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Title: Tour of the American Lakes, and Among the Indians of the North-West Territory, in 1830, Volume 1 (of 2)

Author: Calvin Colton

Release date: June 24, 2017 [eBook #54974]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Wayne Hammond and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        file was produced from images generously made available
        by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOUR OF THE AMERICAN LAKES, AND AMONG THE INDIANS OF THE NORTH-WEST TERRITORY, IN 1830, VOLUME 1 (OF 2) ***




Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Wayne Hammond and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)









  TOUR

  OF

  THE AMERICAN LAKES,

  AND AMONG

  THE INDIANS

  OF THE

  NORTH-WEST TERRITORY,

  IN 1830:


  DISCLOSING THE CHARACTER AND PROSPECTS OF THE
  INDIAