attracted considerable
attention. All the newspapers of the country —
at least very extensively — announced it long
beforehand ; — that is — the proprietors of the
steam-packet took care to put it in circulation,
for the greater profit of the voyage, by attracting
the attention of the curious, and offering motive
to the enterprising. It was by this sort of news-
paper puffing, that the author was drawn iiito
the train ; as was the fact with a great portion of
the company.

On the morning of the 4th of August, the city
of Detroit was in no little bustle, and the wharf,
along-side of which lay the Sheldon Thomson,
with her signals snapping in the wind, exhibited
a most busy swarm of human beings, runnuig
to and fro, in the way of preparation. At eleven
o'clock A. M. the gun was fired, and the packet
bore away for Lake St. Clair, under all the force
of wind and steam, and with as fine a day, as the
sun ever matle upon the earth. Indeed the scene
and the occasion were quite inspiriting : and the
objects in view wore the aspect of many powerful

LAKE ST. CLAIR.

^W\m

■

and romantic attractions. The beautiful city ol'
Detroit l)egan to recede, while the packet, l)orne
alon«( between the Canadian shore and \\o\;
Island, (a name, it must be confessed, ill deserved
by a thing so beautiful) glided in fine style into
the opening expanse of Lake St. Clai/.

Lake St. Clair, as before recognized, is an
expansion of the strait, nearly in a circular form,
with a diameter of thirty miles ; and in conse-
quence of the depression of all its shores, and
there being no hills in the innncdiatc interior,
the position of a vessel in any part of its border,
opens from the deck a shoreless sea in the distant
prospect. The centre of the lake presents a
beautiful and enchanting looming up of the
shores, as the sailors call it, in all directions ;
and the marginal forests, broken every here and
there, by the indentations of the coast, seem to
hang suspended in the horizon, between the sea
and the heavens, and play and dance before the
eye, in a sort of fairy vision. The images of this
kind, fore and aft, and on either side, were con-
tinually changing their forms, and showing the
most fantastic shapes, as the vessel wended her
serpentine course, by the channel through the
lake, from its southern to its northern border.
For Lake St. Clair is an exception to all the
others, in this particular : that its waters are

D o

LAKE ST. CLAIR.

generally shallow, except in the channel ; ami
that channel is perpetually changuig by the etiect
of storms, and rec^uires a frequent survey for the
direction of the pilot. Indeed this body of water
is hardly worthy to be dignified with the name
of a Lake^ in comparison of the others, and might
as well be considered, as a flooding of low lands
— which seems to be the exact truth. The main,
current of water through it, however, always
maintains a channel, suflicient for all the pur-
poses of navigation, though it is somewhat
devious.

The passage over Lake St. Clair, in a day of
such unrivalled physical glories, in such a com-
pany, on such an expedition, leaving the regions
of civilization behind us, and just about to plunge
into the regions of barbarism ; — or rather, flying
from a world, violated by the track and by the
hand of man, into a world of virgin waters and
into a virgin wilderness — all vast, and their pro-
per character inconceivable, except by actual
inspection ; such a passage might well make an
apology for the indulgence of some trifling in-
gredients of poetry and romance. Every heart
seemed light and buoyant, as the clouds floating
in the sky, and its attections active, as the ele-
ments by which the bark, which made their home,
was M^afted along ; — and all prospects bright and

INTEREST OF THE SCENE.

>J)

cheering, as the sun, \vhicli shone upon the scene.
The chmate and aspects of the heavens seemed
clianged. The clouds, such, as a clear atmo-
sphere and its brisk currents fold together in their
fleecy robes, and toss along in suUinic and ma-
jestic sp'/.c; — the shores and islets successively
receding in one direction, and coming into view
from another; — a nevv and fine steamci*, dashing
through the waves, with all her sails set to the
breeze, and crammed with a population, like bees
upon the hive, in a summer's day, all life and
bustle ; — the toute ensemble presented a scene,
as picturescjue, as could well be grouped, under
a traveller's eye. And then again the variety of
character on board : three detachments of raw
recruits, bidding adieu to the common world,
and going to occupy the frontier posts, to keep
the peace between the traders and Indians, be-
tween the Indians themselves, and if needs be,
between the querulous parties of Canadians and
Americans, strolling in those regions; — a Commis-
sion from Government, on their way to settle dis-
putes and negotiate treaties with the aboriginal
tribes of the North-West ; — traders, voyagers of
pleasure and observation, and friends going to
visit friends, in those distant retreats ; — a vicnr
general from the pope of Rome, with plenipoten-
tiary powers of remission and retention in things

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80

(716) 872-4503

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LELTA OF lUVEIl ST. CLAIR.

spiritual, and of supervising the interests of the
Cathohc churcii ; together with two Protestant
clergymen and a missionary of Mackinaw ; —
men, women, and children of all grades, and all
conditions — and withal the rare character of the
excursion ; — all these things together, as might
be supposed, contributed to lend an interest and
a charm to the expedition, so auspiciously com-
menced, not easily conceived by any one, who
did not make one of the party.

About four o'clock, p.m., we found ourselves,
hard upon what may be called, with the greatest
propriety, the Delta of the river St. Clair, which
discharges itself by dhont fifty mouths into the
lake of the same name. The principal navigable
channels are Jive. The extended marshes, chal-
lenging the utmost scope of the eye, lying only a
few inches higher than the water, and all waving
with heavy burdens of high prairie grass ; — the
meandering mouths of the river, shooting in every
direction, and insulating the region in the most
fantastic forms ; — the thick and impenetrable
copses of wood, of larger and smaller extent,
springing up here and there, in all their various
shapes, until after a few miles they are merged
in one unbroken forest, and seeming to vie with
the outlets of the river in creating a variety of
their own pecuHar kind; — these several and

■'i

RELICS OF rilLNCII I'OPULATION.

<;i

combined features, clian^inir their forms con-
tiiiually, as we ascended the channel selected,
like the coming and flitting visions of creative
fancy, might almost dispossess a sober man of his
senses, and persuade him, by a world of reality,
that he was in a world of illusions. And then to
see the French huts — for the French are to be
found, scattered along the old line of trading
posts, from Quebec to Detroit, from Detroit to
Mackinaw, at the head of Lake Huron, from
Mackinaw across the North -West Territory to
Prairie du C/tien, on the Mississippi ; and from
the last point along the banks of that mighty
river, to the Gulf of Mexico — to look u})on the
habitations of that indolent race, so mean and
sordid, as they are, resting upon the river's brink,
and demonstrating by their every feature a dull and
lazy existence, akin to that of the savage ; — and
now and then to see a group of Indians, old
and young, male and female, some entirely naked,
and others with the rag of a shirt, or blanket
never washed, pendant and ready to drop by its
rottenness from their shoulders — darting out ot
a thicket upon the bank, and running and jump-
ing with frantic, or joyous signs and exclama-
tions of amazement, to see such a great canoe,
so full of people, and rushing up against the tide,
drawn, as they imagine, by great sturgeons,

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62 A PICTURE OF FRENCH AND INDIANS.

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liarnessed under water ; — we a wonder to them and
they a very piece of romance to us ; — who, fresh
from the centre of civihzation, and unaccustomed
to these scenes, would not gaze with interest, and
iniaiiine himself drcamiuir ? —

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I , . m

CIlAPTKIl IX.

RIVER ST. CLAIR, &c.

After leaving Lake St. Clair, we run in the
evening about fifteen miles up the river, having
enjoyed one of the most brilliant sunsets that
Italy, or Greece could ever boast of, — and then
stopped to take in a supply of fuel for Mackinaw.
The rest of the night from nine in the evening,
till four in the morning, was industriously occu-
pied in running twenty-five miles to Fort Gratiot,
having the double obstacle of a stiff current to
stem, equal to a rapid, and a schooner in tow,
which with us, was bound for the Upper Lakes.
If this vessel in toiv could not classically be
called an obsta-c\e, it was at least a grave Saxon
/told back. But nevertheless, as the master of
the steamer was sure of oi/r money, there seemed
no objection in his mind to get a little more, for
helping this weather-bound ship; although he
had never stipulated with us for the privilege.
And besides, if it was not an act of humanity, it

/
.,ii

■■}.

FORT HRATIOT,

wasakintlncss — it being understood, that vessels,
upward bound, are often detained in this current,
not only days, but weeks, before a south wind
s})rin<i:s up, sufficiently strong to bear them into
Lake Huron.

Fort (Jratiot lias the honour of its name from
its original projector, Colonel Gratiot, now chiei'
engineer of the United States at Washin<Tton.
The fort has a beautiful and commanding ])osi-
tion, innnediately at the outlet of Huron, and of
course at the commencement of the strait, called
the river St. Clair ; which, opposite the fort, is
so narrow and rapid, as to require nearly the full
power of a steamer to force her up. With our
schooner /told back, it seemed for a long time
doubtful, whether the packet would be able to
run into the lake. She buffeted the current
" with lusty sinews," springing to one side, then
to the other, like the draught-horse, pulling his
burden up hill ; but notwithstanding often went
backward instead of forward, and gained no-
thing, until, by raising the steam, more perhaps,
than what was prudent, she finally carried her
companion into the sea above, and tlien dismissed
her to make her own way. This current is deep,
and a sublime object, not only in consideration of
its own rapid career, but more especially, when
we reflect, that here all the waters of Huron,

1:1
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AND VISIT THEIIE.

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Micliifjan, ami SiiptM'ior, arc disiMiil)OLjuiiiL;*
tlirough so narrow a cluumel, witli a dcteriuiiia-
tioii not to 1)0 rcsistod.

Those of tlio passengtM's, wlio were disposed,
liad time at (iratiot to go on shore, and view tlie
fort. At tliat time it was surrounded oidy by
pickets, fit only to check an Indian assault. It
was ordered, however, from the importance of its
position on the Canada frontier, to be made a
strong place. It is understood, that the opposite
side of the river^ within nuisket shot, is in the
British dominions. Our reception at the fort
was not only polite and cordial, but even in the
forms of drawing-room parade. They had been
notified of the visit, and knew the very hour to
expect it. And as such a call rarely happens in
that secluded and wild retreat, they must needs
take it when it comes, and make the most of it.
It was in all respects a grateful interview, and
well improved. An hour's interchange of civili-
ties on such an occasion, and in such a place,
are moments of high enjoyment — they make an
incident in the common monotony of life, and
a subject of interesting recollections.

Among my memoranda of this voyage, I fmd
the following : — -

August C) : — Still in Lake Huron, and borne
onward with great rapidity by wind and steam, —

. t:

,' I."

■1

■I.

MEMORANDA

tlie latter of which we always have at conimaml,
and the former being most favourable; — our
course laid for the river St. Mary, or rather for
the common passage, leading to Lake Superior.
For th.cre is no such thing, as the river St. Mary,
commonly marked as such, in the books and
charts. That region is a world of islands, straits,
and bays. Lake Huron, as the map will show,
is one of the great inland seas of the North-West.
Our course from the river St. Clair to St. Mary's,
is nearly a direct line, keeping the west shore
ordinarily in sight, when the weather will permit.
The borders of this lake present a wild, unin-
habited region — and the navigation beautiful in
its stillness ; but doomed to fitful and terrible
agitations by the sudden waking of the tempest.
The greatest fury of the wide Atlantic is mere
mockery to Huron's maddest moods and roughest
shapes. The most experienced mariner of the
former has been filled with wonder, and stood
aghast at the terrors of the latter.

Evening of the same day: — At anchor in St.
Mary's Straits, five miles from the Falls. Our
passage from Fort Gratiot to the west straits,
plunging into an open and wide sea, we made in
thirty-six hours, the wind all the way in favour,
and for a good part of the time leaving the
western shore, and of course all other land out

OF LAKE HURON.

of siglit. To such a scene in good weather, as
we have had, there is but one paf.^e. l^ut those
of us, who are strangers here, feU that we were
entering a region remote from civihzation, and
but little marked with the traces of human
enterprize. Since we approached the northern
shores of this lake and entered the straits, no
pictures of romance could divide us farther from
accustomed scenes and associations. The great
Maniton, or iSyj/'/vV-island — in Indian tradition
and belief the home and residence of spirits —
lifted up a prominence in its centre, which might
well pass among heathen, as a sanctuary of the
gods. And so is it esteemed. Next the little
Maniton — VirvA then the Drummond Isle — on the
last of which and near the straits, as we ap-
proached, was distinctly brought under our eye,
through a beautiful harbour, and within one mile
of our course, a fort and little village, erected by
and formerly belonging to the British, apparently
well built ; — but now without a solitary human
being, since, by the recent demarcation of the
boundary line, the island has fallen within the
jurisdiction of the United States. A deserted
village, in this uniidiabited region, was a melan-
choly spectacle — and resting, as it does, in such
a beautiful spot! It really looked covetable —
like a little paradise, peeping out upon the sea.

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mi: MO RAN DA

by tlie ))')int of himl, wliicli dcfcMuls tlic liarbour,
skirted by a lovely fores t-seene, and spreading its
fair bosom to the heavens, seems to invite those,
who may be tired of the world, to its enchantin*^
retreat. I cannot imagine, how it should be left
unoccupied ; and I can hardly yet i>ersuade
myself, that such is the fact. I strained my eyes
through the glass, as we passed, to see the busy
population ; but no human form appeared.
And thus I thought it nuist be a fairy creation,
in kindness laid before our eye, to relieve us for
a moment, from the monotony of these desolate
abodes ; — for we had seen nothing like the feature
of an inhabited world, since we left Fort Gratiot,
except a solitary sail, far oil' on the bosom of the
lake ; — but the melancholy eflect upon my own
feelings, wlicn I was obliged to believe, that no
man, or woman, or child was there — none of
human kind to enjoy the apparent desirableness
of the place — will not allow me to appreciate the
favour intended. And the lusits nnturcu of all
the regions we have passed, within a few hours,
from that point, till we came to anchor this even-
ing— the veriest sportings of nature, in her most
fantastic creations of islets, and bays, and straits;
the former springing up and the latter opening
in every du'ection ; accompanied with the thought,
that nowhere amons them all rests the habitation

or i.AKi: in RON.

-.)t

of civilized man, or is often foniul tlic track of
tlic sava'^^e ; — these all made fancy more vivid,
romance more romantic, and the very wiidness of
nature more \vild. We also ])nssed the ruins of
another fort, on the island of St. Joseph, a
valuahle and hcautiful territory, twenty miles by
ten, liflim;- u}) a mountain in its centre, and said
to embosom a mine of silver, known only to
an Indian, whose* fruardian spirit will not permit
cither himself, or others, to reaj) the advantages
of the disclosure. This island, formerly be-
longin<x to the United States" has, by the recent
settlement of the boundary line, fallen to the
British CJovernment, in exchange, we may sup-
pose, for Drunmiond's Isle.

On turning an island of some two or three
miles in extent this afternoon— (for since we
entered the straits, we have been penetrating the
vast cluster of islands, with whicli the northern
parts of Huron are sprinkled, of such various
dimensions, that some of the smallest, crowned
with trees and shrubbery, have reminded nic of
the tuft of feathers in the peacock's head, and
they are scarcely less beautiful) — on turning this
island, and running into a bay of some several
miles in diameter, we suddenly met an Indian
canoe, of great beauty, its sides and many paddles
glaring with various and rich colours, propelled

■1 i '

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■ ■ • •* .

■1\

THE INDIAN CANOE.

: ^\^

by ci^rlit Indians, dressed in a sin<(uliirly fraudy

et unilbrni

nans
costume

; — who bore down

upon us

with aj)j)art'nt intent of speaking. But our canoe,
not resj)()nding witli a favourable disposition to
their signs, but dashing forward with unbending
course, the Indians suddenly lifted their paddles
from the water, and sat down. When lo ! a
white man, well dressed, stood up in the middle
of the bark, uncovered, and made obeisance.
We all responded. But the distance was too
great to hold a conversation. Our captain,
knowing his time was precious, to accomplish
the object of the day — that is, to get to the Falls,
which after all we have not reached — and being
more accustomed to such sights than we, did not
show himself inclined to gratify our curiosity, in
coming to an interview. Whereupon, as the
gentleman in the canoe found he could not speak
us, he resumed his sitting out of our sight ; and
the Indians, rising to their paddles, gave one
tremendous and frightful yell, resounding through
all the bay, and sending back its echoes from the
hills; — and then to a time-keeping song, they
sprung away, as if in challenge, for a trial of
speed with us, and darted off for the gi*eat lake,
with a celerity, for which we all agreed to award
them the victory ; — and in a few moments they
turned an island, and were out of sight. This

THF, INDIAN CANOE.

imexpcctcd and novel exhibition tlu'ew us all
into an ocstacy of admiration. The sinfrular
costume of the Indians, with many and various
coloMred feathers, bendin;^' and waving on their
heads ; the excjuisite beauty of their canoe ; their
paddles of the most *rlaring red, so far •is they arc
immersed ; the perfect time and admirable exacti-
tude of their ipovements, as if they and their bark
were only so many parts of a piece of mechanism,
and the amazing celerity, with which they seemed
to fly over the tops of the waves ; — absolutely
confounded all the ideas I liad ever indulged of
the Indian's skill and dexterity in this exercise.

I would here remark, that tliis canoe had
been charted, as was afterwards learned, by the
gentleman passenger before noticed, to take him
from the Falls of St. Mary to Mackinaw, a dis-
tance of an hundred miles, the half of which is
over the open sea of Huron. This mode of tra-
velling in the North-West, resorted to by neces-
sity, is not only a substitute for stage-coaches
and steam-boats, but is scarcely less expeditious,
when the canoe is manned and propelled by
a select corps of Indians.

Our passage this afternoon has ])een pic-
turesque and interesting, especially when allied
to its associations, beyond my powers to de-
scribe. The scenery in itself stands unrivalled,

■'jt

PICTURESQUE SCENERY.

M i

by anything I have ever seen, or conceived, for
its variety, and wildness, and beauty. And
then it is to be observed, that scarcely a trace
of man is left imprinted here, except rarely,
upon the shores, may be found the marks of
a transient Indian encampment ; — that the
forests are so dark and thick, that the wild
buck, with his branching horns, cannot run
amono" them: --that ihe trees and shrubberv are
of a character peculiar to the climate ; — and that
innumerable firs may be seen shooting up their
conical tops, over the rest of the forest, not
inferior, in the exactitude and symmetry of their
proportion, to the most beautiful spire of a church.
And the frequent islands, together with the straits
and bays, which they necessarily create, would
utterly defy any but an experienced pilot, with
his compass, to make his way from Lake Huron
to Lake Superior. Often we have seemed to be
running directly on the shore ; when in an
instant some channel, darkened by the over-
hanging wood, opened and invited us to enter,
as the only way of egress. And then again a
half-dozen chr.inels offer themselves, each per-
haps equally attractive, and confounding choice.
And their serpentine course, and the abruptness
of their angles, after once the right one is selected,
by dodging die islands and sliooting across the

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■■>,

INDIAN LODGES.

nee.

mess

lied,

the

bays ; — the aUernate expansions and contractions,
foi ming successively small basins and narrows ; —
contribute equally to amaze and delight the
unexpecting voyager. Hills and mountains too, in
every shape — not even the likeness of which pre-
sents itself on any shore of the lakes between this
region and Buffalo — here lift themselves up in
near and distant vision, one above another, restoring
the long-lost charm of such a scene, and making
the accustomed tenant of the hills at home again.

The chapter of incidents also gave additional
variety and interest to this new and rapidly shift-
ing scene. On turning one of those sharp angles,
about twenty miles above the point, vt^here we
first entered these straits, some lodges of Indians,
as they are called, perched in the bushes on the
bank, opened upon us, being recognised by the
reflection of white birch bark, with which they
are covered. These lodges, are made as light,
and are as soon taken down and removed, as a
soldier's camp tent. x\nd they are the only habi-
tations of the wild Indians, in their migratory
enterprises of war, hunting, and fishing. In
these regions, indeed, they have little else to
shelter them, either in winter, or summer. The
waU of the lodge, is a sort of mat, or woven tex-
ture of the wild rice stalk, found growing in
shallow waters ; and which, after being shaken

VOL. I. E

. I

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of its fr

INDIAN LODGES.

s into a floating canoe, for food, is
pulled up and manufactured into this useful
article, serving, like the Turk's rug, for bed and
chair, to the more luxurious ; and also for a part
of the lodge, or house, by being drawn, itself
erect, in a circle of some ten, or fifteen feet in
diameter, according to the extent of the house-
hold to be accommodated ; — the whole being
capped with pieces of birch bark to turn the
rain ; in the apex of which, ordinarily from six
to ten feet in elevation, is left a small aperture
for the escape of the smoke. The Indians here,
depending more upon fish, than upon the chase,
make these slender encampments immediately
upon the margin of the waters, each consisting
generally, in times of peace, of a group oi a few
families, with one canoe, or two, for each house-
hold, according to its number. At a few minutes'
notice, whether started by alarm, or actuated by
motives of change, the whole encampment, with
all their furniture, may be seen afloat, and dart-
ing of! for some new retreat. The enjampment
is again established, with the same dispat':h,
as that, which characterised its breaking up; —
and they are all at home again, with their canoes
drawn ashore, and turned bottom upwards ; and
the smoke is seen, emitting its lazy currents from
their newly-erected lodges.

c
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s

p-i\ 'ill
1 .* u

DEXTERITY OF THE INDIAN.

ith
rt-

One of these encampments suddenly burst
upon us, as we made a turning this afternoon.
Immediately a canoe, filled with these sons
of the forest — and it might be added, the lords
of these wild waters — with rifles in hand,
launched from the shore, in our advance, and
bore down upon us. And what was amusing,
the American ensign floated over it, though
somewhat smoked and rent by use, or abuse.
This was an indication, that a chief was on board
of the canoe, as men of this rank in the Tribes
within the jurisdiction of the United States,
are often presented with a governmpnt flag.
On the Canadian frontier they are not unfre-
quently able to display the flag of either nation,
Great Britain, or the States, as may suit their
purposes. Instantly, as they shot from the
shore, a.Jeu dejoie saluted us; and the channel,
pent up by the dark forests, echoed as briskly
with the popping of their rifles, as if they had
been engaged in a running fight. They seemed
to paddle with one hand, and load and fire with
the Other ; and in such rapid succession, that no
Yankee could equal them, even with both hands.
But with all their eagerness and noise, they
could not bring our captain to speak. Whether
he doubted their intent, and was afraid of being
shot, I cannot tell. Perceiving the captain's

E 2

'If

41''

■I

I".:

■I

PADDLE QUICKER THAN STEAM.

incivility, and themselves fast dropping astern of
us in consequence, down went their rifles into
the bottom of the canoe, and both hands of every
Indian being applied to the paddles, they seemed
resolved on overtaking us : and so indeed they
did, deciding the question at once, that the
Indian paddle is swifter than steam. As a
reward for this extraordinary feat, — they seeming
no wise unfriendly in their dispositions, but
making all signs of good feeling, laughing, and
rattling off with indescribable volubility their
unintelligible jargon — we threw them a tow-line,
and having caught it, they immediately dropped
under our stern ; — and in this relation we held
a long parley with them, by means of an inter-
preter on board our vessel, ascertaining them to
be of the Chippewa tribe, and possessing our-
selves of sundry items of information, which they
were able to communicate, and which we were
curious and much gratified to know. Some of
our passengers, delighted with such a visit, threw
them some pieces of money ; and the scramble,
which ensued in the canoe, plainly proved, that
however perfect their unsophisticated society may
be, they had not yet arrived to the happy con-
dition of holding all things common. The amuse-
ment, which this strife occasioned, turned out to
the no small profit of the Indians. For a shower

LOVE OF MONEY AND WHISKEY.

of copper and silver coin poured into the canoe,
till they all had busy work in picking it up.
And when, perchance, a white piece fell into the
water — (as some of them did) — alas ! what a
grave countenance the poor Indians put on, and
smote their hands in agony, and looked up, as if
they were about to expire with regret. The
rattling of another piece of coin in the bottom of
their canoe would bring them to their senses
again, and renew the squabble. When, how-
ever, the purse was satisfied, in rendering its
contents, a bottle of whiskey, with a cord to its
neck, was lowered to the eager grasp of these
tawney and simple folk. But not being inclined
to drink it on the spot, how should they dispose
of it, and return the bottle, which for some reason
was not offered them. It was a decanter, I
believe, belonging to the steward. Necessity
being the mother of invention, a smoked tin
kettle, of some gallons' capacity, used for cooking
over their fires, yet having been well cleaned by
the tongue of the dogs, the common way of per-
forming this office — was snatched up from the
bottom of the canoe for the occasion, and received
the contents. The bottle was returned, and
filled, and sent down again, a plural num er of
times ; till, I am sorry to say, they had got
enough, in their capacious vessel, to make the

'!'!.

ft ■

•■ f.

I «■;

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AN INDIAN SALUTE.

\\i'

whole camp drunk — and which will probably
occasion a famous pow-woWf or Indian carousal.
After our guests had been kept in tow long
enough to satisfy curiosity, and to enrich them
by these bounteous gifts, we let them drop, and
they returned to their lodges.

A few miles above at another turning, another
Indian camp, and much larger than the last,
opened upon us, showing an extended cluster of
lodges, on the shore ; and numerous canoes
drawn up in the usual style. As they were un-
apprised of our coming, they seemed utterly
amazed — and men, women, and children ran
about, and the dogs barked, as if confusion and
war had come upon them. Immediately the men
darted from their lodges, with rifle in hand, while
the women and children launched the canoes;
and in the shortest imaginable space we were
right on the shore, within thirty feet of this
strange assemblage of human beings ; — and pop
— pop — pop — went their rifles, directly at us, in
a quick and furious volley, as if they would shoot
every one of us from the deck. I am sure for
one, I started back, contracted myself within the
smallest possible dimensions, and dodged a little.
And I dare to say, I was not alone in these sen-
sations. To be thus saluted, by such uncertain
beings, having nothing to defend us, was not

RUNNING AGROUND.

altogether welcome. Even if their rifles had
nothing in them more solid, the very wadding
might have come in our faces. No one, how-
ever, was killed; and it proved to be a mere
feu dejcie, to express how glad they were to see
us. Ours is only the third Steam-packet, that
has ever penetrated this region ; and this parti-
cular group of Indians probably never saw one
before. We soon ran by them ; but had not
passed out of sight, before we plunged upon a
sand-bar. This accident gave them an oppor-
tunity to fill their canoes, and come along side,
and offer their assistance and hospitality : the
manner of which was certainly very grateful,
although the things offered were not very va-
luable. While we were engaged in working
off the vessel, which occupied .n hour, they
amused us greatly by their talk and manners,
and received, like our other guests, no trifling
donations from the passengers — not trifling to
them. Through ignorance of these channels, we
have run aground some half-dozen times, and
being overtaken by night, in this wild and dark
retreat, under the very boughs of the forest, we
are compelled to lie at anchor, and wait for day-
light— within five miles of our place of destina-
tion : — the Saiit de St. Marie,

I ■{'

■ 1 ■

CHAPTER X.

THE SAUT DE ST. MARIE, &c.

The Saut de St, Marie, it may be understood,
is the name given by the French traders to the
Falls, or rapids, which let the waters of Lake
Superior down to the level of Lake Huron.
Anglice: the Falls, or jump, or bound of St.
Mary — or by personification, St. Mary's leap
down from her dominion over the waters above
to assert her empire over the waters below.
Whether I have got the exact clue to the
imagination of the French Catholics, in their
application of this name, and am right in my
interpretation, I am not quite sure. But this
has seemed to me most natural. The Falls them-
selves are as lovely and as gentle, (shall I say ?) as
the sudden rush of such a tremendous flood, down
an equable descent of twenty-two feet in a mile,
can well be imagined ; and if the Spirit of the
Tempest and of the Furies might be supposed

ORIGIN OF THE NAME.

to preside over Niagara's thundering Cataract,
the imagination of a CathoHc might well be
allowed to instal the Holy Virgin over the rapids,
which are honoured by her name — especially, as
taking up his own residence there, he might more
conveniently invoke and secure her protection
and blessing. But he must needs have some-
thing for her to do — she must be occupied.
Why, then, say : these Falls are St. Mary — and
their roaring is her voice ; and when he should
stand in need of her assistance, he was sure to
find her there. Hence : the Saut de St. Marie.
On the occasion of the incident before narrated,
of meeting the gallant Indian canoe, propelled by
eight men, and in such display of their grotesque
and glittering paraphernalia, shooting over the
tops of the waves, and scarcely touching them, I
happened to be in conversation, on the deck of
the steamer, with a young lady, a native of the
Saut de St. Maries whose father was a Scotch-
man, or Scotch- Irish, and her mother pn Indian.
She was well educated, and was on her return
home from a visit at Detroit. She was even
highly accomplished, and had been used to the
best society. Any common reader of the emotions,
passing in the mind, would have seen, that when
this canoe first hove in sight, this young lady's
feelings were in a lively and agreeable excitement.

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INDIAN YOUNG WOMAN.

The hands and arms of an infant child would not
have been opened and spread out with more
expressive welcome, nor would his eyes have
sparkled with more vivacity, at the sudden ap-
pearance of a loved object, that had been too
long out of sight for his happiness, than hers,
at the sight of this Indian canoe. It was the
genuine, simple eloquence of nature, which opened
the heart ; on the bright page of which, sparkling
with satisfaction, might oe read without the pos-
sibility of mistake : * I am glad. This is home.
That canoe was launched from before my mother's
door this morning. I know what it is — and who
they are. That has been the delight of my
youth — the familiar object of my childhood — it
was the wonder of my infancy — and I shall be
where it came from to-night.'

The sudden betray' ^^g of these emotions was
so artless, as to be unavoidable. She seemed
conscious, that her feelings were partly betrayed,
and made a slight effort to check and conceal
them. But I encouraged the developeraent — for
nothing could have delighted me more, or given
me a higher opinion of her character; and she
in turn very frankly confessed her partialities for
these objects, which connected her with home.
While the canoe approached ; and while it
rested over against us; and when it darted off

•»'i

WHAT IS HOME?

and disappeared, as before described ; the whole
scene gave new being io her affections, roused
the lurking and dormant sensibilities, which are
naturally challenged by such an incident; and
they were played off without restraint, and in
such a style, as no one could fail to admire.

When I saw the next day, at the romantir "aul
wild retreat of the Saut de St. Marie, the humble
cabin, where the infancy of this young lady had
been cradled, and where her earliest years had
been spent — I could but exclaim : — What is
home ? An accident ; the creature of wonted
circumstances — of early and habitual associations ;
it is not a place, but a mysterious centre of the
affections, produced by these casualties. It may
be any where — on any spot of earth ; it may be
floating on the deep, and never at rest ; it may
be in heaven, and ought to be there.

But this was not all. When the other canoe came
in our wake, and hung behind us on the tow-line,
this young lady being our interpreter — my atten-
tion was forcibly arrested during these interviews,
at the moral power of the Indian language, and
of the conversations of Indians with each other ;
which I have often had occasion since to remark
in other circumstances. The dependent condi-
tion of the American Aborigines on each other
for comfort and happiness, and as they religiously

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PECULIAR AND MORAL POWER

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suppose, on the high Providence above, whom
they call the Great Spirit, for the supply of their
necessities — (for themselves are always improvi-
dent and frequently in want) — has imparted to
their language, or manner of speaking, aii inde-
scribable softness and tenderness. It is a sweet
and perfect melody. As they never think, or talk
abstrusely, nor task their minds with concatena-
tions of logic, but speak for present convenience
and gratification ; — and as they need and love
kindness, their language is the very expression
of kindness. Their dependent, child-like feelings,
a moral cause, have produced a physical effect in
the structure and use of the common medium of
communication between man and man. The
entire character of the Indian's voice, in conver-
sation, is altogether peculiar — and that character
is always of an affectionate, tender, and depen-
dent cast. It proceeds from tender feeling — and
challenges and awakens the like affections. It
has that power, and will produce that effect, when
not one word of the language is understood.
And it is especially remarkable, that when Indians
have acquired an European language, and while
conversing in it, they use a voice characteristically
and entirely different from that, which they em-
ploy in their own tongue. Neither are they
themselves aware of the fact. I once called the

OP INDIAN LANGUAGES.

attention of a circle of Indian chiefs to this cir-
cumstance, most of whom could speak English.
At the moment, we were all speaking English.
Soon after, for their own convenience, they broke
into their own language. " There^' said I — "do
you see ? " — they proceeded, with their attention
thus challenged and directed — and the next
moment, all of them burst into a loud laugh,
expressive of their own astonishment at the dis-
covery. They never knew it before.

So when this canoe came under our stern, the
first salutation between this young lady and the
crew, struck me with this remarkable fact ; and
the protracted conversation between the parties,
was very music itself. On the announcement of
every piece of news, or the starting of a new
thought, the listener, in Indian dialogue, receives
it with an — Rh^ (Is it so?) — partly nasal, and
partly ringing so mellifluously in the chambers
oi the mouth, by an ascending and circumflex
intonation, falling at last into a sweet and ex-
piring cadence — that the stranger hangs upon it,
as upon the dying notes of the sweetest melodies —
and holds his own breath in the suspense of
regret, and almost involuntarily sighs, when the
last palpable sound has died upon the ear. It
cannot be imitated — it cannot be described. One
must have heard it, to know it ; and to have

■ I

PECULIAR AND MORAL POWER

heard it with attention, is never to forget it. It
is altogether of a moral character. It expresses
pohteness, in all its scope; a thorough reciproca-
tion of the sentiment ; thankfulness for the news,
or suggestion ; entire confidence in the person
speaking ; and a complete and unreserved repose
of all the tender feelings on the second person of
the dialogue : ^^ Eh? Eh. Is it so? It is so.
Indeed? Indeed.'^ And I have only been con-
firmed in these peculiar attributes of Indian lan-
guages, by subsequent observation. The women,
indeed, have softer and more melodious voices,
than the men, as among all nations — and they
give far better effect to these peculiarities. But
the voices of the men, in their own tongue, are
no less characteristically diverse in this particular.
An Indian dialogue, (and among themselves
there is no people more sociable) in connexion
with the melody of their voice, and the tenderness
of the mtonations and inflexions of their speecl^,
is one of the finest scenes of the kind in the
world. And the specimens, now under review,
were peculiarly attractive and greatly eloquent,
in consideration of the circumstances, and of the
dramatis personce. The canoes, which came
along side of the steamer, while lying on sand
bars and at anchor, before her arrival at the Sautf
vere numerous ; — and this young lady was the

OF INDIAN LANGUAGES.

interpreter, and the cn'y colloquist on one side.
She^ cultivated and accomplished, and well
dressed, — bending over the side of the vessel,
to welcome and receive the welcomes of this
simple and untaught people; — and theiji mani-
festing the most evident satisfaction, on her
return among them ; and thus demonstrating, how
much she had made herself, by her winning
condescensions, the idol of a people, whom she
was not ashamed to call her own. They sremecl
delighted, and overjoyed to hear the sound of her
voice. They literally opened their mouths and
swallowed her words ; and the muscles of their
countenance might be seen working with the
workings of their thoughts, as they hung upon
her lips. And she in turn listened to their com-
munications with reciprocal satisfaction — each
party, as they were alternate listeners, responding
to every thought, in the utterance of their own
indescribable: — Eh ? And the effect of thii ex-
pression is not unlike the second to an air in a
piece of music : — it is an exquisite and harmo-
nious accompaniment. It sets and keeps the
affections of all the parties in tune.

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CHAPTER XI.

VOYAGE FROM THE SAUT DE ST. MARIE TO
GREEN BAY, &o.

The next day was occupied in the disembar-
cation of a second* detachment of the troops, at
the garrison of the Saut, and 5m the transaction
of other business appertaining to the vessel ;
while a small party went up to take a peep at
the opening bosom of Lake Superior, a few miles
above ; and another was entertained at dinner in
the hospitable mansion, which made the home of
the young lady above-mentioned. To sit down
at a table, spread with furniture, and burdened
with viands and wines, not unbefitting the me-
tropolis of a civilized community, with a pure
Indian woman, acting as mistress of ceremonies,
who did not venture to speak a word of the ver-
nacular tongue of her guests, that office being
supplied by her son-in-law, at the other end, and
by her children around her : — and the scene laid

■ ■!

• One detachment had been left at Fort Gratiot.

■••'-'J

THE THIRTY-TWO THOUSAND ISLANDS. 89

in that remote region — was an interesting occa-
sion, as may well be supposed. The dinner was
necessarily early and hasty, as the vessel was to
leave in the afternoon to retrace her path, as far
as the northern border of Huron, to clear the
islands, if possible, before night, on her way to
Mackinaw; — which was accomplished, with no
remarkable incident, except, that, while passing
rapidly down a current, in the midst of a granice
region, and under the full power of steam, the
packet rubbed fearfully on the point of a rock.
If the vessel had drawn six inches more, she
must inevitably have been stove and lost, though
not probably with the peril of life, as the shore
was within the toss of a stone, and the packet
furnished with boats. But it would at least
have been unpleasant for such a host of pas-
sengers to be left, shipwrecked, in such a wild
region.

It was on the passage from the SatU to
Mackinaw, that the question of the thirty-two
thousand islands, on the northern and eastern
margin of Lake Huron, was agitated. It was

stated by one of the passengers, that Mr. ,

who ought to know, had affirmed it. Indeed
several witnesses testified to the fact. And if
so, incredible as it might seem, the reputation of
that gentleman for accurate knowledge, and his

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90 THE THIRTY-TWO THOUSAND ISLANDS.

opportunities of information, were entitled to
settle the question. I, however, observed, that,
in my own opinion, thirty -two hundred was
quite enough ; and that there must be a mistake.
Indeed I observed, that I could hardly believe
there were thirtihtwo thousand islands, in all
the waters of the continent of America. From
an independent and unquestionable source of
evidence, however, I was afterwards obliged to
admit the fact. The record, as was affirmed,
was attested from the surveys, made by the joint
Board of Commissioners of Great Britain and
the United States, appointed to settle the boun-
dary line of their contiguous jurisdictions.* And
the region, through which the common charts
have drawn the channel of St. Mary's river, forms
a portion of these islands — reducing that strait
to twenty-five miles in length — ten miles below
and fifteen miles above the rapids, or falls. The
falls, it may be observed, are run with safety by
canoes, and have been run by a small vessel.

The Si,. Mary's river forms three channels
a little below the falls, and consequently two

* After all I confess it seems to me an incredible statement.
That a vast group of islands have long time been observed to
lie in that quarter, is evident from the fact, that the ordinary
charts are densely spotted to represent them, where the follow-
ing inscription staads: " The Thousand Islands.'^

,.14

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THE SCENERY THEY CREATE.

considerable islands, besides many smaller ones,
for the distance of fifteen to twenty miles ; — and
thence to Lake Huron, especially towards the
east, are parts of the immense group. It is
impossible for any thing, but actual observation,
to estimate the unnumbered beauties, created by
these sports of nature. I regretted exceedingly
not to have been indulged with a stay at the
Saut, long enough to have made an excursion by
a canoe into Lake Superior. Some half dozen
of our passengers, by a bold and determined
push, and at the hazard of being left behind,
lan up and cast a couji d'ceil upon the face of
those interesting waters. They saw the Queen
of Lakes, which, indeed, was worth the efFori.
The rest of us contented ourselves with proving,
that the Lake commences at the head of the
rapids, and having been there, that we saw it too.
At break of day, on Sunday morning, the 8th
of August, after sailing all night upon the bosom
of Lake Huron, and from the entrance of the
straits of St. Mary, the island of Mackinaw, the
snow-white fort upon its rocky summit, and the
beautiful town below, adorned with a Christian
church, lifting up its steeple, opened upon us
with a fine and most welcome display ; — and at
sunrise we lay still in the clear waters of its cres-
cent harbour, directly under the guns of the fort.

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MICHILLIMACKINACK.

If Quebec is the Gibraltar of North America,
Mackinaw is only second in its physical cha-
racter, and in its susceptibilities of improvement,
as a military post. It is also a most important
position for the facilities it affords, in the fur-
trade, between New York and the North-West.
From this point, the bateaux of the traders,
boats of fifteen tons, go annually in the autumn
to the most distant shores of Lake Superior, in
one direction ; and to the upper regions of the
Mississippi in another, laden with provisions,
blankets and ammunition, and other articles of
merchandize, to give the In-^ians in exchange
for furs; — and return to Mackinaw in the spring,
where these furs are shipped for New York, by
way of Buffalo. Mackinaw is used merely, as a
frontier garrison, and a trading post ; and has a
population of 600 to 700. It is a beautiful
island, or great rock, planted in the strait of the
same name, which forms the connexion between
Lakes Huron and Michigan. The meaning of
the Indian name — Michillimackini'ck — is a great
turtle. The island is crowned with a cap 300
feet above the surrounding waters, on the top of
which is a fortification, but not in keeping. The
principal fort, and the one kept in order and
garrisoned, rests upon the brow of the rocky
summit, 150 feet below the crown, or cap, and

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DESCRIPTION OF IT.

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tlie same number of feet above the water ; and in
such relation to the semicircular harbour, as to
command it perfectly, together with the opposite
strait. The harbour forms an exact crescent, the
tips of its horns being about one mile asunder.
The town itself, for the most part, lies imme-
diately on the crescent, near the water's edge,
and under the towering rock, which sustains the
fort above. The harbour, town, and fort look
with open and cheerful aspect towards the Huron
waters, south-east, inviting or frowning, accord-
ing as they are approached by friend or foe.
The island of Mackinaw is nearly all covered
with forests of slender growth. The shores
and beach are composed of small pebbles and
gravel, without a single particle of pulverized
substance to cloud the transparent waters, which
dash upon them. So clear are the waters
of these Lakes, that a white napkin, tied to a
lead, and sunk thirty fathoms beneath a smooth
surface, may be seen as distinctly, as when im-
mersed three feet. The fish may be seen, play-
ing in the waters, over the sides of the various
craft, lying in the harbours.

There are two objects of natural curiosity at
Mackinaw, worthy of notice : the arched rock
and sugar-loaf. The latter is a cone of solid
rock (and when seen from one direction, it has

1 1

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SUGAR-LOAF AND ARCHED ROCK.

the exact form of the loaf, aftci- which it is
named) lifting itself about 100 feet above the
plain, in the heart, and on the summit of the
island, with a base of fifty feet. Some trees and
shrubbery shoot out from its sides and crevices,
in defiance of the lack of soil.

As to the arched rock: suppose a perpen-
dicular shore of rock, 250 feet high, on the
margin of the sea — from the brow of which, in
retreat, lies a romantic broken ground, and an
almost impervious thicket. Then suppose a notch
were scolloped out of the edge, extending back
about thirty feet, and down the precipice about
one hundred, measuring across the supposed
broken edge, fifty feet. Suppose, however, a
string of the rocky edge, three feet in diameter,
still to remain, stretching across this chasm, in
the form of an arch, smallest in the centre, and
increasing somewhat in its dimensions towards
either of its natural abutments : — and this is the
picture of the Arched Rock of Mackinaw. From
the giddy summit above, the spectator looks
down upon the Lake beneath the arch, which
has the appearance of an immense gate -way,
erected from the delineations of art. Or, from
the bosom of the waters below, he looks up, as
to the gate of heaven, inviting him to the celes-
tial regions ; and it is even possible for him to

» *

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ARRIVAL AT GREEN BAY.

get lip; — and then to get down again, beneath
the arch ; — but it is a giddy task. And it is a
still more perilous piece of sport to walk across
the arch itself — and yet it has been done, not
only by men of nerve, but by boys in their play.
In descending near the base of this arch on the
right, is a natural tunnel, six feet in diameter,
running down some rods through the solid rock,
letting out the passengers on the shore below, or
by which they may ascend, if they prefer it, to
the broad highway under the arch. But in
ascending or descending this grand and perilous
steep, the adventurer must hug the pointed rocks
with the most tenacious adherence, or be precipi-
tated and dashed in pieces at the bottom. These
two objects are interesting and magnificent speci-
mens of nature's masonry.

From Mackinaw to the mouth of Fox river, in
the North- West Territory, the place of destina-
tion— and which is commonly called Green Bay^
after the body of water, at the head of which it
stands — our course was south-west, across Lake
Michigan, and up the Bay — the whole distance
being about 200 miles. We cast anchor in Fox
river, opposite the village, or settlement of Green
Bay, on the morning of the 10th of August.

>^Vit

1 M't'

CHAPTER XII.

THE INDIAN TRIBES, THEIR POLITICAL
RELATIONS, &c.

Before we introduce the particular business,
intrusted to the Commission, sent to Green Bt v,
in 1830 ; and in whose company I happened to
be, in tlieir voyage through the Lakes ; it will be
quite necessary to the reader's clear understand-
ing c** the general and future current of our
story — that I should summon his attention to a
few remarks on the present condition and poli-
tical relations of the Indian Tribes, compreh^^nded
within the jurisdiction of the United States; and
to the treatment they have generally received,
since the occupation of North America by the
descendants of Europeans.

Just at present, however, I have more especially
in view the condition and relations of the Indian
Tribes of the State of New York ; although I
shall hereafter have occasion to extend my views,
by more particular observations, not only of all

.'II

OSTENSIBLE UISPECT TO INDIAN RKUITS.

J)7

the Indians within the ten-itorics of tlie United
States; but of those also, who fall under the
jurisdiction of the government of (Jreat Britain,
in the Canadas.

It is sufficient for the present, to remark : —
that although there has generally been an
ostensible respect paid by Europeans, in their
occupancy and gradual encroachments on the
territories of North America, to the territorial
rights of the aboriginal Tribes, by holding
public councils with them, and formally nego-
tiating for such of their lands, as have not been
acquired by force and conquest; — yet it is a
dishonourable truth, not difficult of being made
out, that the superior capacity of Europeans, in
bargaining and over-reaching, has almost u li-
forndy characterized their pretended and formal
purchases. The Indians have always been and
are now childlike and simple, and from their
habitual and total desuetude of the commercial
arts, are ever open to commercial impositions.
It is well known, that they have been accustomed
to resign, by solemn compact, the most valuable
and most extensive territories, for mere toys — or
for the most trifling considerations. I am aware
it may be and is said, that an adequate and fair
value rendered, would be of no use to them —
that in many, perhaps, in most cases, when

VOL. I. F

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US THEIR RIGHTS REALLY NOT RESPECTED.

inonoy is put to their disposal, it would ever be
prejudiciiil to their moral, and thus to their

•litical interests. And for tli

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tliere niin;nt be some apolojjry, if the parental
guardianship, at first arrogated, were well and
conscientiously sustained throughout. But the
misfortune and the crime — is — that a bargain is
held as a bargain, with Indians, as with all other
nations. The rapid growth and rising prosperity
of European colonies in America, and their
political and social interests have operated to
induce them to forget their parental and moral
obligations to the Aborigines. The fact has
uniformly been : — that when they have failed to
provoke hostilities, and thus to acquire the
opportunity of conquest, they have negotiated
away the lands of the natives, for the most
trifling considerations ; until only a few and
small patches are left, that tl^v can call
their own, within the territories settled by the
whites ; and the ultimate possession of those
small tracts is already anticipated by those who
covet them.

It may be observed respecting the Indians,
who fall within the jurisdiction of the United
States, that for the most part, the national
government asserts the sole right of negociating
for their lands. It has happened, however, that

THE PRE-EMPTION KIGIIT.

91)

the lands bclonfjing to the smaller tribes of the
northern and eastern States, and constMiucntly
their political existence and relations, have lonu;
since fallen under the control of the State
governments, within whose limits they are found.
It had also happened, before the ri<(hts ot
Indians had been so thoroujfhly discussed, that
the pie-eviption right of the individual State>
thus concerned, was transferred, or negotiated
for valuable considerations to rich capitalists,
now corporate companies, and thus converted
into a stock, the value of which in the market
depends entirely upon the nearer or more remote
prospects of the removal of the Indians — in
other words, of their ejectment. Of course it
becomes the interest of these stock-holders, or
pre-emption right companies, to use all possible
means of accomplishing the end they have in
view ; and from the almost incalculable increase
of the value of the stock, they can well aflbrd
to be at any expense, that may be necessary.
And the actual expense, having been hithert(»
successful, still multiplies the value of the
investments to an indefinite amount. I cannot
venture to specify the amount of increase in th(
value of this stock, having no certain data, i>\n)
that it has been immense on the original fund :
which, in the first instance, was a loan to thc^

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THE OPFRAiION 01

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State, the history of whicli, in its successive
changes, I am not able to trace. Tiie Indian
huids, thus subjected to the speculations of land-
jobbers, have risen in value to an amount that
cannot be told, by the increase of the wliite popu-
lation with which they are surrounded. This
peculiar condition of Indian rights is more par-
ticularly applicable to the State of New ^'ork,
although it is virtually the same thing, when
the right of pre-emption is in the government,
only that the government, having a higher re-
sponsibility, is likely to be more honourable
in its course of negotiation.

It is due to the State of New York to say,
that in the original negotiations, by which this
exclusive right of purchasing Indian lands was
resigned to these capitalists, the present operation
of it to the disadvantage of the Indians was not
anticipated.

It may be imagined, however, that the many
causes operating upon these Indians to constrain
their removal are accidentally thrown very much
under the control of those who are interested;
and that, when they are obliged to go, as soon
they must, — and many of them have already
gone, as will yet be seen, — they have no power
to bring their lands into an open market, but
are compelled to accept of a price, which may

THE PRE-EMPTION IlICillT.

101

satisfy the cupidity of the pre-emption right
companies — which is a very trifling fraction of
their real value at the moment. It is said,
indeed, that the Indians are not forced away —
that their removal is voluntary. So far as the
technicalities of legcd compulsion are concerned,
this may be true ; but they are moraUf/ com-
pelled ; the causes brought to act upon them
to induce this decision, are in fact irresistible.

As to the more numerous tribes of Indians,
inmiediately connected with the national govern-
ment of the United States, and who have larger
and more momentous interests at stake, we shall
by and by have occasion to notice more particu-
larly their relations and prospects. It may
in this place be observed generally, that the
original principles asserted and the practice pur-
sued by those European powers, who first laid
their claii .s and their hands upon the American
continent, and parcelled it out among themselves,
laid the foundation for all the misfortunes of the
American Aborigines. Their rights then were no
more regarded, than those of the brute creation ;
and the arrogance of those claims, and the con-
se(iuences resulting from them, will doubtless
become more and more the wonder of the world,
as society advances, and the rights of all men
shall be better defined. They actually formed

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102

THE FIRST CLAIMS 01'

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the basis and prescribed the modes of a new con-
stitution of society between emigrant Europeans
and the aboriginal Americans — a state of society
wliich has been in operation for ages, and the
unfortunate influence of which will extend for
ages yet to come, if it does not thoroughly and
for ever annihilate those numerous, interesting,
and in many respects noble and manly tribes,
whose origin and early history time nor chance
has yet unfolded. Society once constituted, on a
large and momentous scale, is not easily changed ;
and we shall yet have occasion to see, that even
the American republicans, in the face and in
direct contradiction of their own declared prin-
ciples, have entrenched themselves on this
original ground to defend their treatment of the
Indians. Like African slavery, entailed upon
them by the sins of former generations, they
have presumed to hold, by the law of prece-
dent and the right of prescription, the nobler
race of the red men of America, in a con-
dition of grievous disadvantage, and subjected
them to an unrelieved doom of the greatest in-
justice. They plead the high authority of long
established national law in relation to barbarians —
an apology, indeed, for want of a better reason,
but no justification. It was natural, that the treat-
ment originally instituted should continue ; the

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EUROPEANS A PRECEDENT.

103

relations first formed, for reasons of State, gra-
dually become subject to the inexorable laws
of State necessity. V/hat one generation had
done, another might think itself authorized, nay,
in a manner, might deem itself compelled, to
do. The injustice became incorporated with the
essential economy and with the ordinary admini-
stration of society. Like slavery it could never
find a remedy, except in the sacrifice of some
great interests, which had long enjoyed the right
of prescription ; and reformation, in the practical
application of political morality, it is too well
known, is but gradually and slowly attained, even
after a distinct and public recognition of better
principles has been long and universally made.
We shall see, that the American Indians are
e\ n yet treated most unjustly, and most incon-
sistently with recognized principles ; and while
we boldly assert the rightful claims of the
oppressed, it will be no more than fair to keep
constantly in view the ori(i;in and history of the
wrong, and the manner in which it has passed
from generation to generation.

Some recent measures of the American govern-
ment, in endeavouring to effect the removal of the
Indian tribes on the east of the Mississippi to
the west of it, have agitated the public mind in
that country to an unprecedented degree, and

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DECISION OF THE SUPREME

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occasioned the fullest and most public discussion
of Indian rights in every possible form ; and
although the Supreme Court of the United
States, the third and a co-ordinate branch of the
government, has finally settled the great prin-
ciples of the question to their own honour and to
the honour of the nation, and thus far made an
atonement to the injured and to the world lor a
practical course of injury, wliich, having passed
an important crisis, cannot be so easily arrested,
even with all the advantages of such a decision—
that decision is notwithstanding an event of the
greatest importance.* It will have its weight in
the nation, and its influence over the world. It
is of the highest possible authority, and may
fairly be quoted, as an expression of the public
opinion of the country, notwithstanding that the
accidental combination of certain political causes
has transiently sustained a course of administra-
tion opposed to it. And although it will be my
duty in these pages to expose the injuries done
to the American Indians, and to speak with great
freedom, as an impartial regard to the common
rights of man demands, I am proud to find my-
self sustained by the decisions of that venerable

* This decision may be found in the Appendix to the second
volume, and the subject treated at large in the text (»t' that
volume.

COURT or THE UNITED STATES.

10.5

tribunal. What would otliervvise be to the
dislionour of my country, and which can never
be concealed, I shall the less reluctantly handle,
being in such company. The acknowledgment,
and if possible, the confirmation of the rights of
American Aborigines, is a cause which belongs
to all nations; ^' is at least and practically a
common cause between the people of Great
Britain and the United States, as each of tliese
governments has nearly an equal number of
this race under its jurisdiction, and is necessarily
obliged to legislate for their weal, or woe. I
regard the decision of the Supreme Court of the
United States, as involving and settling prin-
ciples, from which neither of these two nations
can in sobriety and justice depart ; and while I
shall freely expose any violation of these prin-
ciples, that may come in my way, I consider, that
I am not only discharging a duty to a long
oppressed and injured people, but I am proud, in
being able to appeal to the above-named decision
of the American Supreme Court, the authority
and destined influence of which is at lc;ist as
much a subject of national triumpii, as the
heretofore injurious treatment done to the In-
dians, is a subject of regret — and but for thi.s
atonement, an occasion of shame, nay, in any
case, a shame.

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GRHAT BRITAIN AND THE

It liappens, as before suggested, that Great
Britain is involved in a like responsibility, in
regard to American Aborigines, as the govern-
ment of the United States, N'^t, that the
subject, in the hands of the British government,
is in the same shape ; but it is, at best, in a bad
shape. These two nations, which ought to
cherish the kindest feelings towards each other,
and which possess unrivalled powers to benefit
mankind, are alike and simultaneously responsible
for the exercise of a direct ameliorating influence,
by legislation and government, over two unfor-
tunate and depressed classes of the human race :
the Africans and An^erican Indians. The con-
dition of the former class, and the duties which
they may rightfully claim from these two Govern-
ments, I do not at present undertake to discuss.

It is sufficient for my present purpose, and per-
haps it may not be deemed improper to state the
fact: that, as the British territories, in North
America, are very extensive, and all of them
peopled by these tribes, they must be numerous ;
and many of them so remote in the western and
northern regions, that even a tolerably accurate
census has probably never yet been obtained.
Whether their numbers are equal to those within
the jiu'isdictionof the United States, is not mate-
rial. I would take liberty here to mention another

UNITED STATES BOTH CONCERNED.

101

thing, not because I am solicitous to bring the
British government into the same condenuia-
tion ; — but yet I am sufficiently informed — that
the government of the Canadas is in the habit
of assuming and assertinfij the right of remov-
ing the Indians, without their consent, from the
lands they have occupied frcm time immemorial.
It is true, that the British population of the
Canadas has never crowded so hard upon
the Indians, as the population of the United
States ; and consequently has never brougiit
their rights so urgently and so publicly in
question. And farther : as the government
of the Canadas is not accustomed even to moot
the question of the territorial rights of the
Indians, but assumes the disposal of them, as
parents assign a place for their children, in their
own discretion, there has been no occasion of
controversy — neither is controversy possible,
until the Indians are admitted in court, as a
party, — unless they resort to the tomahawk. In
principle, therefore, and in practice, so far as
there has been oc :asion for it, it is unnecessary
to say, how much less the government of the
Canadas is in fault, in regard to the acknowledg-
ment of Indian rights, than the government of
the United States ; — except that, the former
has never promised, so far as I know, and

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AND BOTH BESPONSIBLE.

then violated promise. The rapid extension
oi' the population of the Union, and the oM
and public enf^agements of the government
with the Indian tribes, guaranteeing their
rights, have brouglit those rights into public
and earnest discussion. And it must be con-
fessed, that notwithstanding the public registry of
treaties, and notwithstanding the recent solemn
decision of the Supreme Judiciary of the nation,
definmg and affirming the rights of the Indians
in all that they ask, those rights are yet in a train
of actual violation. The decision of a Court is
not sufficiently active to arrest and turn such an
immense tide of injustice in a day.

So far, therefore, as there may be any dis-
closures in these pages of a dishonourable political
character, it will be seen, that they are, in a
great measure, equally applicable to the two
governments of Great Britain and the United
States; — except that, by accidental circumstances,
the great question has come earlier to its crisis,
under the administration of the latter, than of the
former. It is a grave truth, that neither com-
munity can say to the other : You are guilty of
a great sin in this matter. The world and heaven
have laid the charge at the door of each : Ye
are both alike responsible, and both guilty.

'■'W

CHAPTER Xlll.

VINDICATION OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS FROM
THE CHARGE OF BEING SAVAGES.

Since the world have agreed in attaching a
severe and savage cliaracter to the American
Aborigines in war ; and as I may yet liave re-
peated occasions to develop and describe some-
what of these features in the progress of this
story ; it is due to that people, that some explana-
tions should be made, and that they should realize
the benefit of all the apology of the circvmistances
in history, which have contributed to form that
character. Otherwise they may be robbed of a
portion of that sympathy, the full scope of which
they have a right to claim. It is no more than
fair — it is due to say, that they are not so bad,
as these acts of cruelty would seem to indicate.
Nay more : they are generally kind — they are
often heroically generous. Their domestic cha-
racter is tranquil and affectionate ; and their

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liosj)itality is bouiuled only by their slender means
of alKording comfort to the stranger. Their
fidelity and devotion, when once their faiih is
pledged, is unrivalled — it is romantic. They arc
not less trur and persevering and heroic in their
friendships, than terrible in war. Such is the
universal testimony of all, who have ever known
them. So kind and amiable are they at home,
and in peace, that they invariably secure the
tenderest regard of those, who have had oppor-
tunity to w^itness these developments of their
character. But for their extreme deprivation of
the common comforts of civilized communities, it
were almost a temptation to those, who have
experienced the selfish friendships and the hollow
courtesies of a more refined condition of society,
to go and take up their abode among them.
And the well known fact, that the savage, as he
is called, can never be contented to live away
from home, whatever munificent and dazzhng
offers are made to him — demonstrates most incon-
trovertibly, that there are charms in the state of
society among the American Aborigines, which
have their foundation and their secret in the
amiable susceptibilities and kind ofiices of our
nature. Habit has its moral power, indeed.
But this cannot be the mere force of habit.
The indulgence of the bad passions can never

5' ^hki s.

TIIF. INDIAN KIND AND AMIABLE.

Ill

make man happy. Tliey will Hy tVoni the storm,
as soon as they have an opportunity. But the
Indian of America will never be contented beyond
the bosom of his own tribe — much less in a
civilized community. Plant him there, and he
is vacant — his eye wanders unsatisfied. Treat
him with all possible kindness, and he still
remembers with undying regret the kindness of
his home. Tempt him by the most attractive
oflers — and he will turn from them, and say —
" Let me go home."

I say, then, that there is a moral secret of
an amiable character, that has created these attach-
ments. It is not the roughnesses of life, that
have thus won and chained under these unyield-
ing and indissoluble bonds the domestic affections
of the Indian; but it was the long and habitual
experience of inartificial kindness — a kindness,
of which he could not find even a type in the
new condition, to which he had been transferred ;
and therefore he sighed for his liOme.

How, then, shall we account for the cruelties
of the American Aborigines, as attributed to them
in the records of then* warfare ? — How can tliese
amazing contrarieties of character be reconciled ? —
For myself I do not think the task insurmount-
able. Nay — it is easy. In the first place, there
have been, as always occurs in such narratives.

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egregious exaggerr
invests the horrible with greater lio-.rors, than
wliat legitimately belong to it. But with all the
prunings of exact history, it must be confessed,
that Indian warfare in America, is horrible
enough. And I here undertake the task of
explanation — and I will add, of some show of
apology.

The American Indian, in his wild condition,
it must be understood, is, in intellectual and
moral culture, a harharian. He is an impro-
vident, uncultivated child of nature — prompted
to action only by his present necessities. Yet
he is a man. He loves comfort and happiness,
as much as he can get by the least possible
pains ; and while undisturbed by the menaces
of foes, his greatest happiness consists in loving
and being loved. In all his domestic relations,
therefore, he is kind. And in accordance with
the same disposition, he is hospitable. Whatever
of good, and of the best, that is reckoned such
among themselves, belongs to his guest. There
is nothing in his power, which he will not sur-
render. And all this while his native energies
He dormant. He delights in a lazy, indolent
existence. When "oused by hunger, he will
pursue the chase with wakeful vigilance and in-
tense exertion. And when he returns with his

iiir: AMr:ui(AN indian artificial. 1 I;»

game, lie satiates his appetite, and lies down to
sleep, not c'arin«r for the necessities of to-nioirow,
or the coming week. His wife and daughters
cultivate the corn, and gather the wild rice ;
while himself and sons, after intervals of repose,
provide their slender larder with venison, and
fish, and fowl.

But their humble and unenviable condition is
yet liable to be annoyed by foes ; and so de-
fenceless are they, that surprise is fatal. If they
suspect hostilities, from another tribe, or are
made aware of such design, they know well,
that the annihilation of their enemies is their
only security; — and that their own extirpation
will be as assiduously sought for. And thus, by
the necessities of their condition, vigilance and
vengeance become their watchword. The indo-
lent savage starts up from his long repose, con-
vokes a council of war, and lights the fires of
grave and solemn deliberation ; and the purpose
being publicly resolved, either in self-defence, or
for the avengement of supposed injury, the
war-dance is immediately arranged, as the form
of enlistment for the enterprise. The reasons of
the war are announced to the assembled tribe,
with all the peculiar powers of Indian oratory,
and by the most impassioned appeals to the
excited feelings of the untutored savage ; — and

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S.\VA(iK PASSIONS KINDLED

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their ciuMnics are ])ublicly iiiul soloiuiily tievotecl
to death and vcn<^eaiico. Tlie pride of tlieir
nation, their wives and little ones, their eabins,
their lmntiii«( and fishin*^ grounds, their terri-
tories elainied l)y the prescriptive ri<^ht of pos-
session, the graves and spirits of their lathers —
their own lives, dear to all, and now menaced by
impending war ; — every fact and circumstance,
that is })recio.r-; in present })ossessi(>n, or dear to
hope; — all, that belongs to life, and all that is
mysterious and awful in religion — are invoked,
and !)rought in with all the power of their wih]
poetry and savage rhetoric, to shake oil' the
lethargies of peace, and kindle the passions for
war. The softer feelings arc (pienched, and tlie
tender ties of life absolved. The tomahawk is
thrown upon the ground, as a gauntlet— and the
dissonant sounds of their martial instruments,
"grating harsh thunder," mingled with the deej)
and hoarse murmiir of the solemn chaunt oi^ the
war-song, raised by an awful choir of ventrilo-
quists— and every now and then suddenly broken
by the sharp and piercing explosion of the fiendly
war-whoop; — all dancing and jumping, in utmost
disoider, around the fire, naked, painted, and
feathered, with tomahawk in hand, each of
hideous aspect, and together making a hideous
group; — these all, ..id numerous other cha-

BY THE WAR-DANCi:.

115

mctcristie concomitants of tlu; scone, constitute
the cliallen<re, which is niiule upon the assem-
bled warriors, to take up the gauntlet, and
tluis pK'dge tli( mselves to the destruction of
their enemies. Nothing can exceed tlie ellect of
tliese solemnities on the j)assions of the Iiuhan.
Ilis former trancjuil spirit is thoroughly exor-
cised, and he is suddenly transformed into a
lanatic and a madman. Anticipating well the
doom, that awaits him, if he falls into the hand
of his enemies, he works u[) all his passions to a
fearlessness of death, and to a contemj)t of every
imaginable cruelty. He turns his back, and
steels his heart to all domestic endearments.
He fasts — he lacerates his own flesh, and accus-
toms himself to the patient and unflinching en-
durance of pain and agony, by the inflictions of
his own hand. And when the Indian is thus
prepared for war, no torment, however inge-
niously devised, however cruelly inflicted, can
cause a single muscle of his frame to quiver.
7\11 liis feelings and passions are too stout to be
subdued by such inventions. He arms himself
alike to endure them, and to inflict them. Such
are the necessities, and such is the custom of
Indian warfare. It knows no mercy. He be-
comes a war-stricken and blood-tlursty maniac,
from the moment of his enlistment, till he falls

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THE IXDfAN IN WAR

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by the hand of his foe, or returns victorious to
his home. He is elevated above the atmosphere,
and thrown beyond the circumference of all ordi-
nary human sympathies. For the time, he is
not a man — he is more than a man. He has
been excited to a condition of mental intoxica-
tion— of spiritual inebriety — and maintains it.
The state of his passions is a mere artificial
product. It is not the nature of man — it is not
the nature of the Indian — but the effect of an
adopted, a cherished, an inflexible principle,
which, if not necessary, he at least imagines to
be so. And woe be to him — woe to the man, or
the woman, or the child, that bears the mark of
his enemies, and falls in his power. He has
taken a solemn religious sacrament, that absolves
him from tenderness, that makes tenderness a
crime, if it be shown to a foe. In war the
American Indian is indeed a barbarian. What
else could be expected from his untutored con-
dition— from his uncultivated nature ? Cunning,
and stratagem, and cruelty are to him a necessary
policy — because such is the policy of his enemies.
They know not — they cannot be expected to
know the refinements of civilized warfare. And
it is at least a question, whether the more mag-
nanimous onset and the softer clemency of a
conqueror, among civilized nations, are to wash

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117

away the crime, by which, in his march to the
attainment of his laurels, lie has desolated human
happiness and life on the largest scale ; — while
the savage blow, which affords no time to anti-
cipate calamity, and leaves no widow or father-
less child to weep a loni? and tedious way
to the grave, is alone to be damned in human
opinion.

And can it be expected of the Indian, when
he makes war upon the white man— or rather,
when the white man has proroh'tl him to war,
that he will conform to the usages of civilized
nations? How can he do it? If he fights, he
must fight in his own way. In his creed, surprise
is his lawful advantage, and extirpation his ne-
cessity. And under the same artificial and
unnatural excitement, and with the same deter-
mination, and from the same coverts of the forest
and the night, from which he pounces upon the
foe of his own race, he springs also upon the
unexpecting village of the white man, wraps
it suddenly in flames, and if it be possible, leaves
not a soul to tell the story of their calamity.
Although we cannot love this part of their
character — although we are shocked at the story
of such warfare — yet may we fiml a reason for
it, in the habits and circumstances of these wild
children of nature — a reason, which, if it does

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INDIANS HAVE

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not approach to an apology, may yet leave them
possessed of elements of character, which, in
their tranquil moments are worthy of our esteem
and our confidence.

It remains yet to be told, that the Ameri-
can Aborigines have scarely ever waged a wanton
war upon the European colonists — and perhaps
it ought to be said — never. They received
European settlers originally with open arms —
they generously parted with their lands, piece by
piece, for the most trifling considerations — and
always manifested a friendly disposition, so long
as no just occasion of suspicion and hostility was
afforded. They regarded the white man as a
superior being — as indeed he was. They re-
verenced him ; and they were never easily
provoked to enter into strife. That the rapid
growth and gradual encroachments of the Euro-
pean colonists were natural occasions of jealousy,
may easily be imagined. The Aborigines saw
themselves deprived of one territory after another,
their hunting grounds destroyed, their fishing
privileges monopolised, and their means of sub-
sistence in consequence gradually failing. They
retired into the wilderness — and still the white
men trode upon their heels. Occasionally private
quarrels awakened resentment, and sowed the
seeds of public contest. And is it a matter of

NEVER BEEN AGGRESSORS IN WAR. 119

wonder, — that tlie Indian was provoked i that he
began to assert his riglits, and meditate their
recovery? The whole history of Indian warfare
in America proves, that not only in their igno-
rance, but in nature, and in reason, it was
to be expected. And no less was it to be ex-
pected, that they would conduct their wars in
their own way. They have done many cruelties,
and those cruellies have been made an apology
for taking possession of their inheritance. After
all that has been f^.aid of their savage nature,
they are uniformly found a meek, and patient,
and long-sutiering race. I do conscientiously
consider it a libel on their character to call them
.savages; — and my only reason for conforming
to this usage occasionally, is simply because it is
usage ; — for the same reason that we call them
American Aborigines.

It is moreover to be observed, that the charac-
ter of all the Indian tribes, within the jurisdiction
of the States proper, has long since been greatly
modified by their intercourse and intimacies with
the whites — in some respects for the better, in
others for the worse. So far as they have caught
the vices of the whites, and acquired the use of
ardent spirits, it has been worse, and even
ruinous for them. But despairing of success in
war against these intruders on the graves of their

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INDIAN CHARACTER MODIFIED.

fathers, all those tribes, which have been more or
less encircled and hennned in by the white
settlements, have not only lost their original
wildness, and intrepidity of character, but such,
as have not become debased by intemperance,
have been greatly softened ; — and not a few of
them exhibit the most exemplary specimens of
civilized manners — and some are even highly
cultivated and refined. They have men and
chiefs, who have been well educated at the
colleges and universities of the United States,
■who would do honour to any society, and who
are capable of executing with great ability a con-
sistent and dignified current of political diplomacy
with the general Government, in defence of their
own rights. Specimens of this character will be
abundantly developed in the course of our
narrative. They are no longer objects of dread —
and may fairly assert their claims to admission
within the pale of civilized communities. We of
course speak of those, who have been surrounded
and impaled by civilization itself. There are
tribes, who are yet wild — some in the North-
West Territory, on the east of the Mis-
sissippi ; — and many nations of this desf!ription,
scattered over the vast regions between the
Mississippi and the Pacific Ocean. But all the
tribes within the boundaries of the organized

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INDIAN CHARACTER MODIFIED.

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States — especially the older States — are more
or less civilized. They are an unoffending,
tractable, and docile people And the efforts
of the benevolent for their intellectual and
moral cultivation, as well as for their improve-
ment in the useful arts of life, have been
abundantly rewarded — as we shall have occasion
to notice.

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VOL. I.

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CHAPTER XIV.

GRADUAL EXTINCTION OF TIIP: INDIAN TRIBES
IN THE EASTERN STATES. cS:c.

We have already recognised the fact — that
the ahoriginal tribes of North America have been
compelled to retire before the encroachments of
the European occupants of their ancient terri-
tories. The district of New England, compre-
hending all that part of the American Union,
which lies east of Hudson river, except a narrow
strip of territory, falling within the state of New
York, was originally found tenanted by these
tribes. But where are they now i They were
once numerous and formidable — they were even
rivals in political importance, and in war. A few
scores of the Mohecans, are yet to be found in
Montville, Connecticut ; and are seen wasting
away, and will probably soon disappear, like
many other tribes of New England, whose names
are almost forgotten. The Narragansetts, of
Rhode Island, and some relics of the Peguods,

ii-

GRADUAL EXTINCTION, &c.

once the terror and sc(Hirge of the colonists under
their politic and famed chieftains, Sassacus and
Philip,* are lingering out an expiring existence.
Some little and insulated hordes are yet found
in the State of Maine. Besides these, there
are a few otlier remnants, scattered here and
there, hut scarcely known. — Tn all now remain-
ing in New England, there are only — 2,57.'3!
Alas ! they have had their day — they had their
importance — they were a proud race, and be-
lieved themselves the best. But where are thev
now ? The high Providence of heaven will justify
himself— but will he not also require their blood
at the hands of their extirpators ? Could they
not have been saved ? Undoubtedly they could.

The State of New York, which it should be
recollected lies immediately on the west and
south borders of New England, still retains in
its bosom some important relics cf these ancient
tribes : a few at Montauk Point, on the east end
of Long Island ; — some con: iderable bodies in
the heart of the State, near Utica ; — some on the
line of Genessee River ; — the Tonewantas, in
Genessee County ; — the Tuscaroras, at Lewiston,
near Niagara; — and the Senecas, a part of whom
are near Buffalo, and others farther up the Lake :

* Sassacus was chief of the Pequots ; Pliilip of the Poka-
nokets -but sometimes headed the Narragansetts, as allies.

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GRADUAL KXTINCTIOX

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— in all throughout the State: — 5,181! As I
sliall have occasion to notice the numcM-ous trihes
in other States, and in tlie Western Territories, in
another i)lace, T purposely overlook tliem here, for
the sake of coming more directly to the field, which
is destined to occupy the remainder of this volume.
The Indian tribes of New York, like those of
other States, retain what are called '' Rcscrva-
f /Otis'' of territory, under an assumed guardianship
of the commonwealth. These " Reservations "
consist of contain lands, which have been found
in the actual possession of the Indians, in their
last retreats before the incursions of the white
man. In the progress of the white settlements,
as they have gradually encircled these tribes,
it has been found necessary to make surveys
and fix the exact boundaries, beyond which the
citizens of the State should have no right to
tre.'pass — leaving the Indians in possession of
territories and privileges, defined by special
statutes. So far the parental guardianship of
the State over the Indians, has been kind. But
it has also happened, in the progress of events,
and by the indomitable cupidity of land-jobbers,
anticipating the final and thorough ejectment of
the Indians, that the pre-empt'i07i right of their
territories, under a general supervision of the
State, and in consideration of which the State

,.M-

OF THE i:ASTi:iiN THIUES.

■it

has realized a certain bonus, lias fallen into the
hands of corporate companies — as before reco«i;-
nised — which necessarily and for ever excludes
the Indians from a fair and open market of their
lands. No private citizens can negotiate for
their territories, as citizens negotiate with one
another. It has moreover happened, that the
Indians, being good judges of land, have always
been found upon the best ; — and consequently,
that their reservations are most covetable. Hence,
from the cupidity of these pre-emption conn)anies,
no pairs have been spared to multiply the
cause°, and hasten the occasions of their removal.
Inconveniences, restrictions, and annoyances,
naturally resulting from their insidatcd condition,
and aggravated by the devices of these interested
corporations, have been mad^ to bear u})on the
tribes so habitually, and so severely, that they
have long since began to feel strong inducements
to remove into regions, where they might be
exempt from these vexatious molestations ; and
where they might enjoy privileges more con-
genial to their tempers and habits. The attach-
ments of the aboriginal Americans to the graves
of thiiir fathers is proverbial. " But a perpetual
dropping weareth a stone." It was impossible,
that even this strong and undying passion, an
innate principle, a religious virtue in man, should

/'*i

^ ;;I

f '

i w«<

126

ADVICE OF DR. MORSE.

not ultimately yield to the almost innumerable
and the aggravated discomforts of life, of which
they have found themselves the subjects in the
State of New York, by the causes already adduced.
The time had not come, when they could amal-
gamate with the citizens. The law allowed them
no common rights of citizenship. They are to
this moment a proscribed race — liable indeed to
the force of special statute, if they oflend ; — but
for ever barred from the protection of common
law, and excluded from the common rights of
the community. Their certain doom, therefore,
in remaining on their ancient territories, thus
surrounded and thus proscribed, must be a final
and inevitable extinction of their tribes.

In these unpleasant and hopeless circumstances,
the Rev. Dr. Morse, known to the world, not
only as a most respectable and useful divine of
New England, and as a compiler of Universal
Geography, in American Literature — but more
recently and still more publicly known, as the
author of a Report to the American Congress,
on the condition and statistics of the Aborigines ;
having been commissioned by that body to travel
and collect information on this subject — and
returning from his researches in the North-West
Territory in 1820, suggested, in the benevolence
of his heart, to the chiefs and most influential

ADVICE OF DR. MORSE.

1J3"

men of the New York Indians — wliosc removal
at that time botli poUcy and benevolence seemed
to recommend — that the territory above mentioned
would be a suitable retreat for the Indians of
that State ; and recommended to them to open
negotiations with the general Government for
that purpose. *' That,'' said the Rev. Doctor, " is
in all respects a country to be desired by Indians.
It is a mild climate — the land is good, the forests
full of game, and the lakes and rivers abounding
with fish. The region itself is not only remote
from the territories claimed by llie individual
States ; but it is in the exclusive occupancy of
Indian tribes, and destined in the plan of
the national government for that purpose. Be-
sides, it is vast, and not only sufficient for the
tribes already there, but more than sufficient for
all your purposes and theirs. There you need
not fear the encroachments of the white man.
Go — and look. Hold a council-fire with the
wild nations, which now occupy the territory.
Tell them, you are their brothers, come from the
rising sun — and that you want a place among
them ; and when they shall have agreed to
receive you in peace, the government of the
United States will for ever guarantee to vour-
selves and your children such possessions, as
your brethren there may agree to award for your

t '

..,»,

•J \

'"^M

[28

ADVICE OF DR. MORSE.

Itl' I

\i '

\ 4

III

inheritance. You will never again be Jisturbetl.
The white man will never go there. He will
never desire those lands. They are too far off.
And besides, there is a natural boundary, the
great Lakes, to defend you for ever from such
incursions. Sell your lands here — take what is
necessary of the money to satisfy the native tribes
of those regions, for giving you a home, and put
the rest in the hands of your great Father, at the
city of Washington, who will keep it safely for
your use. Here you can no longer live in com-
fort. Go yonder, and prosper. The Govern-
ment wish you to go tliere. A? vou have long
been in friendship with the President of the
United States, and as you have acquired much
of the manners and arts of civilized life, your
lather., the president, knows, that you will help
hini keep the peace with those wild nations ;
and that you will there be a benefit to him, and
he can be a benefit to you. He will protect and
defend you, and secure you for ever in all your
rights ; — and you may be the means of raising
thos^: nations, along with your own progressive
improvement, under the fostering hand of the
President, to civilization and happiness." *

* Of course I do not pretend to quote literally, but merely
to give the substance of what was said in these interviews, as
narrated to me by the chiefs. The advice was taken and acted
upon, and led to momentous results — as will appear.

I? 4
11' \

%. %
lli: ■;
15* ■

CONCURRENCE OF GOVERNMENT.

12[)

The Reverend Doctor was sincere in liis ad-
vice— he was honest — he gave it out of the
benevolence and fulness of his kind heart. lie
did not even imagine, that in less than ten years,
even after these solemn stipulations should have
been consummated, and the parties entered upon
the possession of their inheritance, a plan would
be laid to erect that very territory into a member
of the Federal Union, and to eject these emigrant
Indians, together with the ancient and native
tribes, into other and unknown regions !

Animated by these reports and representa-
tions from so venerable and worthy a man, the
authorities of the New York tribes opened a
correspondence with the official organs of the
Government at Washington ; and Mr. Monroe,
President of the United Stntes, ordered the
proper authorities to execute letters of appro-
bation, and to atibrd all needful facilities to the
chiefs of the Indians of the State of New York : —
first — in accomplishing a visit of inspection to
the North - West Territory, and in holding a
friendly council with the tribes of those regions,
to open their designs, and to confer mutually on
the great purpose ; — and next, if they shouhl
succeed in negotiating with the native tribes,
to supervise and facilitate the arrangements,
so that nothing on the })art of Government

r-.i ' >\

i I

130

NEW YORK INDIANS

should be wanting in the attainment of their
object.

It is proper here to observe, that the govern-
ment of the United States have ever been accus-
tomed to recognise in principle and in form the
right of the Indian tribes over the territories, of
which they are found in actual possession and
use. But as the Government asserts a general
jurisdiction within all the boundaries settled be-
tween itself and other civilized powers, it claims
a supervision in all negotiations of territory be-
tween lie Indian tribes themselves, and requires
its own approbation and seal to ratify them. The
Government also disallows of all negotiations of
lands directly from Indians to private citizens,
and asserts the pre-emption right. These rules
'^re alike applicable to the claims of the general
Government, in relation to Indian territories
wii/ioid the bounds of the several States, and to
the claims of the individual States, in relation to
Indian territories within their bounds ; — except
in such cases, where the supervision of Indian
territories within the States, still vests in the
general Government by the force of original
right and unaltered covenants.

In 1821 and 1822 successively, delegations of
the New York tribes, composed of the Rev. Mr.
Williams and other chiefs, visited the North-

AGREE TO REMOVE.

l.Jl

West Territory, and succeeded to their satistac-
tion in negotiating with the native tribes, under
the full authority and approbation of the Presi-
dent of the United States — accompanied by an
agent of government to supervise the transac-
tions. The New York tribes entered into solemn
treaties with the tribes of the North-West, pur-
chased of them specific territories for specific
and valuable considerations ; and laid the foun-
dation, as was hoped, for a general and speedy
removal of all the Indians of New York into
that territory. The President of the United
States became a party to the engagements, and
ratified all the transactions, and duly certified
copies were deposited in the proper office at
Washington, and left in the hands of the parties.
And it was officially and distinctly stated, as the
purpose of Government, and a pledge to that
effect given — that white men should be excluded
from that territory. This pledge was given,
as a motive to induce the New York Indians to
emigrate — inasmuch as the Government had an
interest in settling them there, that tlicir good
example might have a happy influence on the
native and more untutored Indians. There were
also political reasons for getting them out of tlie
State of New York — reasons, operating be-
tween the State and national Governments — and

I i|

\32

THE NATUME OF THE

*•!

■Ss:'

reasons, such as the )re-emption companies, in
the way of influence, were able to wield.

The Stockbridge tribe sold their lands, and
removed almost immediately, The Oneidas,
with Mr. Williams at their head, did the same.
The Brothertons began to make their arrange-
ments to follow. And all proper inducements
were gradually operating on the minds of the
other tribes, who had not at first taken so deep
an interest in the enterprise, and who were more
reluctant to engage in it. They were not so
immediately under the influence of Mr. Williams,
who had been the main-spring of the movement,
and whose enlarged mind and foresight had
thoroughly comprehended all the disadvantages
of their condition, and the destiny to which they
must be doomed in the State of New York. But
under the auspices of these arrangements, their
prospects were now brightened. A new and
interesting field of Indian society and of Indian
empire, remote from the encroachments and de-
fended against the incursions of the white man,
and under all the improvements of civilization
and the advantages of Christianity, opened be-
fore them. The government of the United
States was pledged to maintain the engagements
between the tribes themselves, to defend their
rights against the cupidity of citizens from the

UNDERSTANDING.

\3S

States, and to lend all convenient aid in pro-
moting their general improvenie/it. It was in-
deed an interesting and a hopeful vision. The
day of their redemption seemed nigh at hand.
A wide and bcautifid country, well suited to the
nature and habits of the Indian, far off beyond
the inland seas, skirted on the east by the long
and wide bosom of Michigan, a good natural
boundary between the Indian and the white
man ; promised for ever by the faith, and for ever
to be defended by the arm, of a great nation, as
the home and sanctuary of the hitherto abused
and persecuted children of the forest ; their great
father, the President of this nation, engaging to
keep the peace among themselves, if any of them
should quarrel, as their fathers in their wild con-
dition had been accustomed; — promis..ig to send
them implements of agriculture and of all the
useful arts of civilization, and teachers of their
children, and ministers of the religion of the
white man, to point them the way to the white
man's heaven; — and promising to • atch with
parental tenderness over all their interests, po-
litical and social, and to raise them as high in
character and in hap})iness, as their white
brothers, who sit under the protection and enjoy
the privileges of the same good Government.
Such were the promises, and such the prospects

tin

'i-r

134

EXPECTATIONS.

til uis

held out to the chiefs and tribes of the New
York Indians, a httle more than ten years ago,
when they consented to resign the home of their
fathers, and began to remove into the territories
of the North-West. Tliey had ah*eady began to
plant their villages and raise their cabins on the
beautiful banks of the Fox River; — they had
formed interesting and friendly alliances with
the wilder and untutored tribes of their newly
adopted country ; — all were agreed and resolved
to cultivate the arts and manners of civilization; —
their confidence of future repose and exemp-
tion from the incursions of white men was un-
broken ; — and all their prospects were bright, as
the sun which made their corn to grow, and re-
freshing as the showers which softened the rich
soil, in which it was planted. The aged chief,
smiling out of his care-worn and anxious counte-
nance, blessed his tribe for their goodly inheri-
tance, and touched the harp of joyous prophecy
over the hopeful future, and dying, said — " Now
is mv soul satisfied." The father told his chil-
dren — '' Now we have a home — we shall not
again be driven away." The mother smiled
more sweetly on her infant — and the stripling
in sympathy caught the feeling of general
satisfaction, and went more joyously to his
sports.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

18.3

But — where is the faith, that can bin J the
selfishness, or restrain the reckless and unprin-
cipled enterprise of man? A Goveriunent may
give their pledges in all honesty, and their own
citizens may undermine the sacred foundations,
and violently dissolve the tics — or another king
may arise in the land, that shall have forgotten
Joseph.

It is difficult for any, who know not how by
actual observation, to appreciate the rapidity, with
which the western territories of the United
States have been entered and possessed by emi-
grants from the East. It is not twenty years,
since the great value and importance of the
peninsula of Michigan, lying between the sea of
the same name on the west and Huron on the
east, was generally unknown. And if we have
been rightfully informed, a Committee of Con-
gress, in less than that time since, having been
appointed for the express purpose of inquiring
into the value of that territory, and taking their
evidence on common rumour, reported, that it
was not worth giving away ; — and that it would
be an imposition and a cruelty, to bestow upon
the disbanded soldiers of the army, as was pro-
posed, a bounty of lands in such a worthless tract.
And yet at this moment, that very peninsula is
crowded with a population sufficient to claim

■

1 -^

? (

• *

136

SUPPOSED SCHEME lOR

admission, as a separate and independent mem-
ber of the Federal Union ; — and is destined
doubtless soon to make one oi'the most flourishing
of the United States.

The North-West Territonj, consecrated, as
already re* ^jni i^ to be the home of the Indian,
the sanctuai V : i 'i;^. rights, and tlie place of ex-
periment for i.idiari '»ciety and Indian empire,
is but one step beyond the territory of Micliigan.
And that same spirit of enterprise, which found
out the latter to be a desirable country, has also
discovered the former to be such.

As I cannot imagine, that those, who have
taken the lead, in disturbing the condition and
blighting the prospect of the Indians at Green
Bay, could be ignorant of the understanding
that existed, or of the arrangements, that had
been made, with the general Government — I
shall take the liberty of supposing, that their
reasonings and purposes were substantially as
follows : —

" What right had the President of the United
States to award this country to the Indians — and
thus shut up the door to diis desirable and beau-
tiful region against the enterprise of our citi^'.ens i
Is this wide and rich territory, which in twenty
years might make one of the first of these Confe-
derate Republics, to be doomed to the possession

BREAKING UP THIS NEW ARLANOEMENT. 1.37

of those indolent savages, who will never use
it for the proper purposes of human society i
There is no reason in it. God designed, that the
earth should be cultivated, and that man should
make the most of it ; and those, who will not
use it, as was intended by the Creator, must give
place' to those, who have more virtue. And be-
sides, there is no difficulty in managing these
Indians. They are a simple and credulous peop^^.
We can sow dissensions anions them. We c.in
make the wild tribes quarrel with their adc^; '^d
neighbours ; and bring them all together uei-^ve
their great father — (as they call him) — the ^Presi-
dent— and make at least one party say : * \ . e are
dissatisfied. We wish the agreement to be broken
up. We do not like our brothers from New
York. And we wish our great father to send
them back again.' And moreover, there have
been some improprieties and informalities, com-
mitted in their engagements, which may be im-
peached, and render them null and void. We
can show, that the New York Indians have been
guilty of overreaching, in their bargain with the
natives, and have acquired more land, than the
value of the considerations rendered. The trans-
actions will not bear investigation. We can use
this, first, to awaken jealousy and irreconcileable
feeling in the one party ; —and next, to disturb and

l;38

THE RESULT

r
1. .

I; n

•1

'■i,

invalidate the rights of the other. And having once
reduced the quantity of land, claimed by the New
York Indians to a small patch, such as they had
before they removed, by threatening them with the
loss of the whole ; — and having brought our own
settlements around them and hemmed them in —
they will be reduced to their former necessity of
removing again for existence. And as for these
wild tribes, there will be no difficulty in getting
rid of them. We can at any time persuade them
for a trifle to sign a qiftt claim to their territories."
I have here summed up, in a few words, what
I suppose to have been the substance of the
reasons, which have operated to blast the pros-
pects of the associated Indian tribes of the North-
West Territory, within the last ten years ; and
which have opened and destined that region of
country shortly to make another of the Inde-
pendent States of the American Union. I do not
pretend to say, that any number of particular
individuals can be named who have all the
responsibility of this procedure. Who can find
the conscience, that shall be held answerable for
a deed, which has been done by so many hands \
And yet it has been done — and the responsibility
must attach somewhere ; and there are many con-
spicuous individuals, who have had a large share in
it. Heaven forefend; that the whole community

OF THE PLAN.

131>

of the United States should be held answerable
for this ! The entire plan, comprehended in the
supposititious argument of the last paragra})!!, has
been actually executed ; — that is, so far as time
and circumstance wouiu allow. And the rest
may easily be anticipated. The New York In-
dians and the native tribes have been brought to
quarrel with each other, through the inliuence of
persons interested in the removal of both ; — their
covenants have been impeached, and set aside, as
unwortliy of respect: the pending controversy
has been embarrassed in every possible Ibrm ; —
it has gone up to the city of Washington, again
and again, and received judgments from e,i'])arte
testimony ; — advantage has been taken of the
ignorance of one president in respect of the
doings of his predecessor, and false informations
carried to his ear and made to influence his deci-
sions;— Commissions of investigation, and clothed
with authority to institute new and final arrange-
ments, have been sent upon the ground, which
have disregarded and trampled upon the rights
of the Indians, — and their reports and recommen-
dations have been respected. And now r.nother
president, and a new administration have come
to power, whose avowed policy is to remove «//the
Indian tribes west of the Mississippi; and who
are using all possible endeavours to accomplish

\ ';;

140

THE RESULT OF THE PLAN.

it. And it was under this administration, tliat
the Commissioners from tlie general Govern-
ment, on board the Sheldon Thomson, in August
1830, as before mentioned, were on their way
with instructions to investigate and with authority
to settle these controversies ; — in other words —
to get rid of the Indians, and to satisfy those,
who wanted their huids. I do not mean by tliis
to impeach tlie Commissioners per.sonullij, as
having such a design. But such was the nature
of their instructions, that whatever they should
do in obedience to them, must tend to that result.
Indeed the whole matter had been previously
settled on the premises, by other Commissions,
and got into such a condition and such shapes,
and so much regard was paid to the final object —
that the Commission of 1830 was rather a mere
pretence and mockery, than any thing else. It
was keeping up the show of justice, while no
justice was intended by those, who moved the
wires behind the scenes. Indeed, it was then
too late to do justice. The purpose had already
been resolved, and the wound inflicted for a plural
number of years ; and it was now well under-
stood, that the North-West Territory must become
a separate and organized Government, and a
candidate for admission into the Union. It is
not, therefore, on account of the importance and

TIIK Ur:ASON OF THIS N'ARR \TIVF..

141

evontfulncss of the doings oftliis Commission, in
themselves considered, tliat I have chosen to
notice the scene of their lahours ; — hut inasmuch
as it presents a very fit occasion for a fjeneral de-
velopement of tliis species of injustice done to the
American Ahorif;ines, and is equally good for that
purpose, as any other ; — and inasnmch as it offers a
rare exhibition of Indian character, cultivated and
uncultivated, and discloses their habits, manners,
sympathies, and hopes, in ways and under modi-
fications, uncommonly lively and picturesque; —
and more especially because I ha})pened to be an
eye-witness of the events; — I have selected it, as
worthy of minute and circumstantial detail.*

! '« !

* To show how little the disturhance of these Indians, in
their new abode, North-West Territory, was anticipated, and the
benevolent wishes of those, who desired to confirm them in
this retreat, I would here introduce some of the remarks of
Dr. Morse in his Report to Congress. It may be observed,
that the Doctor had been appointed an agent of Government,
with instructions to visit remote tribes, and collect all pvissible
information respecting them — to report the result of his obser-
vations, and to recommend any measures, which might seem to
him desirable to be adopted for the welfare of the Indians.

"The v nectation is," says the Doctor, when ])reparing his
Report, " t at a great part of the Stockbridge Indians, with
numbers of the St. Regis tribe, of the six nations, of the
Munsees, Nainicokes, Delavvares, and others, in the course of
the next season, 1822, will emigrate and plant themselves on
this purchase (in the North- West Territory, wliich had been
made pursuant to the Doctor's recommendation.) Should this.

'■fl

DR. MORSE S

iT'" ■'^-'

t.'iko place, a colony will be formed at once, and a current to it
created ; and shoidd its foundations be broad and laid with
wisdom, there is little doubt of its gradual increase. Should
the plan be popular with the Indians, (and the prospect is, that
it will be) a lar^e colony, enough perhaps to form a territory,*
or a State, may be ultimately collected here, educated together,
and received into the L'nion, and to the enjoyment of the
privileges of citizens.

'* Let regulations b.- made to prohibit the introduction of white
settlers within the limits of this territory — that is: within
limits houndeil south by Illinois, east by Michigan, north by Superior,
and west by the J^fissi.ssip/)i. Let this territory be resrrred exclu-
sively for Indians, in which to make the proj)ost'd experiment of
gathering into one body, as many of the scattered and other
Indians, as may choose to settle there — to be educated, become
citizens, and in due time, to be admitted to all the privileges
conmion to other territories and States of the Union. Such a
course would probably save the Indians."

The following is an article of a treaty made between theOovern"
mcnt of the United States and the Delaware tribe in 1788: —
Art. (». "Whereas the enemies of the I nited States have
endeavoured by every artifice in their })ower, to possess the
Indians in general with an opinion, that it i^ he design of the
States aforesaid to extirpate the Indians, and take possession
of their territories: — to obviate such false suggestions, the
United States do engage to guarantee to the aforesaid nation of
Delawares and their heirs, all their territorial rights in the
fullest and most ample manner, as they have been bounded by
former treaties, as long as: the said Delaware nation shall abide
by and hold fast tlie chain of friendship now entered into. And
it is further agreed between the contracting parties, — should it
for the future be found conducive to the mutual interests of
both parties, — to invite any other tribes who have been friends
of the United States, to join the present confederation and to
form a State, whereof the Delaware nation shall be the head
and have a representation in Congress, ^.c."

* A '1 rritorial Govermiu'iit in Americn. is substantially Colonial.

. r^

RECOMMENDATION.

143

I quote tliis article merely to show, that a ])lan like Dr.
MovJ^e's had, at so early a period, entered into the views of the
Ciovernnient.

" Should the expectation raised," says the Doutor, " in
regard to this project be realizetl in a o;ood dep;ree, I should
think this the idace (the North-West Territory) for the ultimate
establishment of the Indian College, which, in time, might be
provided whli Indian oflicers and instructors, as well a?
students, and have their own trustees to manage its concerns.
And if our Itrethren in Canada shall be disposed to unite with
us in this grand and desirable object, and make the institution
common for the benelit of the Indians on both sides of the
line, which separates us, as one College might be sutHcient for
!)oth — large funds, I am informed by a letter received while I
am writing this article, exist in England, designed expressly for
an object of this kind.*

" Should it be tliouglit expedient, and be found practicable,
to collect the remnants of tribes now scattered and lanKuishino;
and wasting away among our white population, and to colonize
them for the purpose of preserving them frouv extinction, and
of educating them to the best advantag*?, and with the greater
economy — some portions of this territory (the North- West) will,
I think, unciuestionably be found better suited to these objects,
than any other in our country — and as suck I dcliheratcly re-
commend litem to the attention of Government '^

"This," says Mr. Sargeant, a missionary among those
Indians, " was a plan of Dr. Morse's. — (Their removal from
the State of New York to the North- West Territory.) Wo
understand^the general Government are pleased, and have con-
firmed the title. Means will now be used to obtain a law of
Congress to exclude spirituous ii(juors and white heathen from
Green Bay."

• This letter nsserts, that tlie annual interest of a fund, f^'ianted in Uit
reign k.I' (jeorge II. Air " CivilizinL,' and Christianizing tiu- Indians df Xew
England," anniunts to ahout lO.OOn/. — and t!iat it is not appropriated. It
niiglu Ite interesting to iiKjuire after it.

I n

mh:

(HAP. XV.

THE DESIGN OF THE COMMISSION OF 1830 TO
GREEN BAY, &c.

As Green Bay is to constitute an important
scene of our observations, it may be proper to
remark, that tlic uime designates the settlement
at the mouth of Fox Ri'i,'r, at the liead of tlie
Vdi'ffv bay, bearing this name, and connected with
Lake Michigan. It is also generally understood,
as comprehending an indefinite amount of terri-
tory in that region. It constitutes the port, or
opening from the east to the north-west in that
direction.

The two great sections of territory falling
under the jurisdiction of the United States, known
by tlie names of Michigaji and the North-West,
and which for many years have been compre-
hended under one Territorial Government, of
which Detroit is the seat, have gradually assumed
no inconsiderable political importance, actual and
prospective, in the American Union; and since

DESIGN OF THE COMMISSION.

11.5

it has been foreseen and resolved, that each of
them will make a conspicuous and important
member of the General Union, they have respec-
tively claimed and realized their share of influence
at the City of Washington. In the management
of those territories, it has been a matter of neces-
sity, in the first place, that the Government should
act upon the representations of their commis-
sioned agents in that quarter ; — and next, tlioj?e
agents have been com))elled to yield to the
influence of the interested individuals, who have
been tempted to lay the foundations of theii
future wealth and importance in those distant re-
gions. Notwithstanding, that President AToin'oe
had pledged Green Bay, as the home and sanc-
tuary of the Indians, which was not only the key
of the North-West Territory, but compiehended
all its importance ; — yet it was well known, that
an Act of Congress was necessary to secure that
object. In the meantime the Government has
gone into other hands, and become wiser— at least
has blindly acted in obedience to the suggestions of
the interest of individuals. Men from the North-
West have instructed the Government how to
instruct their agents, in the management of these
Indian affairs. It was hardly possible that men,
sitting in their offices at ^^'ashington, should
understand the merits of these Indian claims :

VOL. I. H

\\G

DESIGN OF THE COMMISSION

I. 1'

'.■ 1 '

especially if they did not take the trouble to look
into the file of public documents, ^vhich recorded
and sealed them. As every government has its
numerous ramifications and distant props of de-
pendency, they might be more interested in gra-
tifying citizens in that quarter, than maintaining
the rights of Indians, who are not citizens. And
besides, the Indians, simple and confiding in
their nature, rested in confidence on the public
compacts, which had been executed in their
favour ; while the citizens around them were
alert and assiduous in accomplishing their ob-
jects. The Indians never imagined, that there
was any thing lame, or informal, or improper in
the instruments, on which they relied, until tliey
found themselves undermined by a train of
interested and political maneuvering. Anil by
this time, it is vain to sue for the redemption of
the pledge of President Monroe who is not only
out of power, but out of the world; — and which,
it is asserted, was only the pledge of an individual,
that he had no warrant to give. The North-
^^'est Territory must be a State, and these In-
dians, who had possessed themselves, as they
supposed, and as all concerned supposed at the
time, in a regular and rightful course, of the key
ind heart of the country, must be got out of
the way.

TO GREEN RAY.

147

To consummate this object, the previous steps
of which had been before arranged, the Commis-
sion of 1830 was sent to Green Bay. It is due,
liowever, to the members of that Commission to
say: — that their conduct on the occasion suffi-
ciently proved, that tliey had never understood
the real nature of the errand, before they entered
upon it; — and that they never manifested per-
sonally, or as a court, any willingness to do
injustice to the Indians. They found, indeed, on
their arrival, that tliey had got an unpleasant
business upon their hands — a business involved,
and comphcated, and embarrassed, beyond the
possibility of disentanglement — and yet claiming
their efforts to try to do something. They were
not only embarrassed by the case itself, even if
they had been invested with a full and unlimited
discretion ; but they were greatly embarrassed by
their instructions, the forms and scope of which
had evidently received their shape in accorda? 'c
with the plan of an ultimate ejectment ot he
Indians. Nor is it to be inferred, that the (io-
vernment, as such, was privy to such a dt >ign.
We do not believe it was so, in moral 'ent.
We cannot think it capable. It was suflicRntly
apparent, that during the whole course of John
Quincy Adams's administration, the Governmeiit
at Washington did not understand the case. Bui

H 2

1 IS

IGNORAXCF. OF GOVEIIXMENT

things in relation to this aflliir, were permitted to
go on, as recommended by the government agents
in that quarter. And it was hardly possible to do
otherwise, so long as the Indians did not know
how to manage their own case, and were inca-
pable of prosecuting it, so as to thwart the
purposes of their adversaries; or else were unin-
formed of what was doi))i!;. Neither is it to be
supposed, that the present administration, not-
withstanding their general policy is unfavourable
to Indian rights, understood the merits of this
question. It was too complicated, and too far
beyond the field of their observation, to make it
possible. They had other, and to them more
impoitant concerns, to occupy them. The in-
structions had evidently been dictated and drawn
up by a hand, which had previously had some-
thing to do with ilie matter ; and which was
capable and disposed to give them a shape to
suit the purposes of those who are opposed to
the Indians' claims. Nor was there any thing on
the foceof the instructions, calculated to startle the
mora! sew^ o( those unacquainted w^th the his-
tory Of' the pre. ious <^^ransactions. They even had
the apinaraiice of kindness, and of impartiality.
The Go\xr, ment of the United States, therefore,
^niay and oi ;ht to be actjuitted of knowingly con-
"•entinir to tiiiS iniuvv, even down to the time of

OF Tin: STATE OF TI»E CASK.

Ill)

C«l

the Commission of 1830. That they have not liad
opportuniti) oiuce that :inie to know, cati hardly
be said — as will appear iii the secjuel. ^^'e do not
say, they were released from all responsibility.
That could not be. But it cannot be supposed,
that they would ever consent to such flagrant
injustice, with their eyes upon it. Such things
are never done openly. It is easy to conceive,
and there is no doubt, that the faith pledged by
President Monroe to the New York Indians,
when tliey agreed to remove to Green Bay, v.as
carefully kept out of sight, in the correspondence
between the subsequent administrations and their
agents in the Nortli-West ; and that the public
documents, attesting it, were suffered to lie un-
disturbed upon the files, to which they had been
consigned.

The history of the whole affair is briefly
this : —

Under the auspices of President Monroe and
the Governor of Michigan in the years 18i,M-'i^?,
the chiefs of the New York tribes entered into
friendly alliances with the tribes of the North-
West, and made purchases of territory, as agreeil
upon and defined by themselves in mutual council,
for certain valuable considerations, specified in
the articles of covenant, and in due time dis-
charged. The real value and the propriety ol'

150

HISTORY OF THE

3j,r
. > r

; r<

1 9

the considerations promised and rendered to bind
the sale and secure tlie purchase, cannot be
estimated by the rules, which govern a similar
contract among the whites ; — inasmuch as the
whites have one object and the Indians another
in the use of land. The value of land in the
market of the whites is graduated by the pro-
bable proceeds of its future occupation and culture,
in their own way of managing it. The same
rule, applied to the habits of Indians, would of
course reduce the value, as represented by money,
indefinitely and very greatly. Indians make little
money, and need little ; and as it was never
expected, nor designed by the parties, that this
land should come into the market of the white
man, the only fair rule of estimating it in this
con' act, was its value among Indians. Ac-
cording to this rule, there is nothing to show,
that the New York Indians have not paid the
full value of the lands, which they claim to have
purchased. They satisfied the second party in
the stipulation. It was all they asked; and it
was doubtless as much as it was worth, under
the prospects, and according to the policy of tiie
contracting parties. Since the territory has been
seized by the whites, and acquired the accidental
value, present and prospective, which all such
property has in their hands — the price ocipulated

TITLK IN DISrUTF,.

151

and rendered by the New York Indians lias beta
adduced by their adversaries to invalidate the
purchase, and prove it a fraud ; — than which
nothing could be more unfair.

Besides — as it was an avowed policy of the
njwly associated tribes to keep away the white
man; — as the letters of Government had specifi-
cally recommended, that the contemplated nego-
tiations should have this object in view ; — and as
the New York Indians were better accpiainted
with the ways of white men, by having lived
among them ; — it was judged expedient, that
their deeds of purchase should include a mucli
larger territory, than what they wanted for them-
selves, or pretended to pay for ; — and that they
should hold this additional quantity of land, not
as their own, but in trust for common occupancy
and use, and to defend it from the whites. The
wild tribes were liable to be imposed upon. The
New York Indians, having had a long school of
experience, and having become civilized, were
more wary and competent. Nothing could have
been wiser than this arrangement. Those, who
know any thing of Indian character, kno\r also,
that the New York Indians were utterly incapable
of the dishonesty, which has been attributed to
them in this affair. Their faith was as sound
and as pure, as the faith of angels. Yet has this

1 1

152

MEASURES TO INVALIDATE

very measure, adopted at the sun;gestion of Govern-
ment authority, been employed to dissolve their
covenants, and annihilate their rights. Not only
has it been employed, as a presumption of dis-
honesty before the world, but, in conjunction
with all other possible and false occasions, it has
been assiduously applied to awaken jealousy, dis-
satisfaction, and bitter animosity, in the bosoms
of those tribes, wlio had wisely agreed to this
expedient. ' Tlie New York Indians have got
your lands, and they'll drive you away' — it was
said to them : * Demand a restoration, and we'll
give you a fair price for what we want, and which
is of little value to you — and you will still have
enough left for all your purposes of hunting and
fishing. We are vour friends. The New York
Indians are your enemies.' And they were per-
suaded ; and the sequel is in a rapid progress of
fulfilment. The wild tribes of the North-West
Territory will soon be thrown beyond the Mis-
sissippi— and what will become of them there,
remains to be proved. The New York Indians,
who had but just resigned their homes in the
east for a secure abode in the west, already re-
duced to a little patch of territory, will soon be
entirely surrounded and hemmed in, and vexed
and annoyed, as they were before they removed.
And what will they do then? Prophecy itself

Tlin TITLF,.

cannot divine — except, tluit their prospects are
by no means enviable.

And why, it is asked, does not Government
prevent tliis ? I have ah'eady supposed, what 1
believe to be the faci : that (iovernment has never
yet seen it in its true light. All governments of
weighty cares are slow to discern and redress the
thousand petty, yet grievous oppressions, that are
done within their jurisdictions. Tlie poor and
simple cannot find ways and means for a hearing;
and they are always anticipt^'.cd by their op-
pressors— so that when their cause is admitted,
there is little chance of redress. And has tliis
matter never gone to the ear of Government ?
It has been attempted ; and I have already
intimated, how uniformly the aggrieved have been
foiled. Besides, a new and general plan of re-
moving all the Indians iarther west, is in the
way. It is impossible in the present order of
things — and probably in any supposable order —
that this injustice should be arrested. There
may possibly come in enactments of indemnifica-
tion ; — but the question is decided — that the
Indians can never inherit the North- West Ter-
ritory. It is too late. It is decreed to rise and
stand an independent member of the Fcdernl
I nion.

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TEST TARGET (MT-3)

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(716) 873-4S03

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CHAPTER XVI.

BURNING OF DEERFIELD IN MASSACHUSETTS,
AND MASSACRE OF ITS INHABITANTS, cS;c.

" The history of the world," said one, " is
a history of crime and calamity." And if we
may put a commentary on this, it doubtless
means, that its most notable features are of this
description. The peaceful and even tenor of a
particular community, or of the grand community
of nations, makes brief chapters of history ; —
and for this reason : — that the interest of the
record is in the inverse proportion to the comfort,
which the facts narrated have brought to man-
kind. However libellous the charge, the human
mind loves excitement, and delights more in the
review of deeds of blood and of the disasters
occasioned by the conflict of the physical ele-
ments of the universe, than of the achievements
of benevolence and the security and happiness
of society. The detail of the actual misery,
inflicted by the strifes of nations, is always

1:1

BURNING or DEElUiLLD.

1 .;.5

private ; and imposes itself upon })iiblic observa-
tion, only by the s\vellii^<^ of its frightful agi^regatc.
The most remarkable incidents of private life,
and the most atrecting features of private cala-
mity, are almost entirely excluded from the notice
of the general historian, by the very design and
necessities of his task. These make the wide
and various field, and constitute the exhaustless
materials of the dramatist, the tragedian, and tin*
writer of romance. This is, indeed, the gran^l
monopoly of this class of writers — the province
of authentic biography excepted.

In the old French war, as it is called in
America, (for every country lias its own aimals,
the common allusions of which arc best under-
stood at home) the town of DeerHeld in Massa-
chusetts, which was then a frontier settlement,
became a prey to Indian pillage and massacre.
It is understood, that this event happened in the
early history of what were then called the Britisli
colonies of North America. The awful night,
when the Indian war-whoop broke the repose of
the peaceful inhabitants of that village, consigned
its humble tenements to the blaze of the fire-
brand, and its fathers and mothers, and brothers
and sisters, and helpless infancy, to indiscrimi-
nate massacre, or to painful captivity, is still
fresh in the recollections of traditionary narrative,

.•J

I »'

1 1

•I

1 .jG

MASSACRE OF DEERFIELD.

j_ -

I* '

and stands recorded on the authentic paj^cs of the
early history of New England. The place itself
is indeed at present one of the most secure abodes,
and one of the pleasantest and sweetest towns in
the Vale of the Connecticut, the long line of the
grateful territory of which, has been celebrated
by a native poet, whose verse offers to my recol-
lection the following couplet : —

" No rays of sun on happior valliL's shine,
Nor drinks the sea a lovelier wave than thine."

But the burning and massacre of Deerfield will
never be forgotten. An Indian assault, when
victorious, and Indian vengeance, are terrible
beyond imagination to conceive. In war mercy
is no attribute of the Indian's breast. One of
the solemn and sacramental acts of his enlist-
ment, is publicly to absolve himself from all
clemency towards his enemies ; and the more
merciless the inflictions of his cruelty on man,
woman, and child, the greater his glory, and the
more sure his reward. The implorings of help-
less age, the cries of the tender female, the be-
seechings of the mother, and the sudden terror
of her wakened infiint, are music to his ear ; —
and all the scene of his burning and carnage, a
provocation to his appetite for blood. The cap-
tive he leads away he doats upon, as the future

THE INFANT CAPTIVK.

and more public victim of his dire revenge ; and
if perchance the tender object of his future .sacri-
fice sinks under the fatigues of the way, lie Hfts
liis hatchet, and brings the victim to the earth,
and snatches and bears away the scalp, as his
trophy.

Among the families, which fell victims to the
massacre of DeerHeld, was that of the Kev. Mr.
Williams, the pious uid exemplary pastor of the
Hock, consigned to his spiritual charge, in that
frontier settlement. His youngest child, an in-
fant daughter, was snatclied from the cradle, and
borne away a captive; and by accident falling in
charge of an Indian wom<in, the child became the
favourite of her new protectress — was cherislied
and brought up in the St. Regis Tribe, of Lower
Canada ; and in process of time, was married to
an Indian chief. Although no knowledge of her
preservation and history could be obtained for
many years, she was at last discovered in a time
of peace, and persuaded with her husband to
visit the surviving family-connexions in Massa-
chusetts. But being entirely Indian in all her
feelings, her language, and manners, she could
never be persuaded to desert the home and the
tribe, to which she had become attached. She
was even discontented and manifestly uneasy,
under all the tender cares and anxious atten-

* I

'•I

■i

\58

THE INFANT CAPTIVE.

tions, wliich were in

exhausted u

poll lier

. 1

m-'i^^

'4 '

m -I; i

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vam

to induce her to return, with her family, and
take up her abode with the relics and descend-
ants of her father's house, and in the bosom of
civilized society. Every possible motive and
tempting offer were set before them ; but with-
out success. She and her husband occasionally
visited their family connexions in Massachusetts,
and were themselves visited in turn ; and the
kindest reciprocities of feeling were exchanged
in this way, from one generation to another.
And it may be observed, that the Indian family,
to which she was allied, took the name of
WilUnms, and have borne it to this day ; — as is
often the case, when connexions of this sort
have been formed. As is quite natural among
barbarous tribes, the natives of America, when
on friendly terms, are proud of European alli-
ances, and are not unwilling to make this change
of name, in honour of the family, from which
they have made the acquisitions of a maternal
head among themselves.

From one of the succeeding generations of
this Anglo-Indian family, (I am unable to specify,
whether it was the fourth, lifth, or sixth) two
brothers, Eleazer and John, the former perhaps
ten years old and the latter eight, by persuasions
used with their parents in Canada, were brought

alt, ! : " t

HER DESCENDANTS.

159

to Long Meadow, Massachusetts, about fifty
miles south of Deerfield, on Connecticut River, to
be educated among the collateral descendants of
their remote ancestor, the Kev. Mr,. W'iUiams.
The translation of these boys occurred about the
year 1800 — perliaps a little subseciuent. Their
father, an Indian chief of the tribe before named,
came with them, and stayed long enough to in-
duct his sons into some acquaintance and custom
with their new condition, and then left them in
charge of their solicitous and benevolent rela-
tions.

It was in the winter, while the earth was
covered with a deep and heavy lleece of im-
maculate snow. The father and his boys were
dressed in the Indian costume throughout, but
richly ornamented, according to Indian taste,
and in a style befitting the rank and dignity of
the family, as among the chiefs of the tribe.
Their blanket was worked into the forms of a
loose great coat with sleeves, and girded about
the loins by a belt of beaded wampum, with a
knife pendant in a scabbard. Their f(;et were
shod with moccasins, and their ancles and legs to
the knees, buttoned up by a species of scarlet
gaiters ; — the hair of their heads carelessly stuck
with feathers — and the whole person exhibiting
a very grotesque and attractive appearance.

4
.a

^< i

■i'

IGO

EARLY HISTORY OF TIIK

In tlie country retreat of Long -meadow,
where an Indian liad rarely shown liimself for
generations, and wliere every noveUy is a town
talk, this exhibition excited a wondrous and
wondering attention. The whole congregation
on Sunday, instead of looking at the minister
and hearing him, as was their duty, could talk of
nothing, and think of little, but the Indians.
Their eyes followed these strange-looking beings
into the church, and into their seats, and scarcely
turned away from them, till the services were
closed, and the lions had been withdrawn from
public gaze. Except for the conscientious
scruples of their pious host, they might as well,
or better, perhaps, have been kept at home.
But although there was a manifest distraction of
the public mind, and ilthough the Indians could
not understand a word of the services, vet
there was no knowinij what a blessing there
might be in it. The path of duty is the path of
safety ; and to the praise of New England be it
spoken, that in old^n time, the public conscience
would have been greatly disturbed at any un-
necessary neglect of public worship. Every
man was the guardian of his neighbour in this
particular, and held a conventional and vested
right to call him to account for delinquencies.
Although it must be confer ed, that they have, in

REV. ELEAZER \VILLIAMS.

IGl

some places, and in some degree, fallen oif
from this excellent custom of their forefathers.
The author of these pages was for years a
school-fellow with these hoys, and is well
acquainted with their history ; and hecause of
the conspicuous part, which the eldest of them,
Eleazer, is destined to occupy in our story, it is
thought suitahle to insert some traces of his
biography.

It may be proper to remark, that every town
in New England (called town in the act of in-
corporation, of which a parish in Old England
is the proper type, whether in the country^ or
otherwise) is divided into a number of small
geographical districts, to perfect the economy of
common education ; — that the schools of these
districts are supported by assessments on the
real estate within their limits, according to the
valuations of the civil list ; — that the children of
the poor have the same advantages, as those of
their more wealthy neighbours, so far as the
provisions of these schools are concerned ; which
are always sufficient for the purposes of what is
called a good common education ; — that is, in-
struction in the reading and grammar of the
English language, chirography, arithmetic, geo-
graphy, history, and such other things, as are
deemed important for the common business of

i'4

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U)2

EARI-Y IIISTOKV OF TIIK

t'j#

r> -J

i»

life. And this is always tliu first stage of
education, with the children of the rich as of the
poor. Those, who are ahle, and who choose to
extend the education of their children, having
passed them through this common course — the
privileges of which are always near their own
doors — send them ahroad to select schools, and
to the university, if they are destined for the
learned professions, or the higher conditions
of life.

It happened, that the author, in his school-boy
days, fell into the same district with these Anglo-
Indian lads, FJeazer Williams and his brother
John. On the first few days of their appear-
ance in the school-room, they were as much the
objects of curiosity with the other children, as
they and their father were with the congregation
at church. From the wildness of their nature
and habits, it was necessary for the master to
humour their eccentricities, until they might
gradually accommodate themselves to discipline ;
and but for the benevolent object in view, and
the good anticipated, it was no small sacrifice to
enduie the disorder, which their manners at first
created. Unused to restraint, and amazed at
the orderly scene around them, they would sud-
denly jump up, and cry, Unqjh ! or some other
characteristic and guttural exclamation, and then

^ii ii

% \

'• 53

iiKV. eli:azi;h wii.r.iAMs.

It;.;

poiliaps spring across (he room, and niak( a true
Indian assault upon a child, on whom they had
lixed their eyes, to his no small affright and con-
sternation ; — or else dart out of the house, and
take to their heels in such a direction, as their
whims might incline them. Conlinement they
could ill endure at first ; and so long as they
did nothing but create disorder, (and that they
did very effectually) they were indulged — until
by degrees, they became used to discipline, and
began to learn. Their first attempts by imitation
to enunciate the names of the letters of the
iioman alphabet, were quite amusing — so difficult
was it for them to form their tongue and other
organs to the proper shapes. If the children of
the school laughed, (as there was some apology
for doing) these boys would sometimes cast a
contemptuous roll of the eye over the little
assembly, and then leaving an '* Utnph .'" behind
them, would dart out of the house, in resent-
ment ; — all which was patiently endured by the
master. For he was particularly instructed not
to use compulsion. They ultimately became
attentive and good boys, both in school and in
the family, where they were cherished ; — the
eldest, however, always manifesting more tract-
ableness and docility of the two. They gradually
dropped their Indian dress and manners, and

i'^l

iS.

h 'A

.It!::;!. ' '

^M'

u>\

MARLY HISTORY OT TIIK

adopted those of tlieir new society. The ehlest,
as he ^lew up, hecanie a universal favourite, was
extensively introduced into the hest society of
New England; — was cherished by every body,
as a most proniisin<,' youth ; — and all began to
predict that he would ultimately be of great
service to his own nation, and to the Indian
tribes. For this purpose, his love of his own
people was carefully cherished by all his patrons,
who were very numerous, and among the best
and most influential men of the country. No
pains or expense were spared to enlarge his
mind, cultivate his best feelings, and lit him for
a high destiny. And the gradual and rapid
developements of his intellect and moral virtues,
and the improvement of his manners, abundantly
satisfied and rewarded the hopes and pains ex-
hausted upon him. In addition to all the
rest, and as the highest finish of his character,
he was observed to embrace and cherish with
great sincerity and earnestness, the radical and
practical principles of Christian piety, lie grew
up a gentleman and a Christian.

For a time, during the last war between the
United States and Great Britain, his original
and benevolent patrons in New England, were
somewhat disappointed and grieved, in con-
sequence of his having attached himself, by

urv. r.F,r\/.r.Fi wim.iams.

temptations held out to liini, to the stall' of ilie
Anieiican army in tlie north. In consichM'ation
of Ills known abilities and of iiis eonnexion with
the Indian tribes in Canada, which were the
auxiliaries and more or le>s employed in the
British army, his service's were deemed impor-
tant, by the Americans, to counteract the hostile
influence of these tribes on the northern frontier.
In the battle of IMattsburi:, himself and his
brother John sustained conspicuous and useful
parts — althouiih the enifagement did not amount
to much besides skirmishin«r, iu consecjuence of
the decisive action on Lake Chami)lain, in tlie
face of Plattsbur<^, which caused the sudden
retreat of the British forces from before the
town into Canada.

Peace beinu concluded, and the natural excite-
ments of a campaign subsiding in his mind, Mr.
^^ illiams's feelings settled down again into their
former condition of repose and benevolent regard
for the race, from which he sprung, and to which
he was allied, not only by the ties of nature, but
by a long cherished and ever wakeful regard for
their highest and best interests. He felt, that
Providence had called him to consecrate his
energies, his influence, and superior advantages, to
their welfare ; — and he fondly indulged the hope,
that he was destined to elevate their condition.

|!l

*■

REV. ELEAZER WILLIAMS.

It was not lon<( before he was introduced and
commended to Bisliop Ilobart, of New York,
and received orders in tlie Cln'istian ministrv
from under liis iiand, to be employed in that
capacity among tlie Indian tribes. He com-
menced his labours in 1815, with the Oneida.s,
at Oneida Castle, near Utica, in the State ot
New York.

CHAPTER XVII.

REV. MR. WILLIAMS AT GREEN BAY; IMPORT-
ANCE OF HIS RELATIONS THERE, &c.

It happened, that the Rev. Mk*. Williams, the
subject of the foregoing Chapter, was at the head
of all the movements of the New York Indians,
which induced them to emigrate, and dnally
planted them in the North-West Territory.
Being himself a chief, and more accustomed to
the world than his brethren, and well qualified
for business, he always took the lead in all the
negotiations with the general Government. Like
Moses of old, he was captain of the tribes,
religiously and politically. Like Joshua, he
went into the promised land with his own people,
and settled them there ; and stationed himself in
tlie midst of them, still their pastor and leader.
He liad "succeeded in introducing into the North-
West Territory, and settling on the banks and
near the mouth of Fox River, two of the most
cultivated and most important of the New York

KJS

RI.V. MU. WILLIAMS

tribes: — tlie Oneidas and Stockbridgcs — with
every prospect, if things had gone on well, of
bringing all liie rest after them. Mr. Williams
had indulged tlie pleasing hope ol' instituting,
under the protection and patronage, pledged by
the Government of the United States, a new and
bright era in the history of American Aborigines.
His public character and i)rivate worth had not
only given him a well-earned and merited ascen-
dancy among the Indians ; but a hiirh and com-
manding influence with the Government. He
wa^ widely known, well esteemed, and universally
respected. And liis appearance and manners,
from childhood accustomed to the world in all
its various shapes, portly in person, dignified in
mien, condescending, courteous, andaflkble — and
withal developing equally the European and
Indian character, in all the expressions of his
countenance, and in theexhibitionsof liis temper —
showed him at once a man made for respect and
influence.

Soon after Mr. Williams'^ removal to Green
Bay, he married a daughter of a Mr. Jordon of
that settlement, himself a Frenchman, and his
wife a pure Indian, of the Menomenie tribe in
that region. In this particular, viz. of having
an equal share of European blood, Mr. Williams
and his wife were alike. And in all the excel-

AT GREEN RAY.

1G9

lencies, wliich adorn the female character, Mrs.
WiUiams was not inferior to her hushantl, as
a man.

Although myself and Mr. Williams had hcen a
long time separate, and had not met more than
once, and that only for a few moments, from
180() to 18.'3(), we yet had all the reasons,
characteristic of the romantic attachments of our
earliest years, to cherish the kindest afibctions
towards each other. We had kept the traces of
each other's history in the meantime, and each
had rejoiced in the other's welfare; and it was as
great mutual pleasure, as it was unexpected, to
meet once more on such inte^'esting ground; and
on an occasion so interesting, as that, which had
brought me to Green Bay, in August 18.30.

The next day aUer our arrival at Green Bay,
I found myself in an Indian canoe, for the first
time in my life, paddled by two wild Indians,
ascending the Fox River, in company with Mr.
W^illiams to his residence, eight miles above the
settlement at the river's mouth. This unwonted
and novel condition, in such a bark {lite r all fj a
bark) and in such society, was associated with
many interesting recollections. And as may be
imagined, we talked over and lived again the
scenes of childhood. We talked and lived again
the years we had spent apart. We blessed and

VOL. I. I

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■N 1

170

DFXEITFULNESS OF

i -!

II.

.»

>■■ a

adored lliat Providence, ^vllicll had kept and
guided us through so many eventful scenes. We
wondered at the concurrence of events, wliich
had thus thrown us together, and ratlier dreamt
over it as a vision, than reahzed it as sober fact.

Our first snug adjustment, however, in tlie
canoe, is worthy of a passing remark. He wlio
has never stepped foot in tliis floating thing, must
take good heed, that he do not venture to .stand
upon his feet, and that he get himself, as soon as
convenient, "squat like a toad" {al'tas, like an
Indian) in the bottom of the canoe ; — else he will
find the light and fickle bark quickly rolling
and pitching him head-foremost into the watery
element. Nothing is more deceptive and trea-
cherous, than an Indian canoe, to him who is
unaccustomed to its whims. It is scarcely pos-
sible for such a person to get seated in it without
upsetting. And yet the Indian, who under-
stands its temper, wi'l so adjust himself and so
work his muscular^ powers, as to anticipate and
feel all its sudden and fitful movements, and defy
its instinctive and mischievous attempts to dis-
lodge him into the deep. He will stand, or walk,
or sit, as suits himself; — or mount with either
foot on either rim ; — and compel the vicious and
wayward thing to a quick obedience of his will.
It is itself as light as an airy nothing, and bounds

;' '",!■

THE INDIAN CANOi:.

171

over the to})s of the waves, like the skipping steps
of a fairy sprite, darting forward to gratify its own
humour. My own awkward attempts to adjust
myself in this whimsical thing, even after all the
benefit of advice, was the occasion of no little
merriment to the two wild Menomenies, who
were to be the paddlers, and to others of the
tribe, who witnessed the embarkation. Even
Mr. Williams, with all his politeness, could not
keep his gravity, but was forced to join heartily
in the merry peal, which showered upon me from
these simple children of nature. Side by side,
however, and at last, Mr. Williams and myself
sat in the bottom of the canoe, on a mat woven
from the stock of wild rice, and began to ascend
the Fox River, smooth and swift, as the Indians
dipped their paddles, and awakened the instinc-
tive life of their airy bark.

One of our paddlers was a man of forty, the
other a youth of eighteen — both painted, with
little covering, except a blanket carelessly pen-
dant from the shoulder, or belted round the
waist ; and a feather or two stuck in the hair, on
the crown of the head. The elder had his whiskey
bottle, and the younger his rifle lying at his feet.

" And here we are, ^^r. Williams. How
strange ! What a scene is tnis ! " —

" Indeed, Sir, and did we dream of it, when

.■.ii;

, J

m
kt

ITf?

DIALOGtE.

■'

we run around tlie brick school-house in the
street of Long Meadow, and phiyed our boyisli
pranks in that never-to-be-forgotten and dehght-
fid retreat?"

" And do you remember the dress you wore,
when first your father brought you from Canada —
and what infinite sport you and your brother
John made for tlie children of the school, by the
strangeness of your manners, and your Indian
whims, before you had learned to accommodate
yourselves to such a state of discipline ?"

" My memory," said Mr. Williams, tapping
liis forehead with his finger, as much like a
Frenchman, as an Indian, and winking a smile of
great significance — " my memory records those
scenes, as if they were the recurrence of yester-
day ; and I remember, too, that we did not take
your ridicule in very good part. And do you not
think that you, little fellows, were rather impo-
lite ? — And did we not give you a rap, or two, for
such disrespect?"

" Indeed, you made yourselves quite the terror
of the school, for a little. For nothing, you
know, is more frightful in story, to a white man's
child, than the thought of an Indian. He would
run from an Indian before he were hatched."

" And what have you heard lately of roy good
and venerable father Ely's family? Blessed be

ASCENT OF FOX RIVER.

i ft

their memory ! And what do I not owe tliem !
Some are in heaven ; and where arc the rest ?
And all my old friends and patrons in New
England — I cannot name them, they arc so
many :

" The Elys, all, as you may well believe, who
are not saints in heaven, arc on their way."

" I should be base, indeed — I could never re-
spect myself, to forget even for a day the family,
who took and cherished my childhood ; — and to
whom, under God, I owe all that I am more than
my brethren of the St. Regis Tribe, in Lower
Canada."

And much and various talk of early and later
days, of trifling and more important events, occu-
pied the hour or two, while the canoe was made
to stem the current, avd bore us along between
the wild and romantic shores of Fox River,
towards the humble and solitary log-cabin of the
Rev. Mr. Williams, perched upon the right bank,
ascending ; and skirted by what is called an oak-
openingj or more properly, an orchard of oaks,
scattered here and there, near enough for a shady
grove, but too distant to make a forest proper.
The beauty of Fox River and of its wooded
banks, is hardly to be exceeded by any thing of
the kind. Every thing is soft and picturesque to
the full satisfaction of the soul. The mind, in

. '1,

• 1 i' I

I (1 I

•('

I •' ■;

171

A DEKR.

contemplating the shifting scene, drinks in plea-
sure, as if from the current of the river of life.

A little incident in this excursion is perhaps
worthy of notice. As the canoe was gliding
smoothly along near the shore, a sudden agitation
of the bark summoned my attention to the young
man forward, who had dropped his paddle, and
grasped and fired his rifle at an object in the high
grass, under the bank, but invisible to any eye,
but that of an Indian; — and all so quick, that
one could hardly say, it had occupied time. The
rifle was discharged, before I could even look
up; and the Indian's fiery glance, and cry of —
" Umph!" followed a deer, as he leaped up the
bank, and bounded into the wood. The rifle, as
I have called it by mistake, was a shot-gun; —
and having been loaded only for waterfowl, could
efl'ect no more, than to pepper the poor animal,
and make him feel uncomfortable; and perhaps
extinguish the light of an eye. The young man
seemed greatly vexed to have lost his game.

After being made acquainted with Mrs. Wil-
liams, who set us refreshments, a walk was pro-
posed and taken, along the elevated brow of a
sort of amphitheatre, overlooking the river, and
enclosing a spacious and rich plain, a little above
the highest floods. It was indeed a beautiful
and commanding eminence — itself the margin of

¥i

MR. \villia:\iss plans.

I , >

anotlicr plain, stretching backwards, luulcr the
sombre and aj)parently boundless orchard of oaks.
*' Here," said Mr. VVilliams, *' on this spot and
along this line, I /lad fondly indulged the dream,
would one day, not far distant, be founded and
erected a literary and scientific seminary, for the
education of Indian youth. Next to the removal
and establishment of our eastern tribes, in these
delightful abodes of the North- West, and along
Fox River, and such a confirmation of our privi-
leges, as to afford a security for future exemption
from the incursions of the white man, I /tad con-
ceived and fondly cherished the project of this
institution. This wide and beautiful country teas
to be our inheritance, — in common with the tribes,
of whom we purchased, and with whom we had
entered into firm and friendly alliances, under
the guidance and auspices of the President and
Government of the United States. For the first
time in the history of our public injuries, and of
the successive ejectment« of our tribes from the
east to the west, in the progress of two centuries,
and of the gradual wasting away of whole nations,
as well as the constant diminution of these small
remnants, which still retain a name and exist-
ence— a fixed and permanent position was here
pledged to us, and seemed to be gained, without
fear of disturbance. Here opened to our imagi-

176

MR. WILLIAMS S ACCOUNT

i; «'

nation antl to our hope — and I niirjht add to our
sober judgment — a theatre for the regeneration of
our race. Here, as you see, we were naturally
divided by the great waters from the States, and
from all danger of collision with the whites ; at
the same time, that the American Government
had promised to spread over us the wings of its
protection, to secure us from those fatal dissen-
sions among ourselves, which had formerly cha-
racterised our history, and to extend unto us its
parental and fostering care. It had promised all
convenient aid to secure the civilization of the
wilder tribes, to amalgamate our feelings and our
interests, and make us one ; and ultimately to
raise us to a dignity and importance, which
might claim, either an independent and equal
place in the Federal Union, or a separate Govern-
ment in frieiidly alliance with the nation, which
had first depressed us, but afterwards atoned
their fault by restoring our rights, and making
us better than they found us. And you see,
there is no dreaming in all this. It was natural,
it was suitable, it was feasible. There was no
obstacle in the way, but the want of faith in
existing and solemn covenants. Where is the
nation on earth, whose remote ancestors, at
some former period, have not been even lower,
than we now are ? There is nothing wanting,

or IMS I'l.ANS.

177

but peace and public taith, tlie means of intellec-
tual and nioral culture, and the arts of civilization,
brought perpetually to bear on any peoj)le, how-
ever degraded, to elevate them to the highest
imaginable condition.

" Here, on this spot, [ had designed to found
an Institution, which might ulf" 'lately grow into
importance, and become the great centre of
education for the Aboriginal Tribes of North
America. All this land which you see, and
more, comprehending some thousands of acres,
luas mine, ceded by the tribes, as the reward of
my services, and vesting in my wife, in con-
sideration of claims through her father's family.
I had expended the last penny of my earthly
substance, and involved myself in debt, by the
personal sacrifices, indispensably incurred, in
accomplishing the great object of our removal
and settlement in this territory. And it was
deemed fair, not only for the claims of my wife,
but for my own, that I should receive this in-
demnification. And by the increasing value of
these lands, as the state of society among our
tribes should advance, I had hoped, not only to
provide for my family ; but still to be able to make
other and continued sacrifices, for the good of the
race, to which I belong; — and more especially to
push the project of this my favourite institution.

■i

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W-

178

MR. WILLIAMS S PLANS

. A I)

m- 11

i^irii

.,^ii

!! .i

** I am a Canadian by birth, you know ; — and
l)y the same right, if I choose to assert it, a
subject of the British Empire. Ahhongh I am
sorry to say, that tlie British Government of the
Canadas is even behind that of the United States,
in the proper, or at least, in tlie formal acknow-
ledgment of Indian rights. They have never
acknowledged their original tcn'itoi'ial rights,
nor their separate rights, as a distinct commu-
nity ; and of course have had no controversy, in
these particulars ; — as the growth and extension
of population in the Canadas have never yet
brought the parties into serious collision. But
in two things the British are far more noble : —
Fit sty They never look with contempt, nor even
with disrespect, on the colour of a mans skin,
merely because it is of a deeper shade than their
own. This is almost the peculiar vice of the
Americans ; and I need not say, that it is unbe-
coming. Nay — I am almost provoked to add,
what perhaps ill becomes me — that it is con-
temptible. And next, — The door is completely
open in the Canadas for the incorporation of the
Indians in all the rights and immunities of citizen-
ship ; — whereas in the States they are proscribed
by law — at least by custom, which amounts
to the same thing. In the Canadas an Indian
may rise to any office, and to any civil dignity,

1 on Tlir, IN 1)1 W RACK.

IT.)

accordin«^ to his iiu'rit and liis infliicncc. And in
the records of tlieir parliaments may be fouiul at
least the name of one IncUan, admitted to their
dehberations, and to the supreme rii;hts of legis-
hition.

** But I was going to say that, as we are here
upon tlic borders of the Canadas, and as tliese
provinces comprehend many and important In-
dian tribes, within their jurisdiction, and myself
being a Canadian by birtli, I had not confined
my views of Indian ameHoration and cuUivation
to those tribes alone, that are to be found within
the circle and in the territories of the States ;
but I have all along had my eye upon the Cana-
dian tribes. I love my father's house, and my
father's nation; and I know the generosity of the
British public — to whom I have meditated a
future appeal, in behalf of the interests of this
seminary, and of the tribes falling under the
jurisdiction of their Colonial Government, in
North America. I have had reasons to be per-
suaded, tliat they never would refuse tlieir pa-
tronage;— that their sympathies of benevolence
would kindle into a holy fervour, under the
prospects of such a hopeful field of generous
enterprise. And what, with the patronage of t!ie
Government and })eople of the United States, and
what, with the favour of the people of Great

180

MR. WILLIAMS S

'S ■

It'

mi A

Britain, I have not doubted — on condition of
the maintenance of good faith, in regard to the
pledges we had received, and which induced us
to leave our homes in New York, and come
to this region — I could not doubt, that my
project was rational., and that my hopes were
likely to be realized.

" But — what of all those bright and cheering
hopes now remains? It is already decided, as
you know, or will have occasion to know, in the
progress of the labours of this Commission from
Washington, who landed here yesterday, in com-
pany with you — that this territory is now a can-
didate for admission to the rank and privileges
of one of the Federal States. Public offices of
Government have already been planted at the
mouth of the river, in the seUlement of Green
Bay, which we left this morning, filled by men,
who are anticipating the opportunity of wielding
the destinies of this future commonwealth. Citi-
zens from the States are flocking in, occupying
the posts of trade, specuhating in the purchase of
lands, and selling whiskey to the wild Indians,
who fill this region ; — and thus corrupting their
morals and manners, and fast plunging them into
deeper degradation, and to final ruin. Did you
not see those naked and drunken Winebagoes,
who left the door of my cabin a few minutes ago.

■1.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

181

;

brandislii."^ their knives in a quarrel, actually
bleed'ng under the infliction of violence on each
other, and obliged to roll one of theii" number,
dead drunk, into the canoe, before they ccild
proceed up the river? In the bottom of that
canoe you saw also a keg of whiskey, the occa-
sion of this mischief; and it is that cause which
is destined to be the ruin of these tribes. Those
Indians came all the way from thirty miles uj)
this river, to the white settlement below, mereh'
to purchase that whiskey ; — for which, you ir.ay
be assured, they have paid dearly enough. For
the shopkeepers here do not trade with the
Indians, but for an enormous, an exorbitant
profit.

" This very land along the banks, and on
either side of this river, comprehending the Falls,
a few miles above, and which make an infinite
power for macliinery, down to the mouth of the
river, and far around on both sides of the heiv^ of
the bay; — comprehending, in short, the key of the
territory ; — and which we ourselves had purchased
of the native tribes in 1821-Ji2 — was formally
purchased again of the same tribes, in 18)i7, by a
commission from the General Government, in
contempt of our title. We are aware, that it is
pretended not to be in contempt of us — that it
was not intended to disregard, or disturb our

' U

I .

18;2

Mil. WILLIAMS S

I!?;

\\^

h«rf

III'' J*

contract — but only to purchase the chiim, which
those tribes still held over this territory, in
relation to the United States. But we cannot
understand this. As our contract was nif de under
the supervision of the President of the United
States, and received the official sancilv i of his
own hand and seal ; — and as the contract con-
veyed to us entire, and without reserve, for ever,
all the right and title of those tribes in the pre-
mises ; — we cannot comprehend, either the reason,
or propriety, that the Government should nego-
tiate with t/ietn fo»* "he land, and not with //.v,- —
unless the reason be simply this: — that they knew
we icould not sell, and that it is resolved to
impeach and disturb our claim. And rdthouuh
there has been no official ai;nouncement of such
intention, yet have we long time heard, and are
constantly hearing from private and irresponsible
sources, and sources which are not far from
being intimate with the public authorities — thaf
our purchases are invalid. Indeed, it is on this
ground alone, that all tlie noise and controversy
have arisen. So long as our title were allowed
to be good, there could be no controversy. It is
on this ground, that the native tribes have been
made dissatisfied, and alienated from us ; — and on
this ground, that the present Connnission lias
been sent up to force us to a compromise, and

8.' !■ .

DISAPPOINTMENT.

183

reduce us to limits, which will entirely defeat
all our objects in removing to this territory.
It is on this presumption, that you see the pubHc
offices, and the active and flourisiung white
settlement at the mouth of the river — none of
which have a right to be there, on the basis of
the faith, which has been solennily pledged to us.
We are invaded— we are soon to be surrounded —
and there is no hope for us. We have no
longer any influence over the native tribes.
They have been turned against us ; and they
know not that they have been turned against
themselves. The white citizens, at the mouth
of the river, are our enemies. They are employing
every possible endeavour to throw us into the
narrowest limits, and finally to root us out.

'' And besides all this, there are white men
here, who enjoy the credit of hunting up and
purchasing the pretended land claims of the old
French settlers, for trifling considerations ; and
rendering them certain and valuable, by forcing
them through the District Court of the United
States, established here, in a manner and by
means, which make us unhappy. And the very
ground on which you now stand, is liable to be
invaded tbr my ejectment, by such a process.
It was dear to me once, but I cannot now hold it
to the value of a song.

•I

■ M
I

■■,i

. '■• 5:-.; iY]\

I8i'

THE DISAPPOINTMENT.

'*Aiul is there any hope, tliink you? Tlw
lamp of hope has long since expired. We can
never move again. We Imve no courage. Our
tribes liave no courage. For where is the faith
on which we can rely? '

" You shall see the state of things in the
clevelopements of the sittings of this Commis-
sion.

■•*i1

h }■

he
an
'Lir
th,

is-

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE STOCKBRIDGE SETTLEMENT
ON FOX RIVER.

From Mr. Williams's, and in his company, I
proceeded the next day up Fox River, about
ten miles farther, to the settlement occupied
by the Stockbridge tribe, last from the State
of New York ; — but originally from Stock-
bridge, Massachusetts, from whicii place they
take their name. This, of course, will be seen
to be the second removal they have made, to be
freed from the white men.

Having, for some reasons, found their situation
uncomfortable in Massachusetts, or being other-
wise tempted, the Stockbridge tribe had, at an
early period, sold their original possessions,
and removed to the west, into a region, which
is now the heart of the State of New York; —
but which, at tliat time, afforded them the same
hopes of a retired seclusion, as those which
they indulged, when, less than ten years ago,
they came to Green Bay. The place of their

«i

186

THE STOCKBRIDGE TRIBE.

first retreat, was in the neighbourhood of other
tribes, where they hoped to enjoy, in perpetuity
and without disturbance, their own riglits and
their peculiar ways of living. But after a gene-
ration or two, they found themselves again sur-
rounded and invaded by the whites ; and as
before narrated, and for similar reasons, tliey
removed again to the banks of tlie Fox River,
in the North-West Territory.

As the most convenient way of developing the
present condition and character of this tribe, I
will here introduce a passage from my memo-
randa;— obsen'mg, that the term Kaiv/iaa/in,
the name of the place, from which the date was
made, means Falls, or rapids ; and that the
French epithet attached to it, which needs no
explanation, is employed to express the compa-
rative importance of these Falls, over another
smaller rapid a few miles below; — both of which,
by tlie application of special forces, may be as-
cended with the bateaux, used in navigating these
waters.

Grande Kaw/iaicU/i, Aug. IG, 1830.
I am now writing from the Mission-house of
the American Board, on Fox River, twenty miles
from its mouth, planted among the Stockbridge
Indians — who have been encouraged to settle
themselves here by the General Government,

THE STOCKBRIDGE TRIRE.

187

les
ttle

after having been disappointed of their chiims
on White River, Indiana. They number about
350 souls, and have probably made greater attain-
ments in the English language and manners, and
in the useful arts of civilized life, and also in the
Christian religion, than any other tribe of the
Aborigines on the continent ; — except only,
that the Brotherton Indians have so long used
English, as to have lost their mother tongue.
The probable reason, that the Brothertons have
dropped the language of their tribe, is, that
nearly all of them are higidy charged with En-
glish blood. But in the moral state of society,
and in general improvement, the Brothertons arc
far behind the Stockbridgcs. The Brothertohs
have not enjoyed the same uninterrupted suc-
cession of teachers of the Christian religion.

The Stockbridge Indians have heard the
preaching of Brainard and Edwards ; and have
enjoyed Christian privileges and cultivation, with
little interruption, for nearly ninety years. I
saw a Bible yesterday, safely kept in a sort of
ark, at their place of worship, (a remarkable
relic of Hebrew custom), printed at Oxford,
England, in 1717, of the largest and hnest type
I have ever seen ; except one shown to me two
years ago in the English Church at Montreal,
the last of which was said to be the largest and

«i ;

188

THE BIBLE PRESENTED

'.'•»"!

'i' r'l' :'«

fairest type of a Bible ever done in English.
From the resemblance of the two, I have reason
to believe, they are both of the same impression.
The Bible here is in two volumes, the largest
folio, two feet by eighteen inches, both together
weighing I should judge forty to fifty pounds,
with a superb frontispiece, and numerous plates,
equally elegant and splendid. On the external
of each volume is imprinted in large gilt capitals,
with the ancient mode of punctuation, the follow-
ing inscription : —

THE. GIFT. OF.
THE. REV. DR. FRANCIS. AYSCOUTH.

TO. THE.
INDIAN. CONGREGATION. AT. IIOUSATONNAC.
IN. NEW. ENGLAND.
MDCCXLV.

On the first blank page is the following cer-
tificate, I suppose in the hand-writing of the
person whose name is subscribed : —

" This, with another volume, containing the
Holy Bible, is the pious gift of the Rev. Dr.
Francis Ayscouth (Clerk of the Closet to His
Royal Highness, Frederick, Prince of Wales)
to the use of the congregation of Indians, at
or near Housatonnac, in the vast wilderness of
New England, who are at present under the

i't -'

BY DR. FRANCIS AYSCOITII.

1S{)

voluntary care and instruction of the learned and
religious Mr. John Sergeant, and is to remain
to the use of the successors of those Indians,
from generation to generation, as a testimony of
the said Doctor's great regard for the salvation
of their souls. And is over and ahove other
benefits, which he most cheerfully obtained for
the encouragement of the said ^ir. Sergeant,
and in favour of the said Indians, at the request
of their hearty friend and well-wisher,

" Thomas Goran."

" London, the '6\st of Dec. 1795."

I have conjectured, that the last date should
be 1745, in order to correspond with the inscrip-
tion on the outside. But perhaps the solution
may odierwise be obtained. I have not felt at
liberty to restore the correspondence, as the
characters, though in manuscript, are quite dis-
tinct and legible.

— " And is to remain to the use of those
Indians from generation to generation, &c."
And here it is, as bright and as perfect, as when
first it came from the hands of the pious donor ; —
and that not to prove, that it has not been used —
for it has been constantly used in public worship.
But it has been carefulhj used, and carefully
kept in the ark of the covenant ! It came from

I r'

190

RELIGIOUS CHARACTER

''■M:

W ' ■'

Old England to the *' Housatonnec, in the vast
wilderness of A^ew England." It was transported
with the tribe to the State of New York; — and for
aught I know, with all the sacerdotal solemnities
of their Hebrew fathers, in ancient days. And
it was again transported by the same religious
care to t/tis vast wilderness, of the North- West.
And here it is, a perpetual monument of their
fear of God, and of their love of his word and
ordinances. Their reverence for this volume
and for the ork, which contains it, is almost
superstitious. Nay, I had Jmost said — it is
idolatrous. But that would be unjust. While
the white Christians (Christians?) of Europe
have fallen into the most egregious and stupid
idolatry, these descendants of the ancient He-
brews, and all their brethren of the wildest
tribes, in all their wanderings, have never laid
their hands upon an idol — hr-'ve never worshipped
an idol. They have never worshipped the sun,
nor the moon, nor the stars, nor any image of
things in heaven, or earth. They have never
worshipped gods many; — but One invisible, un-
changeable, eternal Spirit! '' The Great Spirit!"
— as they always call him. But where else is the
people to be found, not Christian, except among
the scattered remnants of Judah and Benjamin,
who have not worshipped idols ?

^4-

'M^

or Tlir STOCK nillDGFS.

1J)1

.'if

Let the pious descenilants oftlic l^nglisli race,
both in Great Britain and America, he encouraged
to imitate iha Jail /i of tlie " Ueverenel Doctor
Francis Ayscoutli,"- — and of " tlie learned and
pious Mr. John Sergeant." For liere, in the
Stockbridge tribe, is tiieir reward. " From ge-
neration to generation," even under all the dis-
advantages of their condition, these Indians have
been growing ))etter and better, ever since they
were first blessed })y the prayers and labours of
those venerable men of God.

Yesterday was the Sabbath — and a good day it
was. I had never expected to come into this
wilderness, so called, and among these savages, a'o
esteemed, to enjoy a Christian Sabbath, without
witnessing a single impropriety , among a whole
people of this description ; — to see the congrega-
tion, the parents with their children, " and the
stranger within their gates," going up to the
house of God in company; seating themselves
with a reverence and decorum, that might shame
many communities, calling themselves civilized,
and professing Christianity ; listening with fixed
and unrelaxed attention to all the public services,
many of them demonstrating a thorough reli-
gious abstraction and absorption ; and when their
hearts and conscience were appealed to, in the
application of the subject of discourse, showing a

■M(

I a?

A SAHHATH AMONG

ffi

III

1. ■^^'

dcptli and (jiiickiiess of feeling, which agitatcil
their ])osom.s, and forced a passage throiigli
the watery channels of the eye. And Mien to
attend the Sahbath school, reduced to all the
order and discipline, which characterise the best
schools of this sort in the white settlements; —
superintended, indeed, ])y the Missionaries, but
employing the adult natives, as instructors, who
engaged in their work with a ready aptitude and
apparent satisfaction : — this, too, was a scene
unexpected and grateful beyond my power to
express. And all was done in the English lan-
guage, so pure, tliat if my eyes had been shut,
and I could liave forgotten where I was, my ears
would have assured me, that I was listening to
the common exercises of a Sabbath school among
the whites.

The building consecrated and employed for
these purposes, is ma '^ of unhewn logs, resting
upon each other from the foundation to the roof,
and dove-tailed at the angles ; forming not only
heavy and substantial walls, but strongly " com-
pacted together." The interstices are filled up
with a species of clay, or mud, mingled with straw
to secure its tenacity, and to exclude the wind and
storm. This, it may be understood, is the ordinary
mode of constructing houses in the new settle-
ments, until the inhabitants are able to erect

■i

THE STOCKBRlDfJES.

tor

JCt

saw-mills, and produce boards and other lumber,
essential to more comely edifices. I have been
gratified to remark, that this Indian settlement has
al, the conveniences, and is e(jually well done,
as settlements of the same age, and in similar
circumstances, in the States. This church, or
meeting-house, is planted in the midst and under
the overhanging trees of a wood, because it hap-
pens to be the geographical centre of the tribe ; —
and is also employed, as a common school-house,
on the week days. It will admit a congregation,
closely packed, of o(J0, or more — quite sufficient
for their purposes. It is delightful to see them
thus assembled, and for such a purpose, all
neatly dressed in a costume, about half-way be-
tween the European ftabit and that of the wild
tribes ; measuring not inaptly the degree of ttieir
civilization: — the women, for the most part, espe-
cially the matrons, wearing the old fashioned
English short gown and petticoat, with scarlet
gaiters, and buckskin moccasins, tastefully in-
wrought with beads, with the white man's beaver
hat, and some gaudy ribband for a band, which
often hangs pendant down the back, nearly to the
ground. Some of the younger females may be seen,
dressed nearly to the top of the English fashion —
always exhibiting, however, some laughable in-
congruities. The men seldom wear hats — and

VOL. I. K

••I

'*-i M

lit'.

104

INTLHPRETATION OF A SERMON'.

1',

r :

their dress also is ordinarily midway between the
European and Indian modes. The flaps of their
IVock hang out to meet the trowsers, or high
gaiters, which terminate halfway from the knee
to the hip bone, and which are supported by
strings attached to the upper garments. They
are generally closely girded by a sash o^ wampum
or beaded mantle, the ends of which are pendant,
like the sash of a military officer. The children
are set off in a show of slight variations from the
appearances of adults. As among civilized people,
the standing in society, the degrees of respect-
ability and domestic wealth, are marked in dress,
by varying degrees of richness and taste. Some
of the men, as well as women, are dressed in all
respects after the European plainer modes.

In the second, or afternoon service of yester-
day, the sermon of the preacher was interpreted,
as is always the practice in one half of the day,
for the benefit of a small portion of the tribe,
who do not understand English. This is a slow,
and a somewhat tedious mode of intercommuni-
cation. The process is simply this : as the
preacher did not understand Indian, he delivered
himself successively in short sentences, and
waited at the end of each for the interpreter to
present the thoughts, in his own tongue, to the

confrreufation. Or rather I

migLit say :

the

CHURCH MUSIC.

195

preacher rested where the current of thought
more naturally allowed a pause.

I had always understood, that the Indians are
good singers. It is an exercise, for which they
have great fondness. But the half had not h?en
told me. They seem all to be singers ; and the
mellowness and sweetness of their voices, to-
gether with the accuracy of their ear, and their
horror of discord, ensure the sweetest harmonies
in their chorus. This tribe have been so lonii
practised in the art of sacred music, and their
taste is so good in the selection of common tunes
and anthems, that they are surprisingly familiar
with the most extensive range of Clu'istian
psalmody. 1 heard about thirty of them last
evening, male and female, sing an hour and a
half without interruption, passing from one
piece to another without repetition, except as
requested ; — all done in good style of perform-
ance, (when we compare the ordinary choirs of
church singers, one with another) and in pure
English ; • — except occasionally, by particular
desire expressed, they sung in their own tongue.
They have many psalms and hymns translated
into the same metre, so that a part of the con-
gregation in public worship, for whom it is more
convenient, sing in th'jir own Ipnguage, simulta-
neously with those, who sing in English; — and

K 2

■M

,, -I

■; ti

IM ■•

•; ;

■^n

196

THE PARISH BEADLE.

all without confusion. You may recognise those,
wiio sing in Enghsh, or Indian, by the move-
ment of their hps. It seems impossible for
Indians, when they sing in chorus, to avoid a
simultaneous movement — which is never ex-
ecuted in churches of white people, where all
the congregation unite; — and not always in
choirs, that have had the best opportunities of
being trained. This unerring exactitude of
movement must be owing, I think, to a natural
superiority in the quickness and nicety of their
musical perceptions. I was compelled to award
these Indians the palm over the ordinary per-
formances of Christian psalmody, among the
whites.

I noticed yesterday two interesting features,
appertaining to the order of their public wor-
ship : — one was the staff and office of the
parish beadle, introduced, no doubt, by Mr.
John Sergeant, nearly a hundred years ago.
The staff, in the present instance, was a green
switch, about ten feet long, which the functionary
had cut from the wood, as he came to church ; —
and woe to the boy, that should play, or the
man, or woman, that should sleep, under his
watchful eye. The former was switched over
the ears with a briskness, which I should judge,
from the sound of its whizzing, must have made

HIS FUNCTIONS.

107

them tingle and burn for the rest of the tliy.
And when a man or woman was seen noddinjx,
the big end of the switch was turned up, and
made to thump violently against the stove-pipe
over head, till it rang like a bell, accompanied
with the startling cry from the beadle, in Indian:
*' Wake up, there /" — all to the no small annoy-
ance of the preacher ; — for it happened in the
middle of his sermon. But the preacher gained
at least the advantage of being heard by the
sleeper, as may well be imagined, after such
a summons. Now, although this may excite a
smile among the whites, who in these times,
have generally ^^bandoned this good sort of
discipline, yet it all passes off here by the
power of custom, with the utmost gravity, and
produces a very quickening and salutary effect.
The prerogatives of this functionary, as I per-
ceived, also extend to the keeping of order out
of doors, during the interval of public worship,
and while the congregation are assembling and
retiring ; so that no boy, or youth, dares offend
in his presence. And I am told there is no
partiality shown by this officer, even to his
father, or mother, or wife, or children ; and that
it is prudent even for the stranger, not to fall
asleep. Certain it is : I discovered no disposition
to levity among the youngsters, either within or

1 .i

: !

.$'■■

I ? 1 .-

1' 1

5 *

. t

198

A PRAYER-MEETING.

without the house. But all was decency and
gravity, comporting with the solemnities of the
day and the place.

The other interesting feature which I noticed
was : that when the benediction was pronounced,
tlie congregation all resumed their sittings, and
waited for those nearest the door to retire
gradually without crowding and bustle, the moral
effect of which was very pleasant. And th's, too,
not unlikely was a lesson taught them by
Mr. John Sergeant, ninety years ago.

In the evening, a prayer-meeting was held
at the mission-house; at which 1 had the
pleasure of hearing two Indians pray in their
native tongue, with a ready fluency, and with
great apparent fervour and importunity. There
were about fifty present : — and all kneeled
during the prayers. At the request of the
missionaries, I had addressed the Indians at
their place of public worship in the day, on
some of the common topics of religion. In
the evening, I spoke to them again, and told
them of their own interests, as a people ;
especially to watch and defend themselves and
their people against the evils of intemperance.
They were very attentive; and to my no small
surprise, when I had done, one of the chiefs
vose to reply to me, apologized for not speaking

III

liT:

AN INDIAN-SPEECH.

19!)

in English, and called upon an interpreter. It
may be observed, that he could speak English,
as well as the man whom he selected and ])ut
forward lor that purpose. But whenever Indians
hold a public conference with strangers, they
seem to like a little of the pomp and circum-
star ^e of formality. And it does in fact give
weight and importance to the interview.

The venerable chief thanked. God, that I had
come so far to visit them ; and for all the good
words 1 had spoken to them that day and even-
ing. He thanked all the well-wishers and bene-
factors of the Indians among the white people.
He reflected, with great feeling, upon the good-
ness of God, in having put it in the hearts of
his own people far over the great and salt lake
(the Atlantic) to send them a Bible, (alluding to
the Bible presented by Dr. Ayscouth) and a
learned and good man (Mr. Sergeant) to tell the
Indians all that was in it, and teach their children
how to read it; — and for turning the hearts of
Christian white people so long time to their
spiritual welfare. The wickedness of man, he
said, was very great, and they (the Indians) had
abused their privileges, and God had not taken
them away. [Here I thought he might well
have indulged in reproaches for the injuries
done them by white men. But no — he was too

, t

. * ■

f "

■ .»

200

IN DIAN-POLITENESS.

l^fp

' {

noble — too grateful.] He said his heart was
penetrated, (laying his hand upon his heart)
when I spoke to them of the evils and dangers
of intemperance ; — and declared, they were ready
to do all in their power to keep their people
from the use of ardent spirits ; — -and concluded
in the usual manner of an Indian oration : " I
have no more to say " — and then approached and
gave me his hand.

I do not pretend to recite his speech, but have
merely indicated some of its leading thoughts.
I found myself unexpectedly listening to an elo-
quent impromptu of an Indian chief, formally
and most respectfully addressed to myself, in
presence of an assembly of Indians ; — an event
I had never anticipated ; — and with a manner
and tone of voice, which spoke directly from the
heart. All that I had heard in report, or ima-
gined of Indian speeches and of their wild
oratory, instantaneously rushed upon my mind ;
and I saw the living reality before me, not to
detract from, but only to confirm, the vividness
of the romantic ideal. I have been constrained
to feel, that the deference and respect, which the
Indian pays to a guest, when put upon the inter-
change of good feeling, is unrivalled. No art
of civilized life and manners can pretend to keep
company with his politeness. The white man

THE INTLRESTING SABBATH.

'20 \

feels his littleness, and bows in reverence of such
moral greatness and dignity of character.

On the whole, the Sabbath I have spent at
the Grande Kawkawlin, is one I can never
forget. While listening to the songs of Zion,
so sweetly attuned by these children of tlie
forest, last evening, accompanied with the sug-
gestions of the occasion, and its circumstance^,
I found myself involuntarily and repeatedly ex-
claiming within: — Have I lived so long and
enjoyed so many privileges, to come here where
it is supposed no such privileges are had, to
enjoy a higher zest and nobler interchange of
religious sympathy, than I can remember to have
felt even in the most favo'U'ed gardens of Chris-
tian culture ? Many times did I think, in the
midst of the scenes brought before me yesterday:
could the whole Christian world see and hear
thl^;, they would forget all else they were doing,
and run, and come bending over these guileless
children of the wilderness, like the angels of
heaven, who delight in errands of mercy, and
ne^'er leave them, till they were all raijed to that
dignity and to those hopes of man, which the
light and ordinances of Christianity are designed
and calculated to confer. Such a sight would
open their hearts and all their treasures;, and
nothing methinks would be wanting to advance

202

REFLECTIONS ON THE SCENE.

i ;.';

and consummate a design so benevolent and
glorious. With what expressions of good feel-
ing and gratitude do these Indians, old and
young, male itnd female, crowd forward, without
waiting for the forms of introduction, to shake
hands with a stranger, whom they believe to be
kind towards them ! What a rebuke to the re-
served and distant etiquette of that, which is
claimed to be a more refined condition ! And
never did a Christian people cherish their pastor
with kinder affections, or kinder offices, than
these do their missionaries.

And are these the people, who, as the white
men say, can never be cultivated? — these the
people to be driven from one place to another,
•' till they have no rest for the sole of their
foot?" — till they are corapellod "in the morning
to say — would God it were evening — and in the
evening, would God it were morning ? " — whom
it is right to rob, a virtue to abuse, and pardon-
able to have annihilated ?

CIIAPTEll XIX.

THE ONi:iDA SETTLEMKNT AT DICK CEI'EK,
UNDER THE CA OF THE REV. MR. WIL-

LIAMS, &.C.

While the Stockbridges had planted their
tribe at the Grande KawkawUn, on the east
bank of Fox River, and in the course of some
half- dozen years, reared a flourishing settle -
nient; built houses and barns in the usual style
of the white settlements in similar circumstancej ;
cleared away portions of the fore&t, and reduced
their farms to an interesting state of improve-
ment ; organized and brought into salutary ope-
ration a political and civil economy ; established
schools and the ordinances of Christianity ;
began to improve the water - power opposite
their village by the erection of mills and ':i.-i-
chinery ; — exhibiting^ in a word, a most inte-
resting jj/iash' of civilization, along with the
purest morals, under the simplest manners :--
their state of society being rather of the patri-
archal form, and governed by hereditary chiefs,

■ .1

'ii.s|g

li!!!:'

204

FLOURISHING CONDITION OF

!•

iv't

I'l ■

(1; =. ■.:}*

Hi '^

life, ,,

'i'^ ■I

according to the iramemorial custom of Indian
tribes ; — contemporaneously with the establish-
ment of this settlement, the OneidaSt under the
auspices of the Rev. Mr. Williams and his asso-
ciate chiefs, had planted themselves at Duck
Creek, on the west of the river, eight miles from
its mouth, and twenty in a northerly direction
from the Stockbridges. The Duck Creek settle-
ment is five miles in retreat from the line of Fox
River, situate on a small stream, from which it
is named. The Oneida tribe, if my notes are
correct, is somewhat more numerous than the
Stockbridge, amounting perhaps to seven or
eight hundred. The English language is not
in common use among them, although it is
being cultivated in their schools, along with their
own. The Rev. Mr. Williams, their Christian
pastor, preaches to them uniformly in their native
tongue. Their improvements are equally inte-
resting, and of the same general character, with
those of the Stockbridges. They have farms,
dwelling-houses, school -houses, barns, and in
1830 were building a very decent Christian
Church, which is doubtless finished before this,
and appropriated to its holy uses. The traveller,
as he passes their former settlement, in Oneida
County, State of New York, discovers a little
distance from the main road on the south, a

)

THE ONEIDAS AT DUCK CREEK.

203

beautiful white church, with its spire pointing to
the heavens. It was built by these Oneidas,
and there they worshipped the white man's God,
and adored the white man's Saviour, before they
were compelled to leave it behind them, and
build another in this distant region.

Mr. Williams's house, as before noticed, stands
alone, on the margin of Fox River, in the midst
of the lands, tlie title of which would have vested
in his wife, but for the unrighteous suits at law,
which are likely to eject him, and leave him desti-
tute ; — lands, which would not only provide well
for his family, if suffered to be retained by him,
but a portion of them was marked out and conse-
crated in his purpose, as the site of a future and
most important literary and scientific Institution,
for the education of Indian youth. And when
we reflect upon the nobleness of this purpose,
its enlarged scope, and the apparent feasibility of
the plan, with the prospects under which it was
conceived ; when we regard the character of the
man, who formed the design, and his means of
influence to carry it into execution, had the ter-
ritory remained undisturbed ; when we think,
that he is probably the only man of the ago, who
could lead in such an enterprise, with promise of
its ultimate and full consummation ; and that with
the blasting of his hopes, and the breaking down

11 1

QOG

DI.SCOlJRA(iING PROSPECTS

of his courage, are likely to come the bligluin;r
of all hope and the prostration of all courage
among those tribes, for their future elevation
and importance ; — we cannot look upon the un-
toward events, which have befallen the New York
Indians, since their removal to that quarter, but
with feelings of deep and unutterable regret. The
historian of the rise and fall of empires ordinarily
points out to us the nice and critical events, on
which was suspended their weal, or woe. And I
am almost enough inclined to take up the burden
and lamentations of a prophet, over the events now
under consideration, and say: — I know not iiow
the Indian tribes of that region can rise above this
wreck of their hopes. There is a way, ii.deed,
hereafter to be considered, which leaves a glim-
mering of hope behind — but involving at the same
time numerous contingencies of deep anxiety; —
a way, which must necessarily transfer the theatre,
and defer the consummation of the object. Here,
in the North- West Territory, the door is for ever
closed. These once hopeful instruments, and
this individual man, will have laboured in vain —
except, as the disclosure and ascertainment of
their injuries shall awaken a repentance and a
sympathy in the bosom of that community, which
ought, long ago, to liave thrown in the shield
of its protection, and saved the Indians from

h: i

OF THE INDIANS.

207

these disasters. And even then, such a man, as
Mr. Williams, cannot be raisnd from the grave.
Or, if he should be among the living, (which is
not very probable) a state of hcaltli worn out, and
a constitution broken down, by these cares ; —
a mind, originally vigorous and heroic, but the
courage of which has been well nigh subdued by
this irresistible accumulation of calamity over the
heads of his race -would require little less than
a miracle to fit him to cherish again the hopes,
and again to wield the burden of such an enter-
prise^ as he must have the credit of having once
conceived. May a Plurnix yet arise from the
ashes of his hopes consumed, and wing its way
to a brighter destiny.

For the information of the reader, it is suitable
to acquaint him yet farther with the relations of
the New York Indians to their wilder brethren
of the North-West, in consequence of their pur-
chase and removal — and also with the unex-
pected encroachments they suffered from the
whites — before we enter upon the doings of the
Commissioners.

Although there are several nations (as the
Indian tribes are often called) in the North-West,
yet as two only occupied and claimed the terri-
tory, where the New York Indians chose to settle,

.r I

, I

ii:

208

DISTURBANCE OF THE

their negotiations were principally confined to
those tribes — viz. the Menomenies and Wlnne-
bagoes. It was of these nations they purchased,
and with them, that they entered into friendly
alliances and solemn covenants, under the aus-
pices of Government in 1821-22. They had
succeeded in cultivating friendship, and in per-
suading the native tribes to abandon their wild
habits, and adopt the arts and customs of civilized
life ; — so far, as to gain their consent, and the
manifestation of an earnest purpose ; — a^ Jiough
it is well understood, that a transition from bar-
barism to civilization, is never instantaneous, but
the process of time, and pains, and slow degrees.
Such was a prominent object of this alliance, both
with the Government originally, and with the New
York Indians ; and such was the agreement and
understanding of the parties. Such was the pro-
spect in the outset, and in the first stages of the
opera*^ion of this alliance ; and there is no reason
to suppose, that it would have been interrupted,
but for the interference of white men, who were
interested in breaking up these relations, and in
leading on the parties to open rupture and irre-
concileable hostility. And they have succeeded
but too well. The Menomeiiies and Winneba-
goes, once friendly, are now the implacable
enemies of their brethren from the East. They

{ w.

INDIAN RELATIONS.

209

? >;:'(

have been persuaded, that the New York Indians
came there, not to help the North-West Tribes,
and improve their condition, as professed ;— but to
overreach and root them out. The old French
settlers have been brought into the league, not
only by their influence, but by being encouraged
to assert vexatious claims over Indian lands, and
bring actions for ejectment ; — or to sell their
claims to those, who know better how to manage
them. White citizens from the States have
flocked in, to fill the public offices, to occupy
the posts of trade, and to anticipate the means of
future wealth, which an organized and indepen-
dent Government will afford them ; — all alike
interested in the ejectment of their immediate
predecessors ; — and all this in violation of the
original understanding between the New York
Indians and the General Government. And as
white men are always superior to Indians, in all
matters of business, in political management, and
in commercial transactions ; so in the present
instance have they thoroughly established them -
selves by converting all possible influences in
their own favour, and against their opponents.
The Menomenies and Winnebagoes have been
put forward to contest with the tribes from New
York — to express their dissatisfactions to their
great Father, the President — to impeach the

•ii

H L

! ■

210

PROSPECTS OF

Covenants, under which they had sohl their
lands — to ask for special Commissions to inves-
tigate and settle the disputes ; — and the result,
the meanwhile, heing anticipated, the territory
has been occupied, and the white settlements
commenced, as if no question, as to right, were
pending, and no doubt entertained of the future
removal of the Indians. And while I am writin»T
these pages I have learned, that three of the
most considerable tribes of the Nordi-West
Territory, viz. the Winnebagoes, the Saukes, and
the Foxes, have already been persuaded to sell
their lands to the United States, and agreed to
go beyond the Mississippi. The other wild
tribes, no doubt, will soon follow them ; — and
the New York Indians will find themselves in
the same situation, as they were before they
removed. That is : — surrounded by the whites,
and pe^'mitted to retain such reservations of
land, as will not materially interfere with ihe
political designs of those, who have thrown
them within such narrow limits. It will be
understood, then, that the tribes more imme-
diately brought into controversy with the New
York Indians, were the Winnebagoes and Me-
nomenies ; who in the wdiole affair have obeyed
the instructions of those interested white people,
that had gained an ascendency over them, for

'i('''-i-

THESE TRIBES.

211

:■)

'->

their own purposes. " These poor Menomenies
and Winnehagoes," it was said, " have been
overreached, and ro])bed of their liunting and
fishing grounds, by their more crafty brethren
from New York. We wish to see their lands
restored." For what ? The lionest answer would
have been : — *' That we may get them ourselves."
These men felt a great deal of sympadiy for the
wild tribes, so long as their lands were under
the control of Indians, wlio had learned, by
experience, how to keep them from the white
man. That is : — They had learned how, so far
as any dependence was to be put in covenants.
But the moment this country is wrested from
the New York Indians, all their tender scruples
vanish ; and they are ready to enter immediately
into negotiations, that shall place the same lands
in their own power, and compel the former pos-
sessors to retire into an unknown wilderness !
** But, they say, we give them a fair and honour-
able price." What? The value in the market
of the white man ? The price negotiated for
some millions of acres in this very territory, in
1832, was less than the half of a farthing per
acre ! ! ! " But, we give them another country."
Where is it ? And what is it ? And, if it be
good for any thing, how long will they be per-
mitted to stay there ?

ii'i

I ■

CHAPTER XX.

MANNER OF CALLING THE COUNCIL AND THE
PREPARATIONS.

It had occupied from twelve to fifteen days,
after the arrival of the Commissioners at Green
Bay, to convene the public Council ordered and
contemplated. The day fixed for organizing its
sessions was the 24th of August. In the mean
time runners, as they are called among In-
dians, and as in fact they are, (couriers) were
despatched to all the tribes interested in the pub-
lic deliberations about to be opened, to notify
them of the time, place, and object of the Con-
vention. They were formally served with copies
of letters from vheir great Father, the President
of the United States, assuring them of his good
wishes, and of his desire to bring all their dis-
putes to an amicable and satisfactory adjustment;
and that for this purpose he had sent Erastus
Root, John T. Mason, and James M'Call, good

t-i

MANNER OF CALLING THE COUNCIL. Q\S

and true men, to hold a tafk* with his children
in the North-West, who had quarrelled among
themselves, and asked their great Father's media-
tions;— to hear all they might have to say on
either side; — to recommend peace and a just
settlement of their disputes ; — to remove all occa-
sions of the improper interference of their great
Father's white children ; — and then to come back
to the Council-house of the great nation at
Washington, and say : " All the sores are healed.'*
And this would give their great Father much
happiness.

Such was the substance of the notices sent to
the chiefs of the tribes, as in a plural number of
instances I heard them delivered and inter-
preted ; — kind enough certainly, and very pro-
raising. And these notices w^re accompanied by
a certified copy of the particular instructions,
given to the Commissioners, and investing them
with their powers; — setting forth the under-
standing of the case in that department of Go-
vernment at W^ashington, whose duty it is to
superintend this sort of business ; — prescribing
the course of procedure, and controlling the
result.

As a question afterwards arose, whether it was

• Indian name of conference.

•I'.

?::'S.

214

INSTRUCTIONS OF

proper thus to have made these instructions
public, and some regret was manifested by the
Commissioners, that they had done so, instead of
keeping tliem in their own power, I shall take
no advantage of an official inadvertence, which
was afterwards regretted by the board of Com-
missioners. I have already recognized the bear-
ings of these instructions in another place. As
r have sufficient reasons to believe, that not-
withstanding they had the formal sanction of the
Government, the construction of them was yet
resigned to a private discretion, which was pre-
viously inclined to what I esteem to be the wrong
side, I am not ambitious to expose them. This
supposed history of the instructions may, per-
haps, save the conscience of the highest autho-
rities, in this particular item. They did not
understand the case ; and it was couveniejit to
leave the matter in hands, where it ought not to
have been left. But, whatever results might
come, the President of the United States would of
course be compromitted, and must sanction them.
Nor would I insinuate, that there was any
thing in these instructions, more or less, than,
that, in the first place: — they were based upon
incorrect information, and assumed facts, which
had had no existence ;• — and next, that they left
no power with the Commissioners to do right.

*f.

THE COMMISSIONERS

215

and obliged them to do wrong, if they did any
thing.

Even if the Commissioners had ])een left to
their own mu'estricted discretion, it was no easv
matter for them to come at the right of the case.
There were moral obstacles in their way : they
were in the confidence of an administration, the
general policy of which, in regard to the Indians,
was known to be : — to throw them all west of
the JMississippi. They must have some respect,
therefore, to the trust, which had been reposed
in them by supreme authority. And next: — the
influence of the North-West, in support of the
administration, to which the Commissioners were
devoted, was worth something. Theij nnist not
be asiounded by the manifestation of a determi-
nation in the Commissioners to restore the
original rights of the Indians ; — or to assume, as
a basis of their deliberations, the first covenants
between the New York Indians and the wild
tribes of the North-West Territory. That would
never do. The Green Bay settlement of whites
had already been commenced. Men, too im-
portant to the party in power, to be despised,
were already phmtcd there ; and had a great
interest at stake in the organization of the North-
West Territory into a separate government. To
think, therefore, of throwing a })ar in their way.

i-i'

'11

I :'i

216 DIFFICULTIES OF THE COMMISSION.

and circumventing their designs, would be run-
ning a risk, which could not conveniently be
hazarded. It was prudent, therefore, to assume,
that this territory must bee ime a separate State ; —
and that nothing must be done by this Commis-
sion, that would interfere with such a purpose.

Besides : — the confusion and contradiction of
testimony, while opening their ears to all parties,
would naturally afford abundant materials of an
apology for pursuing a middle course — and of
swerving even towards that side, which it might
be deemed most important to please. And al-
though their decisions, controlled by such consi-
derations, might not be a final setdement of the
dispute ; yet they would afford some plausibility
of defence against the complaints of either party,
and leave open the door for the consummation of
the designs of only one; — and which that one
might be, it is unnecessary to say.

It was curious, and in no small degree inte-
resting, to observe the arrangements making
among the Indians for the public Convocation of
the 24tn of August. Some several days before-
hand, Indian canoes were seen floating and
gliding along on the placid bosom of Fox River,
part of them coming down the current from the
south and west, and part coming up from the

GETTING UP OF THE ENCAMPMENT. QV

shores of the Bay, towards the phice of rendez-
vous, near Fort Howard, on tlie north hank
and some four or five miles from the moutli of
the river, in the heart of what is ealled the set-
tlement of Green Bay : — all filled with men,
women, and children, and with tackle, not for
war, hut to huild lodges. In other words, they
brought their families, theii houses, and all their
furniture of life, with them. For the last two or
three days previous, the number flocking in
greatly augmented ; — and the very last day before
the 2kh was a time of great busde and activity.
The river literally swarmed with canoes. And
all along its banks on either sitle, within a
mile of the point fixed upon to hold the Council,
lodges of Indians might be seen, sinfjle or in
clusters, teeming with their peculiar and variou?^
population of men, women, children, dogs, pet
bears, pet foxes, &c. ^vc. It is understood, of
course, that I am now speaking of wihl Indians.
Those belonging t > the same tribe manifested a
disposition to concentrate at one point, aiul
maintain the exclusive occupancy of the position.^
The Menomenians took up their position on
the plain behind the fort, on the north bank of
the river ; — and there in the course of two or
three days built a town. For so it seemed — and
so it was — a town of Indian lodges, grouped and

VOL. I. L

ti'

(

218

MODES OF DRESS,

i >■$'•'

^-■iir':

thrown togetlier without any order, every new
comer settin^j up his tent, as near to those already
established, as possible ; until many acres of the
plain were completely covered, and exhibited a
rare spectacle to the eye. An Indian lodge is
neither larger, nor higher, than a soldier's tent —
it is itself properly a tent; and is as soon taken
down and as soon set up. The fashion and show
of it are as unsightly as can well be imagined —
covered with large sheets of bircli bark, and
encircled by a wall composed perhaps of a yard-
wide matting, woven from some coarse vegetable
substance, not unlike the bulrush. Some of the
lodges are entirely open to the weather. The
ground is their floor and their bed, except as
some of them can afford a piece of matting; —
a blanket the ordinary and principal article of
clothing, except as parts of the person are con-
cealed by some slight and loose articles of undress.
Females, that can afford it, are fond of gaudy
and glaring calicoes, for a short gown ; and will
tie around them a yard square of blue woollen, for
a petticoat, without a stitch bestowed upon it;
the list, or border, running around the bottom,
being regarded as ornamental. The addition of
a pair of scarlet gaiters, buck-skin moccasins, a
string of beads, and beaver hat, would make a
perfect lady. But few are seen making such an

A CITY OF INDIAN LODGES.

2U)

Ml
'I

it;
)m,

of
a
a

extravagant show. Displays of this sort beh)ng
to the privileged orders.

But I was speaking of this town of the
Menomenies, which so suddenly, :ind so much
like enchantment sprung into being before our
eyes, on the north bank of Fox Kiver. 1 rose
one morning a little after the sun, having lodged
on the opposite bank ; and as the clouds of fog,
resting upon the river, began to break and tioat
away, my eye caught, through the shifting open-
ings of the mist, o glance or two of what seemed
a great city, reflecting the rays of the morning
sun ; and of the lazy columns of smoke, issuing
from countless chimnies : — all for the moment a
perfect illusion. The fog was soon gone — and
lo ! it was the Menomenie city of lodges ! To
visit them, and go among them, and see how
they live, does not present their condition as at
all enviable. Wild Indians are generally an
indolent, sordid, and filthy race — sunk into some
of the lowest conditions of barbarism.

The Winnebagoes, for the most part, made
their encampment on the south side of the rivei-,
not differing materially from those of the Meno-
menies, except in not being so extensive. The
whole number of Indians collected on this occa-
sion was perhaps a little less ixian t/nee thou-
sand; — it being intended only as a convocation

1. 2

' !

nfi

hi-

i» \

0.)()

Tin: DTMORALIZINfi INFLri;N(r.

of the cliiofs But curiosity, and the liopc ot
participating:^ in the «^ratuitous (Hstrihutions of
some food, and whiskey, and triflin*^ articles,
wliich are conunonly made by the (iovernment
on sucli occasions, liad brouglit tliem to^^etlier.
It is lunniliatinfT and painful to he ohli<i:ed to
witness the sordid passion of the wild Indian,
which not only allows him to receive a gift from
the hand of a white man ; but which, like the
hungry spaniel, causes him to jump at the veriest
and vilest crumb, which the white man throws at
his feet. It shows but too well, how nmch and how
altogether the Indian is in the white man's power,
I have 1)een })ainfully struck and often deeply
affected, at the proofs I liad at Green Bay, of
the extreme and unguarded susceptibility of the
Indians, of being injured in morals and manners,
and of being precipitated to irretrievable ruin, by
intercourse with vicious and unprincipled white
men. To make a gain of their simplicity, is by
no means the greatest oflence. The dishonour
sometimes done to the fairest of their women, is
frightful. If the Government had any suitable
parental care over the Indians, whom it calls
children ; and calls them so, I think, more in
mockery, than in propriety ; and whose filial
confidence it inspires only to gain advantage over
tlicir credulity; (I declare it as a consequence,

OF TIIKSi: I'l lU.K ( (UNC ir.s.

Oil I

ratlicr tlian an intent) it would coi'taiiily never
authorise tliese public occasions. Tlu-y are de-
inoralisinti" beyond all estimation — feari'ully so. It
is not siin])ly a season of dissipation it is a time
of absolute and uninterrupted riot — a riot of
drunkenness and debauchery.

It luis been said, that the Indian is constitu-
tionally adapted to drunkenness, when he can
get the means, and to its consecpient vices and
ruin ; and that tlicre is no use in trying to save
him. They are a race devoted to the doom of
annihilation. In other words :- the sooner there
is an end of them, the better;— as they occupy
ground, which can be more usefully appropriated.
I would not ascribe this shocking morality — this
inhumanity — this sentiment, which proves the
man, who utters it, more a savage and ruthless
barbarian, than the race which he proscribes ; —
no, I would not ascribe it to any considerable
portion of a community. But yet — it has been
said. And more : it is a leaven of no inconsider-
able influence. I would be glad to believe, that
it has no inliuence with men, wlio are to be found
in high places.

Is it necessary to say, tliat this charge is as
egregiously unphilosophical, as it is atrociously
cruel and libellous ? I have called it inhuman ;
it is all tliat : it is barbarous. The Indian, in

'(,

2^2

THE INDIAN S LOVE

! (

Ik i

fi .

his wild condition, is an uncultivated and simple
child of nature ; and in addition to this, and to
account for the whole, it is only necessary to
say : — that the Indian is a man. It is not
essential to bring in a doctrine of the Christian
religion; — common experience is enough, to
prove, that human nature, unprotected, will catch
vice. The Indian loves excitement, without
regard to consequence ; — because he is too
simple to reckon upon consequences. Ardent
spirits produce at once that delightful and
romantic delirium, in which he likes to revel ;
and having once tasted the sweets of the intoxi-
cating draught, and being without education and
without the influences of a cultivated society to
protect him, and without character to lose, (for
intemperance among Indians is not dishonourable)
is it strange, that he should seek that exemption,
which it ailbrds, from a sense of the hardships,
and from the cares of his destitute condition?
Is it strange, that he should fly to the arms of
that delicious enjoyment, which it yields to the
grosser aflfections of his uncultivated nature ? If,
with all the protections of a refined education, and
under all the checks and remonstrances of civilized
society, with the loss of character impending,
and the foresight of certain ruin, temporal and
eternal, so many thousands of the best and the

OF STR()N(; DRINK.

highest are daily talHng victims to tliis insinuatiiifj
foe of human happiness — sliall it be said, that
the untutored Indian alone is constitutionally
disposed; — that he is born a drunkard; — and
that there is no salvation for him?— It is dis-
graceful— it is abominable — it is as cruel as it is
unchristian.

I protest, therefore, on the ground of huma-
nity— and if it were possible, I would make the
notes of my remonstrance ring in the conscience-
chamber of the highest authorities, at the city ot
Washington, until they might blush, and bo
made afraid of the wrath of heaven, so long as
they are accustomed to appoint and hold these
public negotiations with the Indian tribes, under
circumstances so demoralizing and so ruinous.
The Indian comes to such a place with his
family, comparatively uncorrupt. They come
from their remote and quiet abodes, and from an
even tenor of life. Neither he, nor they can
resist temptation. They receive presents ; and
what is worst of all, whisky is dealt out to them,
at the order of the Commissioners ; they buy it
at the shops of the white man ; and then all is
wildness and tunudt. The Indian is no longer
himself They riot together in intemperance,
and the worst of vices. They lie drunk in hea})s.
Vou cannot walk abroad, but you must dodge to

., ! I

1 I

THE RUIN OF A

fir-

keep out of the way of the staggering and furious
Indian. The grey-headed chief an-', the \vell-
fornied and athletic youth reel along the way
together. The mother and her daujrhter and
her little child are often seen in the same con-
dition.

As we dropped anchor in the river on our first
arrival, attracted by curiosity, several Indian
canoes came along-side, in which I observed a
number of the natives of a more res})ectable con-
dition,— and for them, well-dressed. Some of
them displayed silver ornaments of no inconside-
rable value, (for which they are very partial)
lying upon their shoulders and neck, and sus-
pended from their ears and nose. Among the
rest I saw a beautiful young woman, richly
dressed, full of smiles, and really charming.
She p^^^ood, and moved, and shone in all her
maiden pride and loveliness. The next day, as
1 was walking along the banks of the rivei', with
company, I met this same young woman, but
thoroughly transformed. Her beaver-hat was
laid aside — her hair dishevelled — ^her costly dress
and ornaments, if still retained, were all hidden
by a blanket, thrown over her shoulders, and
covering the whole person— and with a counte-
nance dejected and disconsolate, and her eye
fixed upon the ground, she moaned piteously

YOUNG INDIAN FEMALE.

along the way, regarding none, and with a voice,
which though sweetly musical, yet fell upon the
ear in such plaintive and thrilling intonations, as
to reveal at once all her conscious wretchedness,
and challenge the deepest sympathy. " What is
the matter with that girl ?" I asked. " She has,
doubtless, been tempted to drink, and then dis-
honoured, and is now deserted by a white man ;
and she sees and feels her irretrievable ruin, and
is too simple a child of nature not to betray it !"
" But may it not be supposed, that she has been
injured by one of her own tribe ? " " Never —
never." The second person of this brief dia-
logue was a man, whose opinion, in such a
matter, may be respected.

■m

^1!

■*m

L .3

CHAPTER XXI.

ORGANIZATION AND OPENING OF THE COUNCIL;
FORMALITIES, &c.

The Commissioners and suite had taken lodjj-
ings at an inn on the south bank of Fox River,
about half a mile from Fort Howard, which is on
the opposite side, and down the stream. A num-
ber of strangers also were in lodgings at the same
house ; — that being the only establishment of the
kind in the settlement. As a consequence it was
the natural centre of the Indians, the French,
and the citizens of the States, who were hovering
about, either from interest or curiosity, to witness
the exhibitions of the occasion and the doings of
the Convention. Directly opposite this inn, on
the north bank, the Commissioners had caused
to be erected what is vulgarly called, in the
back woods of America, a shanty ; and which
signifies a temporary shelter, got up to answer
a present necessity. This shanty, or shantee,
was merely a roof of rough boards, covering

■

THE COUNCIL HOUSE.

perliaps a space of thirty by sixty tcet, wit!i
a long and rough table crossing one end, to
accommodate the court and their secretaries ; and
the rest of the ground under cover was lillcd up
with ranges of forms, or planks, resting on blocks
of wood, for the chiefs, and for other Indians,
who might choose to be spectators. There being
no sides, or walls to the shanty, an indefinite
multitude of pC' ^ons, who could not get under
the roof, might stand without. This temporary
structure, it is to be understood, was set upon an
open plain, not only because there was no public
hall, or building, in the settlement, adapted to tlie
purpose ; but more especially to afibrd a freedom
of access and retreat to the natives, who could
not comfortably endure confinement. Here they
might come near, or sUi;^d a little way off, or
squat down, or lie down, ..s suited themselves ; —
and smoke their pipes, and indulge in any and
all of their odd freaks and whimsical manners.

All things being arranged on the morning of
the ^4th, the chiefs of he tribes, who were
interested in the deliberations to be opened, being
assembled, in pursuance of the notices, which
had been served upon them, at tlie order of the
Commissioners ; and the flat-bottomed ferry bont,
being put in requisition for the occasion, aid
drawn to the shore, the Honourable the Conm;i i-

■it

ifi'

; i

OPr.MNf; oF TIIR COUNCIL.

sionors, their secretaries, interpreters, some of
the chiefs, and strangers — as many as the boat
couUl conveniently receive — began to make de-
monstration of a grave and solemn movement
towards the place of grave and solenm delibera-
tion ; — accompanied, as they crossed the stream,
by numerous skills and canoes, filled with all
sorts, whites and Indians, old and young, male
and female, ragged or otherwise; — not indeed a
very splendid cortege.

The Honourable Commissioners, having: landed
on the other shore, with all due solemnity and
decorum, took their seals, supported by their
secretaries ; — and the motley crew of spectators
began to crowd around. Directly in front of the
Commissioners, and face to face, the chiefs of the
Indian tribes arranged themselves, with such
formalities, as might be peculiar to each nation,
rather comical, and not a little amusing.

The chiefs of the Menomenies, however, were
wanting in the group. A message was sent to
their camp, at the distance of a (|uarter of a mile,
that their Fathers, the Commissioners, were wait-
ing their attendance. But their immobility of
temper suffered no shock. They were not ready.
Another messenger was despatched. But still
(heir movements were in no wise hurried. They
could not understand, but that all the world, if

^l^f

INDIAN FORM AT.rTir.S.

lere
to

le,

it-
of
y.
ill

needs be, must wait their convenience. The
Court grew impatient, and began to feel annoyed
at the disrespect. The crowd of spectators also
manifested symptoms of uneasiness, and began to
apprehend some little storm of collision ; and
perhaps a failure of the amusing transactions
anticipated. By and by, however, were seen in
the distance, and slowly approaching, a solemn
procession, halting occasionally, making strange
evolutions, apparently performing certain mys-
terious rites, and holding converse with invisible
agencies. They came near, they retreated, they
traced circles and other more irregular figures,
and pleased themselves, in the time they occupied
in getting to the place of assembling. At last
they stood without the booth, halting, still multi-
plying and varying their mysterious rites. They
faced, and looked upon the Court with im})erturb-
able gravity, seeming to say: — " You will wait
our pleasure." Their manners, indeed, and the
delay they occasioned, were not a little provoking
to our patience. With the same grave and solemn
mien the chiefs entered the pavilion, with pipe
and tomahawk in hand, and occupied the vacant
seats assigned to them ; — imposing an awe, alike
upon the Commissioners and spectators, by their
strance and unaccountable demonstrations. Not
a feature of their countenance was seen to move.

i-sJ

»::.

;t i

230

SMOKING Tin; PIP!::

/^!,

Indians always enter upon public and important
deliberations with great formality. And the Me-
nomenies, being by far more numerous than the
Winnebagoes on the present occasion, making
three-fourths of the entire assemblage, — and to
whr' all the country about Green Bay originally
i^i-.^ "'^d, — that is, before it was assumed by the
whiles, --'^eemed disposed to make more of the
pending solenniities ; — or at least, were more
tardy in tiie completion of their preliminary
forms. In the present instance, the formality of
a council-fire was dispensed with ; for what
reason I know not, unless that it was not con-
sidered purely an Indian Council. The pipe of
frienilsh'q), however, the bowl being silver and
stuck to a tube of four feet long, was solemnly
filled with tobacco, and solenmly lighted, and
solemnly presented to the President of the Court,
who solemnly took one solemn whilf ; — and then
with the same solemnity it was passed to the second
and third members of the Court, who solemnly
pufi'ed in their turn ; — but all with a grace and
dignity, infinitely inferior to the manner of the
chiefs. The latter understood it. But the Court,
alas ! were extremely awkward and embarrassed.
But when it came to the chiefs successivelv, it
was a sublime sight ! I will not attempt to
describe it. But of this I am quite sure : — that,

i'-

"Hi

OF FRlF.Nnsllir.

J2JI

if tlie Commissioners had allowed the Indians
to smoke first, they vvoidd have j)rofited greatly
by the example ; or been scared out of it in
despair; — and thus, perhaps, the object of their
mission to Green Bay, would have been cir-
cumvented ; in which case, no great loss to the
world. For nothing could be done, without
smoking the pipe. And by th' solemnity the
Council was organized and oponr — with this
addition, however: that thf hie:-, exceeding
the Court in politeness and Ji *^e manifestation
of good feeling, each in tii m, and all in train.,
rose and gave the right ik.nu to each of the
Commissioners, in succession. Indeed the mem-
bers of the Court, who had never before had to
do in such matters, nor witnessed such a scene,
were evidently ill at home, and had well nigh lost
their self-possession.

The scene of the organization was indeed
highly picturesque. I dare to say, that such
another congregation of human beings was
scarcely ever assembled, as the commonalty of
the Indians, and the various degrees of mixed
blood, that crowded around, as spectators. There
was every shade and feature of I'renca and In-
dian, under the same skin ; and every incon-
gruous combination of dress upon them, from the
first corruption of European fashion, down to

( hi

c*^

'i!

If.

■ / V ■

§i

R^-' '■''

F-^ 1

SINC;LLAR AI'l'KARANCr..

tlie purest Indian. And there was tlie naked
sava^'e ; {(ill naked, except two small aprons of
twelve inches scjuare, one before and one behind)
some covered only with a blanket, thrown over
the shoulders, or else carelessly tucked around
the waist, leaving the upper part of the body and
the arms exposed ; many of them looking, as if
they had neither been washed, nor combed,
since they were born ; not a few bedaubed in
paints of all colours, from the most glaring red,
down to shades, as black as Erebus ; and their
eyes sparkling and flashing like the startled
snake, from under a countenance so awfully
disfigured ; the whole being a fair representation
of the worst pictures, that imagination has drawn,
of the Ei'}l One ; some with one side of the face
red, and the other black ; others showing a great
variety of colours, most fantastically thrown toge-
ther ; one with one feather in the hair, another
with two, or more, and some with twenty, or less ;
of them sitting under the pavilio;

par

par'

standing without, and part lying down in the
open plain upon their breasts, with their heads
sticking up, like snakes, from the grass ; all fur-
nished with pipes, of their own manufacture,
varving in length from four feet to four inches,
and a tobacco-pouch made of the skin of some
•inimal, in which is also carried an apparatus for

la' Tin: AssKMiiLAdi:.

riOO

striking fire ; every one girt with ;i cinctiuv
about his loins, to vvliicli was suspended a knife
in its scabbard, devoted to all the imaginable
purposes of a knife ; — that is — to cut his tobacco,
to whittle a stick, to dress his game, to eat with,
to scalp his enemy, &c. ike. In the hand of each
Indian is always to be seen, besides his pipe, a
bow and arrow, or tomahavvk, or rifle, or weaj)on
of some description ; — more generally his toma-
hawk is his pipe, the head serving as the bowl,
and the handle f':*: the stem, it being bored into
a tube ; — and nameless other appearances did
this assemblage exhibit, which language is inade-
(juate to describe: — all waiting to see and hear.

But there was another group, called Indians,
sitting by themselves, whose dress, countenance,
manneris, and every appearance exhibited all the
decencies of civilized life. They looked and
acted like men, who respected themselves, and
would be respected by others. Their presence
and entire demeanour would not have lowered
the dignity of any parliamentary assembly. These
were the New York Indians. I had often seen
them at their own villages, in the State of New
York ; — but I never knew how to respect them
before. I never thought it was })ossible for other
human beings to be sunk so far below them, as
to raise them by comparison to such a proud

J334

THE NEW YORK INDIANS.

pre-eminence. All wore the same ii;itnral com-
plexion, and all were evidently of the same stock.
But liere was a class elevated — distini^iiished by
such marks of superiority, as to make the dilference
between them and their wild untutored brethren,
greater than would appear, by bringinjr together
the highest and the lowest, the very extremes of
society, that can be found in all Europe. And
during the whole session of the Council, for a
period of eight days, the New York Indians rose
liigher and higher, by their j)ure and exemplary
conduct, in their claims to respect and confidence.
Indeed, the extraordinary occurrences and scenes
of Green Bay, after we arrived, had been so
absorbing, that I seemed to forget the rest of the
world, while I was there. They were interesting
for their novelty, but sickening and revolting for
the unpleasant exhibitions of human nature, with
which they were accompanied. It was exactly
that state of things, where the virtue of barbarism
lias been confounded, and the order of civilized
society is not yet established. For my own
part, I found it a refuge to fall into the society of
the chiefs and principal men of the New York
Indians. Among them I could be sure of exemp-
tion from any thing vulgar, profane, indecent,
or intemperate. For moral worth and good
manners, they rose and towered above every

t<;^

Tin: TIIIHF.S REPRr.SF.NTEn.

/•Oil

tiling arouiul tlieni, not oxccptiii<T tlio wliito
population, during that long and protracted
public occasion.

The whole number of chiefs admitted into the
Council, to represent the tribes interested, were,
I believe, about /////'/y; — representing the Stock-
bridges, the Oneidas, and Hrothertons, of the
State of \e\v York ; — and the Menomenies,
Wiimebagoes, and Chi})})eways, of the \orth-
West Territory. The lirothertons were inte-
rested, as purchasers of land, although they had
not yet removed. The Chippeways were also
allowed to be interested in some of the discus-
sions pending. And all these tribes speak so
many different languages; the Brothertons ex-
cepted, who speak only English. Of course all
the doings of the Council, and all deliberations
were required to be brought, by interpretation,
into each of the tongues. For example :
when the Commissioners spoke, their addresses
and remarks passed directly into the languages
of the New York Indians, which are two ; but
mediately through French into Menomenie and
Winnebago. The necessity of employing the
French language arose from the want of an
interpreter immediately between English and
the languages spoken by the W'innebagoes and
Menomenies. But there were many /;a(f-bloodf>,

h ft

tiSG

METHOD OF INTERrilLTATION.

as tlioy are called, that could speak Frcncli,
and one or tlie other of these languages, with
equal fluency ; having been brought up in tanii-
lies, where both tongues are in use. When a
INIenomenie chief spoke — for the Commission-
ers, it ])assed through French into English ; for
the ^^'innebagoes, througli French into their
language ; and for the New York Indians,
thror.gh French and English, into theirs re-
spectively; and vice versa. The Chippeway
langunge would have made the connnunication
more direct, as it is move or less common, in all
those regions, and with the different tribes, pjut
in matters deemed important, they did not like
to trust to any uncertainty. Interpretation was
genernlly done at the end of every short sen-
tence; — and after tlio utterance of every simple
thought ; a slow and tedious process. And by
the time a thought had passed, mediutelij, into
a third, and sometimes into a fourth language, it
may easily be imagined, that without the most
scrupulous and accurate interpretation, it was
likely to have undergone some little transform-
ations.

To a spectator and stranger to Indian Coun-
cils, the most interesting part was the extempo-
raneous speeches of tiic* chiefs ; which were
delivered longer, or shorter, by more or less, on

•X

1 iiJi

JOHN ^[ETOXEX.

2.37

:im

ovrry (lay of the piil)lic delibcrtitions. The
principal speakers \\vyc fot/r of the Menomeiiie
cliiefs ; fwo of tlie \Mnnebarr()es ; iuul /iro, ami
sometimes a third ami fourth, of the New York
Indians.

The elocution of the New York Indians wa^
unadorned in style, and mild in manner. Rest-
ing principally upon their written connnunica-
tions, they had not nuich to say. Their education
and loni>' intercourse with the whites had en-
tirely disrobed them of the native wildness of
Fndian eloquence. John Metoxen, however,
i\n aged and venerable chief, of the Stock-
bridges— (than whom a man of more exalted
worth cannot be found on earth)--on the last day
of the Council, as all attem})ts at reconciliation
and adjustment of dilferences had failed, ad-
dressed himself sctft}/>i('nta//f/ to his brethren oi'
the Menomenies and Winnebagoes ; and also to
the Commissioners, in a strain most sublime
and touching; and with a respect and delicacy,
towards the feelings of all concerned, unrivalled.
Metoxen is about sixty years ohl, and head
chief of his tribe. By his language and maimer
he first brought us into the presence of (lod, so
that we felt ourselves to be there. Even the
wild Indians are a most religious pc^ople, and
a pattern of piety to many, who are called

I
' 1 1

..I

:$'.

M f;

238

METOXEN S LAST Sl'EECH.

Christians. That is : tliey always acknowledge
a superintending Providence. They never begin,
nor end a speech, without a reference to the
Great Spirit. But John Metoxen is a Chris-
tian ; — and he has enlightened and practical
views of the Christian's God; — and on the occa-
sion now under consideration he made us feel his
superiority, not only as a Christian, but as a
man. He appealed to the solemn engagements
of the New York Indians on one hand, and
of till' Menomcnies and \\ innebagoes on the
other, as tiie original contracting parties, now
at variance: he called on the Commissioners to
witnesis the repeated and solemn pledges of Go-
vernment, to secure the fulfilment of these
engagements. ; he depicted the anxious progress
and unfortunate result of the present Council ;
with inimitable delicacy and becoming manliness
he freely confessed his diffidence in the present
measures of Government, relating to this affiiir ;
he solemnly declared, that his only confidence
now rested in the God of nations, who had pro-
pounded himself the guardian of the oppressed,
and the avenger of their wrongs ; — and whatever
might become of himself, of his family, or cS his
people, he felt, thai it was now his last and
only prerogative, to surrender theiv cause into
the hands of their God. " God is witness,'' said

INDIAN SHREWDNESS.

I>.39

1 ;

lie, lifting up his eyes to lieaven. " Brotliers, I
have no more to say."'*

It is due, that I sliould say sonietliing of the
speeches of the wild Menonienies and Winne-
bagoes. No conception of romance, in my own
mind, had ever reached the wildness and extra-
vaijance of their thoughts, or of their manner of
expressinfj them. And besides this, they are
not wanting iu shrewdness, and wlut perhaps, in
more dignified bodies, Mould be called parlia-
mentary device. For instance: it had happened,
that the Commissioners, in their summonses sent
to these tribes, had not served upon them a copy
of their letter of instructions from the President,
as they had done to the New York tribes ; —
judging, not unwisely, that the Winnebagoes and
Menomenies would have Httle occasion for the
litera scripla. But before th(\v would consent
to proceed in the business of the Council, they
demanded to be made equal to the New York
Indians in this particular ; and as there seemed
to be so much propriety and argument in the
requisition, the Court rubbed their faces in con-
fusion, promised them a copy, and adjourned.

The next day, the\Vinnebagoes and Menomenies
still refused to go on for want of an interpreter.

* I present this merely as the suhs/ance ol" the impressions
left on my own miiul.

11 M^

210

INDIAN SHREWDNESS.

I f.

It lijul liappened, tlie clay previous, tliat the Com-
missioners liad promised to provide tor tliese
tribes, in this particular, and to submit to their own
nomination, notwithstanding- that thevliad broufdu
along tlie public interpreter from Detroit. But
the young man, a half-blood, named by these
Indians, to discharge this office, thinking himself
e(jual to a Member of Congress, demanded e/g/if
(Jollars {\l. V2s.) per day. Whereupon the
Comn)issioners demurred, and sent the Indians
word, that they might get their own inter})reter,
if they did not like the one employed by the
Commissioners. The Indians, however, thought
better ; and concluded to hold the Commission-
ers to their engagement. Council being as-
sembled, the new interpreter v as not at his post.
"What is the matter?" — said the Court. One
of the chiefs ro-^-. and said: " Our Fathers told
us yesterday, the \ ,'ould provide us an interpreter:
and our Fathers are true men" — and then sat
down. The crowd of barbarians roared out their
applause, in the most wild and tumultuous man-
ner ; the whites joined with them — and the
Commissioners, confounded, ordered an adjourn-
ment again; and having grown wiser by thi>
schooling, engaged the interpreter, as was un-
derstood, on his own terms.

The wild Indians are not bad in managing the

THEIR WILD ORATORY.

2i\

the

few facts, which they have in their possession :
and they are certainly possessed of unrivalled
skill in magnifying trifles and dignifyiiig nothings.
They will deliver themselves of the following
sentence, fwhich by the by is only one word :) —
*' Yerensotavakaranfjetakowa "^ — in a manner to
astound all one's senses, and raise the highest
expectation. And lo ! when it comes to be inter-
preted, it reads : — " tlicgrcatc'.f fnhUc j)nssibU- " —
alias, a. church organ, which he had seen in the
white man's council- house ; and which he wished
to describe to his own people. The Menomenie
and Winnebago chiefs uniforndy commenced
their addres&es, or speeches, and almost eviy
sentence — (after waiting tor the interpreter to
perform his office) — with a strong, monosyllabic
exclamation, involving very emphatically the gut-
tural and aspirate elements, and signifying- -
^^ Attention — hear — 1 am about to .speak.'' It
would be mockery for any but Indian to at-
tempt to exemplify it. The chi. s would always
address themselves directly to tli«' Commissioners,
and with the greatest possible vehemence, as if
they understood; and when . y had finished a
sentence, they would wait for the interpreter. I do
not remember to have heard a single sentence
from a Winnebago, or Menomenie cliief, in
Council, whether the subject were important, or

VOL. I. M

B -'f: '

,M ,

• >•■;■ ,

242

INDIAN ORATORY.

trifling, or in whatever degree it might have
either of tliese characters, when it was not super-
latively marked with a loud and vehement elocu-
tion, and an impassioned and violent manner ; as
if the fate of the world, or of the universe, were
pending on the question, or the thought. If the
sentiment uttered met with the approbation of
their people, a deep and loud guttural, or ventral
ffriwt, and son^etimes a boisterous uproar, would
express their applause. This single, ventral
expression of approbation, if it might be called
!50, was apt to be heard, at the end of every sen-
tence, when they were gratified. And I question,
whether any orators of a civilized people, ancient
or modern, weii? ever better supported by the
generous applause and loud acclamations of their
auditors. It was impossible not to observe the
increased animation of the speakers, from this
cause; as also the quick sympathy, between
themselves and their people. If the thought,
when interpreted, seemed trifling to us, it was
not always so to them. Indians, like children,
are often amused with trifles ; and not unfre-
niently exhaust their gravest meditations on
tiifles; like children they can be pleased, and
ev(?n delighted with a toy. But sometimes they
stand up, and show themselves like men ; and
men of the highest order. They are not great by

INDIAN ORATORY.

education, but on the instant, for the particular
occasion, " There is a spirit in man, and God
hath given him understanding." Nature is in
the Indians ; — and when a high demand, an im-
perative call challenges its proof, it comes like
the lightning, and astounds like the thunder ;
whether it be in the council-house, or from the
battle ambush. And now and then, during the
deliberations of this Council, we had these proofs
of Indian sagacity and power, not to be despised.
For a sentimental appeal, a delicate allusion,
or a sublime flight, when occasion puts him to it,
the Indian is unrivalled ; and for the keenness of
wit, and the severity of sarcasm, he is not wanting.
For the generosity of his nature, it is without
bounds. I have already spoken of some of these
characteristics.

Of power over sentiment, I would quote the
following: It was intimated to the Indians, by
the Commissioners, towards the close of the deli-
berations, that the usual presents from Govern-
ment, at the breaking up of such occasions, would
be withheld, because they had refused to come to
an adjustment of differences. One of the Meno-
menie chiefs saw at a glance the desolateness of
their prospects, and rose instantly from his seat,
and made the following speech : *' Fathers," said he,
'* when you sent to call us to this Council, we were

M 2

' m

* I

' \\

.1 'I

\h.

THE PIETV OF INDIANS.

\t]-

building canoes to gather the wild rice, that our
families might have bread to eat in the winter.
But, as soon as we heard your voice, we left our
canoes unfinished, and came directly to this
place. Fathers — the rice harvest is now come,
our canoes are not built — and we shall have no
bread for our families." And when it is under-
stood, that the first wind that blows, after the
wild rice is ready for harvest, will waste it all, the
force of this appeal can better be appreciated. It
was, in the circumstances and manner, altogether
overpowering, and moved the Commissioners to
grant the usual presents.

Indian speeches, in public council, always
abound in religious sentiments, or in a grateful
reco(T^nition of Divine Providence ; and in friendly
congratulations. This sort of religion may be
accounted for, perhaps, from their own child-like
improvidence, and their more immediate depend-
ence on the providence of God. Their other
aflfections are also so child-like, that friendship
and kindness are dear to them, as they are to
children. I may say in one word: that the
speeches of the Indian chiefs, on these occasions,
demonstrated almost every attribute of greatness
and littleness — much to admire and much to
laugh at.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE CHARGE OF INDIW AFFAIRS IN THE WAR
DEPARTMENT, eSrc.

It might perhaps be expected, that I should
give more of the political character of this Coun-
cil, and make the Court itself as conspicuous, as
the place they occupied ; that I should report
their progress in order, and develope their trans-
actions in detail, from beginning to end. But
the execution of the entire of such a plan, I am
disposed to think, would not be very edifying. 1
have wished all along to keep, as near as possible,
to that course, which might throw the most light
on these two questions : — What are the American
Indians ? And what is to become of them ? And
this is the course I still mean to pursue, under
my best endeavours, to the end. There are
circumstances and features of this Council, yet
untouched, tliat are worthy of notice for such an
object.

►I

::i 1

'"■'%•

INDIAN AFFAIRS IN

I-. >

It is proper to observe, tliat all the affairs of
the Indians, in their connexion and intercourse
and oificial transactions with the Government of
the United States, are in charge of the War
Department. With what propriety and for what
reasons, I am unable to say. Neither can I say
confidently, that there is any impro])riety, except
that the fiame wears somewhat of a belligerent
character, and would not naturally lead one to
expect so much kindness from such a quarter, as
the Indians have an undoubted right to claim.
We may hope, indeed, that this is not the reason,
that such a perpetual war has been waged upon
Indian rights, and threatens still to be carried on.
I am quite sure, that this business was not origi-
nally committed to that department of govern-
ment for such an object ; and if we are to look
to the temperament of the War Department, for
the secret of these troubles, the sooner a motion
is made and carried, that this charge be trans-
ferred to another office, or that a new department
be created for this specific object, the better.

It is in truth to the W^ar Department of the
United States, to which we must look for all the
immediate Government movements and transac-
tions in relation to the Indians. There every
plan in the treatment of Indians is conceived and
organized ; — and thence issue all the authorities

.;!

THF, WAR DEPARTMENT.

'2'\:

to hold afjfencies and commissions among iliem,
for whatever purpose, of an oflicial nature. The
destiny of wliole tribes is settled there, and often
by a si»^^le mind, witliout consuhation. Tliere
were conceived, and as we have reason to believe,
at the discretion of one individual, the instruc-
tions of the Commissioners to Cireen Bay, for
1830; which, if they had been permitted to
go into effect, would have annihilated all the
rights of the Indians concerned, at a single blow.
When I say this, I of course speak of the prin-
ciples, on which the instructions were based.
And it was no doubt the confident expectation of
the War Department, that the Commissioners, on
the present occasion, would execute these in-
structions in full, and bring the plan to immediate^
consummation.

But unforeseen obstacles interposed ; the effect
of which, however, was only to suspend the re-
sult. The New York Indians had caused to hv
prepared a vindication of their rights, on the
basis of the covenants between themselves and
the North-West tribes ; and of the understanding
between themselves and the General Govern-
ment;— the whole of which, it was the design
of the instructions from the War Department
to set aside. In the considerations, specified
in the instructions, as a basis and guide of the

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248

THE NEW VORK INDIANS METHOD

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• i

contemplated arrangement, there was no reference
whatever to these covenants. It is possible, and
not improbable, that the Commissioners had
caused the New York tribes to be served with a
copy of these instructions, for the very purpose
of notifying them of the course of procedure to
be adopted. They improved the advice, how-
ever, in a dilferent way from that, which we have
here supposed was intended : — they employed
the mean time, in the preparation of an argument
to establish their rights, and to show before this
Court, before Congress, if needs be, and before
the world, why they could not legally, and why
they ought not to be disturbed. It was a docu-
ment of the greatest interest, as being done by
Indians, allowing for the little assistance they
received. Themselves furnished the materials,
collected the facts ; — tlie final copy of the docu-
ment was ma'le by their own hand ; — it was read
before the Commissioners by one of their own
number ; — and laid upon their iable, as the only
l)asis, on which they could act; — and it is now
on file in the public oflfice, at Washington, not
only as an unanswerable demonstration of the
rights, which it vindicates, in this particular in-
.^tance ; — but as a proof equally unanswerable,
that an Indian may be a statesman, not to suffer
by a comparison with any other. The New

OF VINDICATING THEIR RIGHTS.

2i9

York Indians had among thcni, on the present
occasion, a phiral numhcr of men, of a liheral
education. Having right on their side, they
were more than equal to the Court. They were
dignified in all their deportment; and when
called upon, they entered their solenm protest
against the course of procedure, of which they
had heen notified, as determined on ; laid the
defence of their rights upon the table ; and
pointed to the Bond.

What could the Commissioners do ? Could
they refuse to hear? and having heard, could
they decently throw out the document? — and
retaining it, could they act upon it? The ground
of discussion, which it opened, was entirely be-
yond the scope of their instructions. Yet the
course pursued by the New York Indians seemed
reasonable — all the world would deem it reason-
able. The moment this document was heard by
the Commissioners, their good sense taught them
at once, that the object of their mission to Green
Bay was entirely defeated, under the limitations
of their instructions. They could do nothing
definitively, under that instrument, without dis-
gracing themselves, and disgracing the Govern-
ment. The course pointed out, was a course of
violence ; — and however the end contemplated,
was evidently resolved, and must finally be

M 3

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•M'!

t. H

'llvl

*•;

I-

THE OBJECT OF THE

attained — tlie Commissioners, suddenly openinjr
their eyes to some rays of the truth and merits
of the case, had not come to this duty sufficiently
conscience-hardened, to jump at once to the con-
clusion, in defiance of these covenants. The
ground taken by the New York Indians, and
the noble and intrepid vindication of their rights,
was unexpected. It had not been anticipated
at the War Department ; — nor by the prime
movers of the mischief on the premises ; — it was
not dreamt of any where. It was taken for
granted, that they would yield to the menace
held over their heads, and take what was ottered,
rather than risk all.

But the Commissioners being there, they
might as well do something. Notwithstanding
the aspects of the case were entirely changed,
by the declaration and vindication of the rights
of the New York Indians, and an insuperable
bar thrown in the way of their errand ; — yet they
might as well hear what the Indians had to say
on both sides ; they might collect information,
and report thereon to the authority, under which
they acted. They might also, perhaps, in exist-
ing circumstances, safely hazard the use of some
discretion. And so, it seems, they did ; — although
within very prudent limits. They ventured to
specify and recommend terms of compromise.

r
I

■ ■ -u

COMMISSION DEFEATED.

,23 \

between the parties in controversy; and not
succeeding in this, they drew up a phui of settlin^^
the disputes, which they proposed to recommend
to Government.

But it was impossible tor suc/i men to settle
this matter. It was impossible, because they had
come with wrong views of the case, and on the
general subject— themselves pledged to a policy
ruinous to Indian rights; impossible, because they
had no authority to do it, on proper grounds ;
impossible, because of the conflicting testimony
they were obliged to receive on the spot; and
impossible, because they could not agree among
themselves.

The Council was held eight days successively —
Sunday excepted — without result, except, that it
furnished an admirable occasion for the develope-
ment of Indian character and Indian wrongs.

'■ iJi

1- *

; ^ ■ '

CHAP. XXIII.

SPECIMENS OF INDIAN SPEECHES.

'-'■ '■ K

Bij John Metoxen, head Chief of the Stock-
bridge Tribe, on the occasion of laying on
the table of the Commissioners, the Document,
which contained at large the declaration and
vindication of their rights.

" Brothers : hear what I have to say. Thanks
to tlie great Spirit, who lias brought your faces
to our faces in heaUh and peace. We shake
hands with our great father, the President, in
our hearts. We are glad to take you, his chil-
(h'en and our brothers, by the hand. May the
chain of friendship, which has so long bound us
together, still bind us, while the sun comes up
in the Great Lake, and goes down in our forest.

'' Brothers, you know we have always been
friends of our great father, the President, who

si;

INDIAN SrEECllES.

zyi

has promised to keep olfoiiv enemies, if we will
help him keep off his enemies. We lived under
his shadow first in the east country, (Massachu-
setts) next with our brothers in the State of New
York ; and because our great father said, it would
be better for us to come out here, we obeyed his
voice, and came. Our great father said, he
would not let the white man trouble us any more.
He wished us to come here, and buy land of our
brothers, the Menomenies and Winnebagoes,
and settle down among them, and make them
learn the good ways of the white man — how to
raise corn, and build houses, and make their
own blankets, and other good things. Our father
said, we should keep the peace between him and
the wild people of the North -West — that he
would give us and our children this land for
ever — that he would never let his white children
come among us to sell our people strong water,
and cheat them, and get away their land — that
the great lakes should be a wall between us and
them — that he would send good men to come
and see us, and ask what we want — that he
would send us ploughs and all things good to
raise corn — that he would send our women
things to make cloth — that if any of the tribes
should rise up against us, or quarrel among
themselves, our father would reach out his long

\ ;i*sl

-a?

!|-i

i2.54

INDIAN SPEECHES.

arm, and speak with his mouth, and tell them to
be still— and that here, under his shadow, we
should all live in peace, and grow up tof{ethcr,
and become a great nation, like the white men,—
and build good houses, and at last have one
great father of our own, who should be in peace
with our great father, the President.

" Brothers, as we knew our great father was
a true man and honourable, and as we believed
he would never break his word, and that he had
a strong arm to make it good, we trusted to all
he said. We were glad at his words. We let
his white children take our lands and our homes
in the State of New York, and we took our
wives, and our children in our arms, and came
across the great lakes to live here on Fox
Tti^er. We lighted the council-fire, and made
peace with our brethren, the Winnebagoes and
Menomenies. We gave them money for lands.
They said, they were glad to see us, and to have
us come and live among them — and that we
would all be one people. They pron.ised to
leave hunting and fishing, and raise corn like us,
and that their women should spin like our
women — and that we would become as good
and as great as white men. We were all
agreed — and we were all very glad.

" Brothers, we did not think our great father,

INDIAN spf:i:(iif,s.

255

••

President Monroe, would die so soon — or that
anotlier would come in his place to forget what
he had promised. We did not think, that our
great father had so many papers in his table-
drawer, that he could not fuid the one, on which
his agreement with us was written.

" You see, brothers, the white man is here —
he has brought strong water to sell to our people,
to the Menomenies, to the Winnebagoes, and to
the Chippeways, to get them drunk, and make
them quarrel. The Indian is good for nothing,
when he can get strong water. It makes him
mad. He will not work — he will whip his wife,
and his child, — and perhaps kill one, to be sorry
for it the next day, when he catmot help it.
Strong water makes him (juarrel with his neigh-
bour, and they kill one another. There is no
peace, when the Indian can get strong water —
but all things go badly. Our great father the
President, said — that the white man should
never come here, and sell our people strong
water.

'* Brothers, you see the white people have
come here to live — a great many. And they tell
us, that diey will stay — and that more will come —
and that they will have our lands — and that we
must go beyond the Mississippi. All this makes
us very sorry.

j4l

l.i Ml

«'

■I

L>.>(>

INDIAN SPEECHES.

l^:

*' We lived in peace with the Winnehagoes

and Menomenies, and with all the tribes of the

North-West. Our council-fire burnt well, and

did not go out. But, while we sat in peace

around it, and smoked the pipe of friendship

with our brethren — the white man came in, and

threw a big stone against the fire, and scattered

the brands among our feet, and knocked them

upon our blankets — and cried out: It is no

peace — it is war ; — so that we could not stay.

We run home, and our hearts were very sorry;

and there has been no peace since. The white

man will not let us speak peace to our brethren.

He tells our brethren, that we are their enemies —

that we came here only to get away their

country — and to drive them off; and that if they

will get back the lands, which they sold to us,

they can sell them again to the whites, and get

pay for them a second time ; and that the whites

will give a great deal more money, than we

gave. Three years ago (1827) they received a

great bag of money from the city of Washington

to buy these very lands on Fox River, which they

once sold to us. We do not know for what good

reason this money was given them. We are

afraid.

" Brothers, I need not say much. We have
put in writing what we think. It has just been

INDIAN SPEECHES.

251

■4 ■,

« I

r'
I

read to you, and is now in your hand. We wish
you to think on wliat is written in that paper.
We wish you to carry that paper to our great
father, the President — and sliake hands with him
for us, and ask him to read and think of it. We
wish it to be read before the chiefs of the great
nation, who stand around the fire of the great
council-house, at the city of Washington — that
they may think of it.

"Brothers, there is no longer peace between
us and our brethren here. We cannot speak
with them. They do not come and see us — and
we cannot go and see them. Tiie white man
stands between us and keeps us apart. W^e say
one thing, and they say another thing. W^e no
longer smoke the pipe together. We desire you
to ask our great father to take away his white
children, and when they are gone, we shall do
well enough.

" W^e need not tell you, brothers, to shut
your ears against the words of the white men,
who have come up here, and who want our
lands. We have been made very sorry to hear
what they say.

" Brothers, we look to you — we look to our
great father, the President — we look to the chiefs
of the great nation : we ask only for the per-
formance of their agreement. W^hile you have

i »

ifff

I:.

•t! ^ I

4~^:

25S

INDIAN SPEECHES.

that paper, you know our mind. We sliall wait
with great desire to know the answer of our great
father and of the chiefs at Wasliington.
" I have no more to say."

It is proper perhaps to say, that the paper
referred to in this speeeh, is the document
noticed in the last chapter, as having had such an
important influence on the doings of the Com-
missioners, arresting the current in which they
were directed by their instructions, and defeating
the object which those instructions contemphited.
The New York Indians relied entirely upon
this, as principal ; and upon other minor written
communications, which were afterwards sent to
the Court, as occasion demanded — inconsequence
of which the speeches of their chiefs were few,
and generally short — delivered for the purpose of
explanation, or in answer to inquiries.

Speech of the Menomenie chiefs called " The
Brave," in answer to Metoxen.

*' Brothers : hear me. We give you this
hand, to say, we are glad to see you. You came
from the rising sun. W^e thank the Great Spirit,

INDi.A.'^ STEEdlES.

25$)

who has carried you safely over the bi^ waters,
and set you down in our country, the centre of
the world. This hand is our welcome. Peace
be with us.

** Brothers, we wish you to say to our jjreat
father, that we love him, and that we will always
do as he tells us. Does he live in a bi^^ house i
We shall be glad to go and see him. Tell him,
if he will send us some money, and ask us, mc
will come. We should like him to send us
some tobacco also. Tell him, we shake hands
with him in our hearts.

" Brothers, we are glad you are come to
settle our disputes. We, Menomenics and Win-
nebagoes, have no learning, like our brothers here
from the rising sun, (the New York Indians.) We
cannot put our thoughts on paper, like them. We
ask, that you will let us have a man of learning,
and a friend to us, that he may read that paper,
(the defence handed in by the New York Indians)
and tell us what it means — and that he may give
us advice how to act ; for our brothers from the
rising sun know more than we do- they have
deceived us. They have got more land, than
they ought to have — more than we ever sold
them. W^e wish you to tell them how much
they may have. Tell them what to give back to
us — and we will sell it to our great father, and to

«':-i

» ■- • r i

260

INDIAN SPEECHES.

our white brothers here, wlio are our friends —
and they will give us a fair price, and blankets,
and tobacco. We like our white brothers here,
and are willing to have them stay. They sell
us what we want, and take our skins.

" Brothers, may the Great Spirit keep you.

" This is all."

^*hM

■ „■.(!

'lip

% y

'■#^

1 '• ,

The request made hy this chief for learned
counsel was granted by *he Court ; and a gentle-
man, residing at Green Bay, who liiled the
office of judge in the District Court of the
United States for that territory, was the adviser
of the Menomenies and Winnebagoes, through
all the sessions of the Council and of the Com-
mission ; — and he prepared written answers to
all the written communications of the New York
Indians.

Speec/i of Da^jiel BREM)jachiefoft/ie Oneidas,
about Ihirtr years old.

*' Brothers, I have not much to say. I am
glad, that your people and my people have
one religion. We vorship the same Great
Spirit — we lov^ the same Lord Jesus Christ, the

V-

INDIAN SPEECHES.

261

you.

Saviour of sinners. It was the white man, who
brought us to know the true God — and how we
may be saved. We are thankful. We thank
the Great Spirit, who lias kindly brought us
together at this time. May he keep us in the
right way, make us love one another, and not let
us do any thing wrong.

" Brothers, what has been said by our brother,
the Stockbridge chief, is true. I was glad to
hear what he spoke. We have moreover told
you all our thoughts in that paper. We wish
you to consider what we have written — and to
take it up to our great father, and to the chiefs
of his nation — that they may consider it, and
restore our rights.

*' Brothers, I did not wish to speak. But it
was desired, that one of my tribe should say
something. We are all made sorry — we are in
great trouble — we know not what to do. The
white man is come upon us, and is taking up our
lands. We came here to be free from the white
man. But he follows us wherever we go. We
are discouraged. The white man has broken
peace between us and our brethren here in the
North-West, and will not let us come together
again. We cannot do what we had wished to
do — what our father, the President, promised us
we might do. The white people are surrounding

t !

t<'

,!•'

262

INDIAN SPEECHES.

• * J

I J again — they are getting our lands — they
will not bt us have any influence over the native
tribes — they fill the ears of our great father with
wrong stories — and they have already threatened
to drive us away.

" Brothers, we were well off in the State of New
York — as well as we could be, while surrounded
by whites. There we had good land, we raised
corn, learned the good ways of our white neigh-
bours, had houses for our families, and a house
of God. There we enjoyed the protection of the
laws. If the white man injured us, we told it to
our great father, (the civil magistrate) who was
near at hand, and could see and right the wrong.
But here the white man can do us any wrong,
and there is no help for us. We came here,
because we wished to be by ourselves, and to
make a separate people of the Indians. Our
father. President Monroe, promised, that his
white children should never come after us. He
said, he had a desire to see us liviiig by ourselves,
in peace and prosperity — that it would be bette
for us to come out here, than to live in the State
of New York — and that he would always remem-
ber or»d protect us by his great and strong arm.
But, brothers, we remember it is written in your
Bible, which is our Bible: 'And there arose another
king in the land, which knew not Joseph.' We

INDIAN SPEECHES.

268

remember also, that Ahab wanted Naboth's vine-
yard, ana Naboth said : * The Lord forbid, that
I should resign the inheritance of my fathers.'
But ive did give up the inheritance of otir fathers,
for the sake of peace — because our great father
said he v, anted it for his white children. * Ahab
said to Naboth : I will give thee for it a better
vineyard.' So said our father, the President, to
us — and he promised to defend it for us and for
our children for ever. Now, we do not complain
of the vineyard. It is good enough. But Ahab
wants this also; and we are more exposed to
the cruelties and depredations of his people, than
before we removed.

" Brothers, we cannot move any more. Tell
our great father, that our hearts are made very
sorry by the conduct of his white children — and
that we have no peace.

'* This is all I have to say."

Speech o/* Four-legs, head chief of the Winne-
bagoes. — N. B. It is not to be understood,
thnt ihis man actually had as many legs, as
his name indicates. The fancy of the American
Aborigines, in the invention and application of

'r ;>

264

INDIAN SPEECHES.

ill

! '.

names, especially to their chiefs, is well known
to be greatly exuberant, and not a little re-
moved from what the Europeans would call
classical purity. All that Fotrr-legs exhibited
to the eye, to entitle him to this name, was
the suspension of a fox's tail, from being
attached to the external of each of his knees ;
which played and dangled, as he walked,
making a show at least equal to, and altogether
more attractive than, the calf and ankle of his
own leg. But to his speech: —

" Brothers, attend to my words. Thanks to
the Great Spirit, who has kept us all till now.
We are gkad to shake hands with you. May we
long smoke the pipe of friendship. Before our
chiefs went to see our great father, where is
built the great council-house, we did not know
the great nation. And we once drew our short
knives against the long knives — (long swc'ds of
the whites) we took the tomahawk and rifle — and
we said : We will have every scalp of them. But
they were too many for us. And when our
chiefs came back, and told us what they had
seen, we said : we shall never dare to lift up our
short knives against the long knives again. And
so, we wish to live in peace.

*' Brothers, I have counted the trees of the

INDIAN SPEFXIIES.

2G.>

forests all around the lake of my fathers; (Win-
nebago Lake, thirty miles long and fifteen broad)
— when the sun was asleep in the woods, I have
looked up from the door of my cabin, and counted
the stars — but our chiefs told us, when they
returned : You cannot count the white men !
Brothers, we do not wish to fight the white men;
we wish for peace. Our chiefs told us of your
big cabins, all put together in a great heap, so
great, that one must walk a whole journey to get
round it. They told us of your big canoes, with
great wings, and how they let out the smoke and
thunder from their sides. We were afraid at
their story — and we wish for peace. Our chiefs
told us of your warriors, how many they are, nnd
how they all push together straight forward, and
do not run and dodge like an Indian behind a tree.
They told us of rifles, so big, that an Indian
could not put his arms around one— and that
four horses must draw it on rollers — and that
when it fires, it makes a great noise like thunder.
It makes the ground shake, and the clouds too.
Brothers, we wi^h for peace.
" I have no more to say."

. It.

,. h

\i.i

the

It is true. Four-legs does not seem to speak
much to the point under discussion. Nor is it
to be inferred, that he was not a brave man,

VOL. I. N

2G6

INDIAN SPEECHES.

i,t

8». .'■«!'♦

from the singular turn, which he happened to
take in his speech. He is notwithstanding {was —
for he is dead no"-^ > ' of great fame. He

no doubt really desn'ed peace, and was sufficiently
convinced, from all he had heard, that his nation
could never beat the whites. It is but a few
years since, however, that the Winnebagoes
supposed themselves the greatest and mightiest
nation on earth ; and their pride was equal to
their estimation of their own relative importance.
But Four-legs, just at this time, seems to have
been in the humour of compliments ; — and
besides, he has been reckoned an arch politician,
for an Indian. He might say one thing, and
mean another.

Bf/ John Metoxen, at the breaking up of the
deliberations of the Council,

" Brothers, I speak now both to my white and
red brothers — to all who are here. I am an old
man — and my spirit will soon be with the spirits
of my fathers. I have been at the head of my
people for many years. I have been anxious
for them. When I came before them from New

Bui

INDIAN SPEECHES.

2GT

York to Green Bay, and told tliem to build their
cabins at the Grande Kmvhawlin, I thought they
would have peace, and that 1 should die in peace.
But I see, that I must go down to the grave with-
out comfort. It is not peace. All the doings
of this Council show, that there is no rest for mv
people, who came here for rest.

*' I wish to say a word to the Winnebagocs
and Menomenies. Brothers. It is not good,
that the white man has stood between us, and
kept us apart. Once we smoked in peace. We
came from the rising sun, and asked you to give
us a home. We told you, there was no more
home for us among the graves of our fathers —
because the Mhite man had come there. You
took us by the hand, and said : We are glad to
see you. Here is our country. Come and live
among us. W^e said to you : Give us land tnat
we can call our own, and we will pay you for it.
You did so. And we made a covenant. We
said : The white man shall never come here.
And our great father, the President, said: My
white children shall never trouble you. We
lived in peace, till the white man came. He,
brothers, has told you wrong stories. He has
made you believe, what is not true. It is he that
wants your land, and not we. We agreed, that
we would keep him off. But he has divided us ;

N 2

M.W

268

INDIAN SPEECHES.

and now there is no more peace. He will ^et
your land and ours, and then what will our
children do? — Brothers, come back to us. Let
us smoke the pipe again. We told you the ways
of the white man, that he is a snake in the
grass — that he will bite and destroy, when we
don't see — that he has great power — and that he
will drive away the Indians, and give their land to
his own children. You now see, that our words
are come to pass. The white man has come and
set his foot and his cabin on Fox River — and is
getting more of our land every year. First, he
spoke smooth words. Now he speaks .rough
words — because he has got the power. Brothers,
come back to us. We will be one people. We
will unite together against the white man, and pray
our great father to take him away. And then we
shall have peace, and no more trouble. I give
you the faith and love of our tribes. It is not
rotten. It is good.

" I speak again to my white brothers. You
will not blame me, that I have spoken the truth.
You have seen, brothers, since you came to Green
Bay, that what I have just told the Menomenies
and Winnebagoes, is truth. We have shewn
you what promises were made to us by your
great father and ours. You know it is truth.
Wo make you witnesses this day — you shall

si: f

INDIAN SPEECHES.

269

give

witness to our great father and to liis chiefs —
you shall witness to God — that all we have said,
is truth. We have heen sorry, brothers, that it
was not in your power to do us justice. We
thank you for your good intentions. You say
your instructions do not allow you to make the
treaties a rule of settlement. \v e left our lands
in the East country, and came here on the under-
standing of those treaties. We have trusted
entirely to the faith they have pledged to us. If
t/tef/ cannot be depended on, we know not what
to trust. You offer to make a }iciv treaty in the
name of our great father. INIake the old treaty
good, brothers, and then if there be any need,
we shall have some reason to trust in a new one.
Till then, we do not wish to make another. It
is better to have none, brothers, if both parties
will not keep them. We have been deceived.
It is not good. We do not wish to be deceived
again.

" Brothers, we have learnt one good thincr
from the white man : to trust in the white man's
God. We believe him to be the only God — and
that he is the God of all the tribes of men. ^Ve
feel, that we have need to trust in him now.
We are injured ; and I know not what new
injuries await the destiny of my people. I shall
go down to the grave thinking only of the words

I'i

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270

INDIAN SPEECHES.

; i

of King David's son, which 1 have read in the
book presented to my father's father by your
fatlier's fatlier, from over the big salt lake :
' So I returned, and considered all the oppres-
sions that are done under the sun. And behold
the tears of such as were oppressed, and they
had no comforter. And on the side of their
oppressors there was power — but t/iei/ has! no
comforter.' God is witness of our old engage-
ments— God is witness how they have been
kept — and God will reward us, according to
our deeds.

" Brothers, I have done."

Jii

{'! :

CHAPTER XXIV.

FREE MASONRY AMONG THE INDIANS; MEDICINE
DANCE; AND WAR DANCES.

As I was walking one day in the camp of the
Winnebagoes, I observed a group of Indians
collected around one of the lodges, deeply ab-
sorbed in the performance of some strange and
mysterious rites, apparently of a symbolical and
religious nature. The women were engaged in
them, as well as the men — and all in public. At
one moment they would seem to be occupied
in a sort of hocus-pocus incantation, with the
greatest imaginable solemnity. In spite of my
philosophy, I could but sympathise with them.
I verily stood waiting, from the degree of faith
and expectation which they manifested, to see
some strange and miraculous phenomena ; spirits
perhaps, coming up from the caldron they appeared
to be stirring. True, there was no caldron visible
to the vulgar — to us — no kettle of any fashion —

■m

^272

IKEE-MASONRV

vi'

^1 ■

no material vessel of capacity ; — ))ijt tliey were
evidently and earnestly stirrin*^ up something
over a fire. They formed a circle, nun and
women, with a sort of pudding-stick — alias a
witch's or wizard's rod; — and round and round
they walked, with a gravity, at sight of which
few would not have felt solemn, each one stirring
the caldron in turn, as he or she came where it
was — or should be ; — reciting at the same time
some mysterious words. There was manifestly
an expectation of some wondrous result. They
grew excited — they danced — they raved — and
seemed to be the subjects of involuntary and
violent muscular spasms. They would stop sud-
denly, and lift up the head, like the dog that bays
the moon ; and mutter with a most inconceivable
volubility a long prayer — or some other piece of
religious exercise, 1 know not what, apparently
of a devotional character. This baying of the
heavens, however, appeared to be the exclusive
office of certain distinguished individuals — priests
most likely. There was no miracle, after all.
The ceremonies were diversified, and pompous,
and solemn.

" What is this ?" said I to a companion, who
knew something of Indian customs. '* Why,"
said he, "it is Free-masonnj ; — and if you
could stay long enough to see the whole, you

AMONCi Tin: INDIANS.

;?T'>

Iho

ou
ou

would be greatly amused." " Rut do the women
take a part ?" " () yes — the Indians are farther
advanced in Free-masonry, than civilized na-
tions:— they have taken higher degrees. The
white masons, you know, are just beginniit}f to
confer degrees upon women. But Indians have
done it from time immemorial." ** But the society
here is open." '* Certainly. Secresy is all non-
sense. There is no mystery in masonry, except
in the higher degrees, in relation to the lower ;
and in all the degrees, in relation to the world.
The white Free-masons have found it convenient
for other pm poses, to hold their meetings in
conclave ; — not for secresy. There is no secresy,
except what results from physical necessity : —
that a man cannot know what he has never
learned. Pretended secresy lends importance to
that, which is supposed to be kept out of sight —
awakens curiosity, and gives amazing advantage
to nothing." " Indeed? This is information."
'* I am glad, if you are wiser for it."

One cannot have been long among the Indians,
and not have had his attention challenged by a
DRUMMING in some quarter, from morning to
night, and from night to morning ; — and some-
times for several successive days, without inter-
mission, except by very short intervals of repose.
The Indian drum is made exactly according to

N 3

271

THE INDIAN DRUM.

4 ,-.

the philosophy of the martial instrument ot
music, which bears this name in Europe. But
if the beauiy be brought into comparison — that
is another thing. An old hollow trunk of a tree,
cut into a section of two or three feet, without
any other work, except what was first done by the
hand of nature, and next by time, will answer all
the purpose. One end may be phinted in the
ground, if it is not convenient to put a head in
it; the other must be covered by a buck-skin,
stretched over it, when wet, with great pains and
force, and fastened by strings and withes to pegs,
driven into the longitudinal parts of the trunk.
By this description every one will see, that
the instrument combines all the philosophical
principles of a drum. Whether the American
Aborigines bc/rov^ed the suggestion from Euro-
peans, or the latter from the former ; or whether
each came by the discovery independent of the
other — is of no importance to our present pur-
pose to settle. The American Indians have the
drum — that is certain ; and if they wish to make
it portable, they contrive to fasten a hollow
sounding cover of some sort on the other end ; —
perhaps nail on a thin board, when their arts, or
trade will f'lrnish them with iron for nails. An
empty keg, when the strong water has all been
drawn, (which does not take long) is often

MEDICINE-DANCE.

^7 1

appropriated to this purpose, in which case one
of lIic heads is permitted to remain, as a matter
of economy, while the other is overdrawn, as
aforesaid, by a buck-skin, in the highest degree
of tension. But the use, that is more commonly
made of the drum among the Indians, is by no
means so pleasant, as this account of its con-
struction. It is even sad and melancholy in the
highest degree.

And is not the wliite man's use of the same
instrument sad ? He employs it to challenge
the fiercest passions, to rouse and provoke the
spirit of man to deeds of blood, to drown the
cries of the wounded and dying, to sustain
and urge on the heaviest encounter of brute
force.

Not so the Indian. He employs it to sootlie
and relieve the suffering, and to rescue the dying
from the grave. He makes it a medicine of the
soul, and of the body. When all the other
powers of the healing art have failed, and the
patient still declines, the Indians last resort is to
the magic influence of the drum and dance. All
the family and near relatives gather in a crowd
around the suffering victim ; the nearest relative,
a mother, or father, a husband or wife, or the
eldest child- more commonly a female, when it
is convenient — as the tender sex are more su^-

27G

MEDICINE-DANCE.

ft'l ! '

, i ■

••if- '

;iii

h' !•'•

ceptible of grief — begins to weep, and sob, and
moan aloud, often howling, with expressions of
heart-appealing anguish ; — the drum sets up its
melancholy beat to a dancing gig ; — the entire
circle parade and move round in solemn order,
time-keeping to tlie summons; — the chief
mourner sobs and howls ; — and round they
dance, muttering prayers hour after hour, and
day after day, till they have drummed and danced
and howled the wretched victim into the arms of
death. In this extremity all other means, all
other medi-'ine, and the common susiei.ance of
nature are perhaps scrupulously withholden.
Every thing now depends on the miraculous in-
fluence of the charm. The relatives must have
faith; — the patient must have faith; — all depends
on faith. If the patient be an infant, the anxious
and agonized mother will every now and then
catch it up in her arms, and dance around the
'^ircle, weeping and sadly moaning. If the pa-
tient be an adult, and have sufficient strength, it
is deemed of great importance, that he or she
should rise, as often as they are able, and join
the dance ; and when strength fails, the patient
is supported by the arms of relatives. When he
is entirely exhausted, he is borne along the
dance perfectly passive ; and gradually as he
languishes, the enthusiasm and anxiety rise to a

I
I

THE WAR-DANCE,

277

higher pitch ; the drum sounds with more earnest
heat ; the contagion of sobhing and moaning
spreads and becomes universal ; the circle is
enlarged by an accession of friends and neigh-
bours, who soon catch the sad spirit of the
occasion ; the noise and tumult aggravate to a
storm ; and as might be expected, the patient
sinks and expires, under the overwhelming
weight of this furious tempest of lugubrious
passion. And this is called the Medicine-dance.
Rarely, the strength of the patient's constitution
braves the assault, and he rises and lives not-
withstanding. And these instances of recovery
prove to a demonstration, in the philosophy
of the Indians, the miraculous efficacy of the
means.

But there is yet a use of the drum among the
Indians, of a truly martial character — and that
is in the War-dance. Whenever a tribe has
reasons for waging war, either in self-defence,
or to avenge injuries, having deliberated and re-
solved upon the enterprise, in a grave and solemn
public council, the occasion and ceremonies of
enlisting and mustering their warriors, are of a
character most fearfully interesting and barba-
rous. For the entertainment of the Conmiissioners
and strangers, and other spectators of the Council,
which had been engaged in its deliberations

278

TIJE WAR-DANCE.

; h ,1

at Green Bay, and while the sittings of the
Council were open, we had two specimens of
the Indian war-dance, at the intervals of recess
from public business: — one by the Winneba-
goes, and the second by the rival efforts of the
two tribes. As the ii'ght i the most appropriate
and most awful, by the imposing character of its
own natural solemnity ; and as according best
with the dark designs of savage vengeance ; the
exhibitions were made to begin at the ap-
proach of the evening shades, and obtained their
height of interest, when all that is most grand
and awful in midnight scenery overspread the
heavens.

The Menomenies and Winnebagoes are two
powerful and rival nations, among the tribes
of the North - West, and extremely jealous of
eacli other. The Convention necessarily brought
their chiefs and warriors and common people into
near and intimate contact. They veiy pru-
dently and naturally, however, made the river a
division line between them, in setting up their
encampments : — the Menomenies occupying the
north bank, and the Winnebagoes the south.
But every day, by the constant passing and re-
passing of such a public and promiscuous assem-
blage, the people of the two tribes were brought
jside by side, and without interruption crossed

;

THE WAR-DANCF.

271)

eacli other's tracks. The mutual animosities ami
jealousies, which a few years ago were manifested
between the English and French ; which barred
the common courtesies of life in their relations
to each other, and disposed them to construe the
slightest inadvertence into an insult — were not
unlike the state of feeling, which characterised
the intercourse of the Winnebagoes and Meno-
menies. This uncomfortable temper wa? very
much awakened into active energy by the pre-
cedence, which the Winnebagoes obtained in
attracting the attention of the Commissioners
and other visitors, in the way of affording them
amusement ; — partly, because the encampment of
the Winnebagoes happened to be on the same
side of the river with the public lodgings for
strangers ; and partly because the Wituiebagoes
themselves w^re strangers at the Bay, and were
in many respects of their history and manners
more remarkable. The Winnebagoes by them-
selves got up a war-dance for the amusement oi
the whites; — and the sport went off so well, that
the Menomenies resolved they would not be out-
done in a feat of this kiiul. Accordingly on the
next day after the first exhibition, great prepa-
rations were observed to be making on both
sides for a r'nal war-dance. And the motives of
emulation were so powerful, the excitement of

280

THE WAR-DANCE.

II »' ■ )

national pride so great, there could be no doubt,
that an acting off of this terrific scene was about
to be displayed, in the highest style, and under
the most striking and impressive representations.

The Winnebagoes are a proud, high-bearing
race, exhibiting more of the native wildness
and savage independence of the Indian cha-
racter, than any nation around them ; — looking
down with perfect contempt on all other tribes,
especially upon their neighbours, the Meno-
menies. While the Menomenies on the present
occasion were by far the most numerous, and
exhibiting themselves under the special excite-
ment of the fresh return of a war-party from the
Mississippi, who, in alliance with the Sioux, had
that summer been waging war with the Saukes
and Foxes, and brought into the camp of their
tribe at Green Bay some scalps of their enemies,
as the trophies of their recent victories.

One of the accompaniments of the war-dance
is music — or what the Indians call music —
instrumental and vocal. And although Indians,
when civilized and cultivated, are found to have
the most melodious voices, of all human kind,
and to be the most passionate lovers of harmony ;
yet in their savage condition, the character of
their music is in perfect keeping with their hearts:
wild, discordant, and harsh. I, however, noticed

THE WAR-DANCE.

281

one instrument among them, the structure and
tones of which are not unhke the flagelet, adapted
to the softer passions, and designed no doubt for
quiet, domestic scenes ; — the music of whicli is
equally plaintive and touching, as any thing I
remember to have heard. As I saw it only
in the hands of young men, I am disposed
to believe, that it is appropriated by the lover
to move and subdue the heart of the maid, the
return of whose tender regard he desires ?nd
solicits. A nice observation, however, soon
detects the total want of regular intervals in this
instrument. It is better fitted for the melody of
distinct notes, than for scientific performances.
And this, doubtless, is quite sufficient for his
purpose. A wild melody, in such a state of
society, may be supposed more efllectual, than
scientific harmonies.

But the war-dance would seem to demand a
kind of music, making the strongest appeals to
the ruder passions of so rude a race. The most
prominfc:it instrument is the drum^ the construc-
tion of which, out of an old cast -by -keg, or
hollow trunk of a tree, I have already noticed.
For the present occasion the Winnebagoes, as I
had occasion to observe, took the keg, knocked
out one of the heads, stopped the bung-hole, put
a little water in the bottom, (the philosophical

'282

THE WAR-DANCE.

rf'3

use of the water I am ignorant of) and strctclied
a wet-deer skin over the other end, attached to
pegs rudely drove into the sides, and as rudely
twisted by the rudest sticks ; — the sticks making
so many levers, the fulcrum of which was the
attachment to the skin, and the power of tension
resting in the forementioned pegs ; under which
one extremity of each was forcibly brought. I
stood for a long time to witness the progress of
the simple art, by which this instrument was
constructed. And verily, to see half a dozen
men, gravely and passionately employed in such
a piece of work, and stretching their wits to
make it perfect, showing all the simplicity of so
many children of two and three years old, and
equally absorbed, as such children in their sim-
plest inventions — was humiliating and aftecting.
But to see those very men in a war-dance in the
evening, was a far different spectacle. When
the instrument, after so much pains, was sup-
posed to be perfect, one drew his knife from its
scabbard by his side, and from a knotty-green
stick, which happened to lie under his hand, in
two or three minutes, whittled out the only
drum-stick, about eight inches long, which was
necessary for the service ; and then applying it
to the drum, struck up the customary beat. In-
stantly every countenance of the anxious and

THE WAR-DANCE.

28S

ig It

In-

and

expectant group lighted up with joy, and a
sudden and chiniorous shout of applause, mingled
with the sounds of the drum, told most empha-
tically, that their whole heart was satisHed, and
that the instrument was perfect. The sound of
it is very like the common bass drum, and is
constructed upon the same principles. It is the
beating of this, which regulates in time all the
movements of the dance. The quickness of
the movement is perhaps somewhat more brisk,
than that commonly displayed in the dancing
assemblies of the whites. As for the graceful-
ness of the actors in the scene, I will say nothing.
Their motions are so peculiar, that I must despair
of describing them. It is rather a jump, than a
trip. It is not like the light, and sprightly, and
joyous dance of buoyant spirits, half the time
'twixt heaven and earth ; — the feet are scarcely
seen to rise above the ground — yet the body, by
rising a little from a stooping posture, seems to
perform a sort of leap; while both feet move
almost simultaneously, pressing the earth again
with such power of the superincumbent weight
and muscular exertion of the whole frame, as to
make the ground tremble at every ste}). A
single Indian will make the ground vibrate ; —
a troop of them will produce an effect like
the earthquake. It is the determination and

\.i2.i

Q8i

THE WAIl-DANCE.

P'^i

tremendous cliaractcr of their movements, wliich
tlevelope the passion of their souls.

I'he leader of the hand of a war-dance is
a stentorian vociferator, who seems to take his
key-note, hy rubbing a long notched wood pole,
with another piece of wood ; — that is, by this
most unharmonious grating, not of sounding
metals, but of ?/«-sounding wood, he strikes up a
most unharmonious effort of his lungs. Then
by great muscular exertion of his whole system,
inflating his lungs by a kind of convulsive gasp,
he gives a token ; and the band and dancers all
begin — drumming, singing, shouting, yelling,
dingling of metallic rods, and what not; — at one
time all running together a sort of chant, in a low
bass monotoUj ; then suddenly passing a wide
discreet interval, into a sharp falsetto, or scream,
which makes the Indian yell ; or what is more
commonly called the war-tvhooj). No one
could believe, did not his eye and ear together
certify him, that the two kinds of voice proceed
from the same beings. The Indian war-whoop
is a sharp, piercing falsette, as elevated as the
sharpest scream of a woman in a fright, broken
and trilled, or made tremulous, by the mechanical
play of the finger on the lips. This ivhoop is
repeated by all the dancers every two, or three
minutes, and seems to be a kind of letting off, or

THE WAR-DANCE.

QS5

explosion of the hifi^hest possible degree of ex-
citement. It is startling and frightful beyond
description, breaking, as it does, unexpectedly
from a multitude of voices. Even when one has
heard it a thousand times in succession, and
in the same dance, it always comes unexpected.
The transition of voice is so sudden and violent,
so characteristically diverse from the low and
monotonous movement, which precedes and
follows ; so unearthly ; so like the ideal concep-
tion of the sudden breaking loose of hell itself
in triumph— that one involuntarily trembles with
fear and shudders with horror.

And the other accompaniments of this scene :
the naked savage, painted in the most horrible
forms, with a crown of feathers brist''ng from his
head ; his eye and every feature mad with rage,
and dark as hell ; wielding and brandishing in
his hand the weapons of death ; his body in
perpetual and simultaneous movement, with the
music of the band and of his own voice, together
'' grating harsh thunder;" — himself at the same
time inclined, half-bent, like a man oppressed by
a heavy burden, darting with his naked and
uplifted weapons in closest contact with a multi-
tude of others, all accoutred like himself, and
like himself performing the same wild and inde-
scribable evolutions ; sometimes like lightning.

til

It J

88G

THE WAR-DANCE,

and then more circumspectly. A spectator of
such a scene fears every moment, that in their
apparent and wikl intoxication, they will wound,
or kill each other, by running against the naked
weai)ons, to which they are exj)osed in tlieir
sudden turnings and violent leaps ; and while
absorbed in this anxiety, or some other feeling
they have excited, they suddenly break into their
horrid yell, resembling what one would imagine
to be the laughing triumph of fiends, mingled
with the screams of the agonized sufferers they
have got in their power. Then again immediately
resuming their low and monotonous chant, and
the wild fierce dance, they work up their own
passions, and the interest of spectators to the
highest possible pitch, till, with a surprise as
great as ever, their horrid yell bursts again upon
the ear, and all for a moment is still as death.
And so with the introduction of a thousa ^ '
successive novelties of a like startling character,
and often inspiring the beholder with absolute
horror, they continue for hours, and for a whole
night. And if such are the exhibitions of mere
sport, what must they be, when the scene is
enacted in earnest, and in preparation for actual

war

One part of the war-dance, which may pro-
perly be called beating for recruits, (and such

TIIF, WAR-DANCE.

2S7

indeed is its whole cliaracter and errand intention)
is peeuliaiiy significant and impressive. A small
group, or b-^nd of c/tal/cf/gers, as they might be
termed, wlio are also the principal musicians for
the occasion, take their seats, squattJ'd in close
contact on the margin of an open space, left
vacant for the dance; — or for those who may
successively obey the call of their tribe to arms.
A riHe, tomahawk, or some other weapon of war,
is laid upon the ground, in this open space, as
a gauntlet, itself challenging the surrounding
warriors to come and take it up : and the act of
grasping and lifting this weapon, is the act of
enlistment. All things being prepared, and the
warriors in attendance, the group upon the
ground, having received the token from the
leader, standing by, strike up the war-song with
their voice and instruments, the language and
appeal of which is : ' Do you see that weapon i
Do you understand it, warriors ? — Who will take
it up?' — And the challengers grow more and
more impassioned and violent, if there is any
hesitation, until some warrior from the crowd,
steps out into the vacant space, and begins to
dance, time-keeping with the drum, with his eye
fixed upon the gauntlet, but reluctant, refusing to
take it up. The band aggravate their din and cla-
mour, to urae him to the decisive action. Still he

^88

THE WAR-DANCE.

looks upon the weapon, dances round it, points to
it with his finger, and performs innumerable and
most extravagant feats of jumping and significant
gesticulations ; and still the challengers urge him
on. He seems to be revolving the possible
results of the war to himself, to his family and
friends, and counts the cost in every shape ; — and
then imagines he hears the call of his nation to
arms. He comes yet nearer to the weapon,
and then springs back, as if frightened at
the consequences of taking it up. The chal-
lengers rebuke him for his indecision. Again
he approaches the weapon, and dances round
it, and round it, extends his hand as if to
take it up, and then starts back at some sudden
and forbidding thought. Louder still, and still
more earnest, the beating rolls ; and the voices of
the band and all their instruments grow more
clamorous and deafening ; every few moments
raising the war-whoop. Like as the bird, spell-
bound and charmed by a serpent, flutters and
circles in the air, struggling in vain to escape,
and drawing nearer and nearer to the object of
her dread — at last makes a sudden and desperate
plunge ; — so he springs upon the weapon of death,
grasps it firmly in his hand, and lifts himself
erect. Then in an instant shouts cf exultation
rend the air, from all the assembled multitude —

THE WAR-DANCE.

289

and his name and hand are now pledged. Next,
with the weapon in hand, and still dancing to tlie
music, he performs successively, and with all his
characteristic cunning, the various feats of dis-
covering, shooting, and scalping an enemy. This
done, he replaces the weapon where he took it
up, takes his seat with the challenging group, till
the same round has added another to their num-
ber, and another; — and so they fill the ranks
for war.

In the midst of these sports of the Winne-
bagoes, and while at the highest pitch of their
interest; the scene of which was laid on the
south bank of the river, and directly before the
door of the inn, where the Commissioners and
strangers lodged; — sports, which to us had
already grown sufficiently grave, not to say
frightful ; — while the shades of the evening
began to impart to them a character still more
impressive, and no small crowd of white men
and the natives were hanging over the exhibition,
wrapped in the intensest interest ; — in an instant,
and with a suddenness as startling, as the explo-
sion of heaven's artillery, a tremendous wnr-
u'/toop rent the air from behind us ; — and as soon
as the thunder follows the flash which wakens it,
a horde of savage warriors, in their most hideous
forms, and all accoutred in their weapons of

VOL. I. O

290

THE WAR-DANCE.

\mh: K

If ' . i

death, pounced into the midst of the throng,
driving the Winnebagoes from their dancing
arena, and occupied it themselves. Did ye ever
see a flock of slieep scatter and fly before the
sudden rush of a merciless crew of dogs upon
them ? That is the picture of the scampering of
this gazing and motley throng. Even the Com-
missioners lost their dignity and self-possession,
and were no less anxious to save their lives, than
the meanest fellow in the crowd. All run — as well
they might — for nothing could have been more
astounding. As nobody, however, found himself
tomahawked, in the first onset, a greater portion
of the flying herd turned to look again, and see
what this might be. Among the rest I turned ; —
and a strange and ominous spectacle presented.
The Winnebagoes looked in sullen silence on
these intruders, far outnumbering themselves,
and presenting altogether a more hideous aspect ;
the intruders looked on them ; and never did
two armies of wild beasts, of diverse, but ferocious
character, meet and look each other in the face,
with more dubious intent.

Four-legs, the chief of the Winnebagoes, who
had made a rare figure a day or two before, as an
orator, in the Council ; and who seemed on that
occasion to be for peace, was destined to act a
different part in the present juncture. With all

THE WAR-DANCE.

291

the pride and dignity of the head man of his
nation, he had stood wrapped in his blanket,
looking with infinite satisfaction on the feats of
his warriors, as they enlisted one after another,
obeying the challenge, and taking up the gaunt-
let, to show the white man, how the Indians do
such things. His squaw (wife) stood by his side,
enjoying the scene. A long spear, or javelin,
rested on the ground at his feet, running up
under his folded arms, and lifting its burnished
bhide above his head ; while one hand grasped
the hilt of a broad-sword ; — both of which weapons
had been sent him by his great father from
Washington ; — and which he always carried, and
was proud to show. It was not deemed con-
sistent with his importance to join his warriors
in the exei ises of this occasion. He only pre-
sided, and smiled his approbation at their excel-
lent doings. But when this outrageous insult
was offered to himself and his tribe, his brow
gathered darkness, he threw his blanket from
his shoulders, and stepping before this ferocious
band of intruders, with an aspect and determina-
tion, not to be mistaken, he delivered a short,
but far different oration from that which he
uttered before the Commissioners. I understood
it to be, in substance, as follows : —

" Miscreants! I am chief of the M'inncba-

OQt>

THE WAR-DANCE.

^s ;

goes. If my warriors had done this deed, I
would have pierced their hearts with this javehn,
and cut them in pieces with this sword, and given
their flesh to the dogs ! Your tribe know the
strength of this arm, and the courage of my
warriors. Be gone ! — and await the vengeance
I shall give you ! "

And as he pointed the way with his spear, the
Menomenies sullenly retired, just without the
circle, which had been occupied by the Winne-
bagoes, and commenced ilte'ir war-dance, in de-
fiance of the threats of the Winnebago chief. The
Menomenie warriors had been engaged in the same
ceremonies on the opposite side of the river ; —
but not having being able to attract a satisfac-
tory amount of attention, and perceiving that the
Winnebagoes were getting all the praise, they
had resolved upon the stratagem of crossing the
stream below, under cover of the evening, and
making this surprise ; and a most effectual sur-
prise indeed it was. Nor did it end here.

The war-dance of the Menomenies proceeded
simultaneously with that of the Winnebagoes, so
near, that one group almost interfered with the
movements of the other. It was verily a rival
exhibition of a grave and portentous character.
As the Menomenies were more numerous, and
had taken special pains in their preparations, they

THE WAR-DANCE.

really made the greatest and most attractive
show. The wrath o^ Four-legs was kindled withiii
him. He threw his javelin upon the ground, and
stepped forth upon the arena, as was well under-
stood, for this particular juncture. He fixed his;
eye upon his weapon ; then looked round upon
his warriors; then pointed to the Menomenies,
who had dared to insult them ; then displayed the
symbols of his chieftainship about his person,
and shook the fox-tails, which hung from his
knees, by putting his right hand to one and his
left to the other. And this done, to prove his
importance, he commenced a wild and frantic
dance with a muscular energy, which made tl)e
ground tremble beneath his feet; approached his
javelin and retreated in the usual forms, and with
many others peculiar to himself; keeping time
with the beat of the drum, and animated by the
clamorous appeals of his warriors, as they shouted
and whooped. By and by, as his passions were
wrought to the highest pitch, he plunged and
seized the javelin with a mad and convulsive
grasp, darted like lightning into the midst of the
Menomenies, and instantly returned, leading two
of their warrior chiefs captive, and presented them
in triumph before his own. It was an unex-
pected and resistless feat, and big with portentous

:i!

meaning. The Menomenies were compelled t

()

ill

:^94.

THE WAR-DANCE.

one of two alternatives : — either to suffer it as
an atonement for their insult, or quarrel on the
instant. And for a few moments there was an
awful i)ause ; — and by the significant and angry
murmurs > which passed between the parties, it
seemed doubtful which way it would turn. The
})iisoners however^ at last affected to take it in
sport, submitted to a brief detention, and were
then dismissed. I was told, that more trifling
incidents than this have bred Indian wars.

Truly 1 and many others v/ere glad, when
this afFah* was over. It gave to the sports of the
evening a most grave and serious aspect; and
ail expected a quarrel during the night. Till
morning came again, the whole region rung with
the most frightful savage yells; — yells, which,
begun for amusement, threatened to end in blood.
So untamed, fierce, and ungovernable are the
passions of these wild children of the forest.
But especially was it a perilous night, in conse-
(juence of the previous and generous distribution
of strong drink, dealt out by those, who had
instigated the exhibition. An Indian, mad with
liquor and passion combined, is of all beings the
most uncertain and dangerous. I do not for
myself desire to witness the lenewal of such a
scene.

'I iii) amazing power of panto?/iime was most

THE WAR-DANCE.

^>95

wonderfully displayed in all these exhibitions of
the war-dance. For all the interpretations here
given, I am indebted alone to the intelligible and
indubitable language of this art. To satisfy
myself of their correctness, I made particular
inquiry of those who understood the meaning of
these customs.

The following poetic description of a war-dance
may be pertinent here : —

" A hundred warriors now advance,
All dress'd and painted for the dance,
And sounding club and hollow skin
A slow and mcasur'd time begin ;
With rigid limb and sliding foot,
And murmurs low the time to suit;
For ever varying with the sound,
The circling band moves round and round.
Now slowly rise the swelling notes.
When every crest more lively floats ;
Now toss'd on high with gesture proud,
Then lowly 'mid the circle bow'd ;
While clanging arms grow louder still.
And ev'ry voice becomes more shrill,
Till fierce and strong the clamour grows.
And the wild war-whoop bids it close.
Then starts Skunktonga forth, whose band
Came far from Huron's storm-beat strand,
And thus recounts h... battle feats.
While his dark club the measure beats."

Poem of Ontwa.

While writing these pages I iiave received the
following account of a war dance among the

296

THE WAR-DANCE.

\ \

Osages in the Arkansas Territory, west of the
Mississippi, and some 1500 or 2000 miles distant
from the scene already presented ; communicated
by a gentleman, who witnessed what he describes,
and long known to me by reputation, though not
personally. It is especially interesting, as it was
an earnest preparation for actual war, and not an
exhibition for amusement. The likeness will be
sufficiently apparent, as having the common
characteristics of the American war-dance ; al-
though the Osages and the North- West tribes
are too distant, to be in habits of communication
with each other. The letter is dated the 25th of
July, 1832.

extract:

"In our late tour through the Osage villages,
we fell on the Little Osage town, when it was
all alive with a war-dance. The warriors, or
braves, fitted out in their wild, fantastic style,
were all assembled. As we approached, a runner
met us, and asked of our interpreter our business,
but did not offer us his hand. This was not
owing to ill-will, but to custom. Their war-
dances are their most sacred seasons. During
the ceremony, they separate themselves from the
touch of the vulgar anu the profane. Being told
our business, he run back and reported ; and our

fi'i

THE WAR-DANCE.

>■

approach seemed to cause neither derangement,
nor suspension. We eagerly rode up to tl;
scene of action ; getting our horses as near a>:
we could, although they were frightened by the
music, the feathers, shields, and the star-spangled
banner of the United States, fluttering in the
wind.*

'* The position in which we found these
warriors, was that of a large ring, on< .ncle
standing, and another squatting, and all facing
towards the centre of the circle. Well, what
does this mean ? What next ? Sooner than
thought could fancy an answer, one of the circle
partly rises with his shield in one hand and
tomahawk in the other, and dances towards the
centre — first facing this, and then that way,
holding his shield first on this, then on that side,
and then occasionally making a brandish with his
tomahawk — as though he were saying : * See,
my comrades in arms — see how I will defend
myself with this hand and this shield, while with
this I will level my foe.' Having proceeded to
the centre, lie returned and squatted in his place.

* It has been before observed in this volume, that tlie In-
dian chiefs under the jurisdiction of the United Stat'-., art
accustomed to receive the flag of the Union, a present iVom
Government, in token of their alliance, which they are oener.ilh
proud to display.

lids

THE WAR-DANCE.

V >"'i

Another then performed a similar feat, and then
another, till all had given a specimen, by way of
anticipation and sample of their approaching con-
flict and expected victory. Meantime the ho.irse
hollow sounding criers, who appeared to be already
exhausted by constantly overstraining their voices,
in their zeal to make those hear, who stood only
a very short distance — stood yelling, with their
hands bracing their empty stomachs, and exciting
the warriois to bloody deeds. One, perhaps,
had lost a wife, another a child, or they repre-
sented those who had lost them, and now they
were inspiring these pledged warriors to be
courageous, and bring home a scalp, and so
avenge their loss.

" There was much variety in the costume of
these Indians. Some wore the skins of white
wolves, a large species found at the west in their
hunting excursions — which hang down behind,
with the face, eyes, and nose of the animal
shooting above the head of the wearer. Others
wore ravens' beaks, or eagles' claws — and all ex-
hibited from their persons some terrific emblem.
One wore a snake's skin, suspended from his
neck, and reaching to the ground. I said to
him : ' What a serpent !' He answered by snap-
ping at me so sharply, as to startle me. This
proved quite amusing to his comrades. All were

THE WAR. DANCE.

'299

entirely naked, except the usual flap, and their
bodies were painted black — black as the sooty
African. Of all the human beni^^s I ever -^aw,
none approached so near my idea of devils.

*' Much of the ceremony consisted in a sort ol
dancing march round the streets of the village,
between their lodges. Their dancing has nothing
to do with the light trip of the foot. It is pro-
perly a pounding of the earth with both feet at
once. As they passed us, it seemed as if a little
earthquake was passing by. The Osages, and
I think all other Indians whom I have seen, in
their dances, strike the earth with both feet
simidtaneously, jumping along with their bodies
bent, their faces first turned this way and then
that, first looking askance under one arm, and
then turning a wild vacant look over the other
shoulder: and all the while brandishing shields,
tomahawks, &c.

"In their inarching round the settlement, the
warriors were followed by a band of musicians,
some rattling the gourd shell, some drumming
on a piece of deer skin, stretched over the head
of a keg, and others singing their 'vild songs.
Among the retinue I observed a great many
youths, who appeared to be young disciples,
catching the spirit of their seniors and fathers.
Another group followed, who appeared to be

,300

THE WAR-DANCE.

mourners, crying for vengeance on their enemies,
to reward them for the death of some relative.

" So busily employed were these warriors, that
the ceremony ceased only for a small part of
the night. Early the next morning, before it
was yet day, we heard their music and singing,
and their stamping up and down the streets.
Our stay among them was about twenty-four
hours. When we arrived we found them en-
gaged in the ceremony, and when we left they
had not finished. It is attended with extreme
fasting — for their custom forbids them to eat
before the sun sets. And I believe they often
fast, eating only once a day, till the war is con-
cluded, and they return home with their scalps
victorious. They are not allowed moreover to
eat with their families ; they must sleep sepa-
rately, must go naked, the flap e: cepted; offer
many prayers, and as the climax of all, sacrifice
a dog. In this last ceremony they were engaged,
as we left the village, — for we saw two or three
warriors most ceremoniously washing the parts of
the victim at a stream, which we had to pass."

CHAPTER XXV.

SPECIMENS OF INDIAN SPEECHES OF FORMER
TIMES, WITH ANECDOTES.

The speeches and anecdote^ of this chapter
are introduced, not so much because they have
an immediate connexion with the main design of
this work, as because they are interesting rehcs
of Indian oratory of earher times, and specimens
of their primitive heroism and nobleness of cha-
racter. They are inserted, as nearly as I can
ascertain, in the order of time, decreasing in
interest, and seeming to prove, in some respects,
a degeneracy of the race in consequence of their
contact with Europeans.

The following is the harangue of a sachem, or
chief, who wished to excite his warriors to
revenge the spoliations of the grave of his
mother, when he pretended, that the first settlers
of the Plymouth colony had stolen the skins and
defaced the monuments, piously deposited and

Ml/ .

S02

INDIAN SPEECHES

i,i

set round his parent's tomb. I do not remember
at this moment from what autliority I made the
extract. It must be allowed to be a masterly
appeal to a savage race : —

" When last the glorious light of the sky
was underneath this globe, and birds grew silent,
I began to settle, as my custom is, to take repose.
Before mine eyes were fast closed, methought I
saw a vision, at which my spirit was much
troubled, and, tremblinp; at that doleful sight, a
spirit cried aloud : — * Behold, my son, whom 1
have cherished ; see the breasts, that gave thee
suck — the hand that wrapped thee warm, and fed
thee oft ! Canst thou forget to take revenge of
those wild people, who have defaced my monu-
ment in a despiteful manner, disdaining our
antiquities and honourable customs? See now,
the sachem's mother's grave lies like the
common people, defaced by an ignoble race !
Thy mother doth complain, and implores thy aid
against this thievish people, who have .lewly
intruded in our land. If this be suffered, 1
shall not rest quiet in my everlasting habitation.'
This said, the spirit vanished, and I all in a
sweat not able scarce to speak, began to get
some strength, and recollect my spirits, that were
fled; and determined to demand your counsel,
and solicit your assistance."

AND ANECDOTES.

308

The two following brief speeches I cannot
(late. The first is affecting ; the second, from
Adair, is highly rhetorical ; — and so indeed is
the first.

" We are driven back," said an old warrior,
" until we can retreat no further. Our hatchets
are broken ; our bows are snapped ; our fires
are nearly extinguished ; a little longer, and the
white man will cease to persecute us : — for we
shall cease to exist."

Speech of an Indian Captain to his ]Vaniors,

hij Ada IK.

"Your chief knew, that your guns were
burning in your hands ; that yowr tomahawks
were thirsting for the blood of your enemies:
that your trusty arrows were impatient to be on
the wing ; and lest delay should burn your
hearts any longer, I say : Join the holy ark ; and
away to cut oflf'your devoted enemies."

"In the spring of 1774," says Thatcher's
Indian Biography, referring to Jefferson's Notes
on Virginia, " a robbery and murder occurred
in some of the white settlements on the Ohio,
which were charged to the Indians, though
perhaps not justly ; for it is wtII known, that

f i

304'

INDIAN SPEECHES

a large number of civilized (?) adventurers were
traversing the frontiers at this time, who some-
times disguised themselves as Indians, and who
thought little more of killing one of that people
(the Indians) than siiooting a buffalo. A party
of these men, land-jobbers and others, undertook
to punish the outrage in this case, according to
their custom, as Mr. Jefferson expresses it, ' in a
summary way.'

" Colonel Cresap, a man infamous for the
many murders he had committed on that much-
injured people, collected a party, and proceeded
down the Kanawa in quest of vengeance.
Unfortunately a canoe of women and children,
with one man only, was seen coming from the
opposite shore, unarmed, and not at all suspect-
ing an attack from the whites. Cresap and his
party concealed themselves on the bank of the
river, and the moment the cenoe reached the
shore, singled out their objects, and at one fire
killed every person in it. This happened to be
the family of Logan.

" It was not long after this, that another
massacre took place, under still more aggravated
circumstances, not far from the present site of
Wheeling, Virginia — a large party of Indians
being decoyed by the whites, and all murdered
with the exception of a llitie girl. Among these

AND ANECDOTES.

305

too were a brother and sister of Logan ; and the
delicate situation of the latter increased a
thousand-fold both the barbarity of the crime
and the rage of the survivors of the family.

** The vengeance of the chieftain was indeed
provoked beyond endurance ; and he accordingly
distinguished himself in the daring and bloody
war that ensued."

When peace was made, in 1775, Logan sent
the following speech to Lord Dunmore, by the
hand of a messenger, but would not con-
descend to appear in person : —

Speech of Logan, to Lord Dunmore, in

1775.

" I appeal to any white man to say, if he ever
entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him
no meat ; if he ever came cold and naked, and
Logan clothed him not. During the course of
the last long and bloody war, Logan remained
idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such
was my love for the white man, that my country-
men pointed, as they passed, and said : Logan is
the friend of white men. I had thought to have
lived with you, but for the injuries of one man.
Colonel Cresapf the last spring, in cold blood.

306

INDIAN SPEECHES

ii. "

and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of
Logan, not sparing even my women and chil-
dren. There runs not a drop of his blood in the
veins of any living creature. This called on me
for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed
many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For
my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace.
But do not harbour a thought, that mine is the
joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will
not turn on his heel, to save his life. Who is
th^re to mourn for Logan ? A^ot one.''

" They left of all my tribe

Nor man, nor cliikl, nor thinpjs of living birth:

No, not the dog, that watch'd my household hearth

Escap'd their thirst of blood upon our plains !

All perished ! I alone am left of earth !

To whom, nor relative, nor blood remains,

No, not a kindred drop, that runs in liuman veins !"

Cavipbe/l.

General Knox said to a chief, in New York,
1789, "You look sorry, brother. What is the
matter?"

THE CHIEF S ANSWER :

" I'll tell you, brother. I have been looking
at your beautiful city — the great water — your
fine country — and sec how happy you all are.
And then I thought : — this was ours. My an-
cestors lived here. They enjoyed this ground

AND ANECDOTES.

307

in peace, as their own. It was the gift of the
Great Spirit to them and their children. At last
the white people came here in a great canoe.
They asked only, that we would let them tie it
to a tree, lest the waters should carry it away.
We said : — Yes. They then said, that some of
their people were sick, and asked, if they might
bring them ashore, and put them under the
shade of the trees? We said: — Yes. Then
the winter and ice came ; and they asked leave
to build wigwams, and live in them, for the
winter. We said : — Yes. Then they asked for
corn to keep them from starving ; and we gave it
them. But we said : You must go away, when
the winter is gone. And they said : — Yes. But
when the spring came, and we told them : '' You
must go;" — they pointed us to their big guns,
which were planted round their wigwams, and
said: — " A^o — we will stay." And we could not
drive them away. Afterwards more came. They
brought strong water, and gave it to the Indians
for land. At last they drove us back, far from
the water, and the fish, and the oysters, into the
woods. They destroyed our game ; — and our
people have wasted away. And see ! how you
grow up in their place ! This makes me sorry,
brother ; and I cannot help it." — Star in the
West,

308

INDIAN SPEECHES

f s-

Speech of Cornplanter to General Wash-
ington, in 1790.

*' Father, When your army entered the coun-
try of the six nations, we called you the town-
destroyer ; and to this day, when your name is
heard, our women look behind them, and turn
pale ; and our children cling close to the necks
of their mothers. But our counsellors and
warriors, being men, cannot be afraid. But their
hearts are grieved by the fears of our women and
children ; and desire, that the tomahawk may
be buried so deep, as to be heard of no more.
Father, we will not conceal from you, that the
Great Spirit, and not man, has preserved Corn-
planter from the hands of his own nation. For
they ask continually, where is the land, on which
our children and their children are to lie down
upon ? You told us, say they, that a line, drawn
from Pennsylvania to Lake Ontario, would mark
it for ever on the east ; and a line, running from
Beaver Creek to Pennsylvania, would mark it
on the west. But we see, that it is not so. For
first one, then another comes and takes it away
by order of that people ; who, you told us, pro-
mised to secure it to us for ever, Cornplanter
is silent (to them), for he has nothing to answer.
When the sun goes down, Cornplanter opens

AND ANECDOTES.

309

his heart before the Great Spirit ; and earher
than the sun appears again upon the hills, he
gives thanks for his protection during the night ;
for he feels, that while in the midst of men, who
have become desperate by the injuries they have
sustained, it is God only that can preserve him.
Cornplanter loves peace. All he had in store,
he has given to those, who have been robbed by
your people ; lest they shpuld plunder the inno-
cent to repay themselves.

*' The whole season, which others have em-
ployed in providing for their families, Cornplanter
has spent in endeavours to preserve peace. And
at this moment his wife and children are lying on
the ground, and in want of food. His heart is in
pain for them. But he perceives, that the Great
Spirit will try his firmness in doing what is right.

" Father! Innocent men of our nation are
killed, one after another, though of the best
families ; but none of your people, who have
committed these murders, have been punished.
We recollect, that you did promise to punish
those who should kill our people. And we
ask : — was it the intention, that your people
should kill the Senecas, and not only remain
unpunished, hut be protected from the next of
kin ? Father ; these, to us, are great things.
We know, that you are very strong. We have
heard, that you are wise. But we shall wait to

it'

310

INDIAN SPEECHES

§1-

*;s

«n

hear your answer to this, that we may knov/,
that you are just."

Speech of a Pawnee Chief to Mr. Moniioi:,
President of the United States, delivered at
Washington.

" Mij great Father. I have travelled a great
distance to see you. I have seen you, and my
heart rejoices. I have heard your words. They
have entered one ear, and shall not go out at the
other. And I will carry them to my people, as
pure as they came from your mouth,

" Mtj great Father. 1 am going to speak the
truth. The Great Spirit looks down upon us, and
I call him to witness all that may pass between us
on this occasion. If I am here now, and have seen
your people, your houses, your vessels on the
big lake, and a great many wonderful things far
beyond my comprehension, which appear to have
been made by the Great Spirit, and placed in
your hands; — I am indebted to my flilher here,*
who invited me from home, under whose wings
1 have been protected. Yes, my great Father, 1
have travelled with your chief. I have followed
him ; and trod in his tracks. But there is still
another great Father, to whom I am much in-
debted— the Father of us all : — He, who made
us, and placed us on this earth. 1 feel grateful

* Major O'Fallon.

AND ANECDOTES.

311

to the Great Spirit, for strengthening my heart
for such an undertaking, and for preserving tlie
life, which he gave me. The Great Spirit made
us all. He made my skin red, and yours white.
He placed us on this earth, and intended, that we
should live differently from each other. He made
the whites to cultivate the earth, and feed on tame
animals ; but he made us red skins to rove
through the wild woods and plains, to feed on
wild animals, and to dress in their skins. He
also intended, that we should go to war to take
scalps, steal horses, and triumph over our ene-
mies ; — to cultivate peace at home, and promote
the happiness of each other. I believe there are
no people of any colour, on this earth, who do
not believe in the Great Spirit — and in rewards
and punishments. We worship him ; but not
as you do. We differ from you in appearance
and in manners, as well as in our customs ;
and we differ from you in our religion. We
have no large houses, as you have, to worship the
Great Spirit in. If we had them to-day, we
should want them to-morrow ; for we have not,
like you, a fixed habitation. We have no settled
home, except our villages, where we remain but
two moons in twelve. We, like brutes, rove
through the country ; while you, whites, reside
between us and heaven. But still, my great
Father, we love the Great Spirit; we acknow-

S12

INDIAN SPEECHES

i W

I ■

1 1

ledge his supreme power ; our peace, our health,
and our happiness depend upon him ; and our
lives belong to him. He made us, and he can
destroy us.

" Aft/ great Father. 1 Mill not tell a lie. I
am going to tell the truth. You love your coun-
try ; you love your people ; you love tiie manner,
in which they live ; and you think your people
brave. T am like you, my great Father : — I
love my country ; I love my people ; I love the
manner, in which thoy live ; and think myself
and warriors brave. Spare me, then, my Father.
Let me enjoy my country, pursue the buffalo,
and the beaver, and the other wild animals of our
wilderness ; and I will trade the skins with your
people. I have grown up and lived thus long
without work. I am in hopes you will suffer me
to die without it. We have yet plenty of buffalo,
beaver, deei, and other wild animals; we have
also an abundance of horses. We have every
thing we want. We have plenty of land — if yoti
wifl keep your people off of it. Let me continue
to live, as I have done — until I shall have passed
to the Good, or Evil Spirit, from the wilderness
of my present life.

" There was a time, when we did not know
the whites. Our wants were fewer then, than
they are now. They were always within con-
trolc We had ilien seen nothing, which we

AND ANECDOTES.

313

could not get. But since our intercourse with
the whites, who have caused such a destruction
of our game, our situation is changed. We
could lie down to sleep, and when we awoke, we
could find the buffalo, feeding around our camp.
But now we are killing them for their skins, ami
feeding the wolves with their flesh, to make our
children cry over their bones.

" Here, my great Father, is a pipe, which I
present you, (handing it to the president) as I
am accustomed to present pipes to all red skins
in peace with us. It is filled with such tobacco,
as we smoked before we knew the white people.
I know, that the buffalo robes, leggins, (gaiters)
moccasins, bears' clav/s, 8:c. are of little value to
you ; — but we wish to have them deposited and
preserved in some conspicuous place in your
lodge ; so that when we are gone, and the sod
turned over our bones, if our children should
visit this place, as we do now, they may see and
recognize with pleasure the deposits of their
fathers, and reflect on the times that are past."

Anecdote of a Paivnee Brave*

" The facts in the following anecdote of a
Pawnee Brave, son of Old Knife , one of the

* The Braves are warriors, who have distinguishcil thtin-
selvcs in battle, and stand highest in the estimation of the
tribe.

VOL. I. P

'^'^i

•ft; •!

i -■ •?^

314

INDIAN SPEECHES

delegation, who visited Washington in 1821-22,
higliiy creditable to his courage, his generosity,
and his humanity, were taken, by permission,
from a very interesting manuscript Journal of
Captain Bell, of his expedition with Major Long,
to the foot ot the Rocky Mountains, in 1821,
and are sanctioned by Major O'Fallon, Indian
agent, near the scene of the transaction here
related ; and also by the interpreter, who wit-
nessed the scene.

" This Brave, or warrior, of fine size, figure,
ttnd countenance, is now (1822) about twenty-five
years old. At the age of twenty-one, his heroic
deeds had acquired for him in his nation, the rank
of " the bravest of the Braves" The savage
practice of torturing and burning to death their
prisoners, existed in this nation. An unfortunate
female, taken in war, of the Paduca nation, was
destined to this horrible death. The fatal hour
had arrived. The trembling victim, far from her
home and her friends, was fastened to the stake.
The whole tribe was assembled on the surround-
ing plain to witness the awful scene. Just when
the funeral pile was to be kindled, and the whole
multitude of spectators were on the tiptoe of
expectation, this young warrior, having unnoticed
prepared two fleet horses, with the necessary
provisions, sprang from his seat, rushed through
the crowd, liberated the victim, seized her in his

AND ANECDOTES.

315

arms, placed her on one of the horses, and
hiounting the other himself, he made the utmost
(speed towards the nation and friends of the cap-
tive. The multitude, dumb and nerveless with
amazement at the daring deed, made no effort
to rescue their victim from her deliverer. They
viewed it as the immediate act of the Great
Spirit, submitted to it without a murmur, and
quietly retired to their village. The released
captive was accompanied three days through the
wilderness towards her home. He then gave
her the horse, on which she rode, with the neces-
sary provisions for the remainder of their journey,
and they parted. On his return to the village,
such was his popularity, no inquiry was made
into his conduct, no censure was passed upon it.
And since this transaction, no human sacrifice
has been offered in this, or in any other of
the Pawnee tribes. The practice is abandoned.
Of what influence is one bold act in a good

cause

" The publication of this anecdote at Washing-
ton, led the young ladies of Miss White's semi-
nary in that city, in a manner highly creditable
to their good sense and good feeling, to present
this Brave and humane Indian, with a handsome
silver medal, with appropriate inscriptions, as a
token of their commendation of the noble act of
rescuing one of their sex, an innocent victim.

' 1

31G

I^.DIAN SPEECHES.

from a cruel death. Their address to the chief
closes, as follows : —

" Br other J Accept this token of our esteem ; —
always wear it for our sakes ; — and when again
you have the power to save a poor woman from
death and torture, think of this, and of us, and
fly to her relief and rescue."

REPLY.

" Brothers and Sisters: — This (the medal)
will give me ease, more than I ever had; and
I w'il listen more than I ever did to whit^^ men.
I am glad, that my brothers and sisters Iiave
heard of the good act that I have done. My
brothers and sisters think, that I lid it in igno-
rance; but I now know what I have done. 1
did do it in ignorance, and did not know, that I
did good. But by giving me this medal, 1 know
it." — Morse's Reportj ^'c.

■^7

END OF VOL. L

•., PIIINTER, IliieAD-STUEKT-niKL.

^7 ''

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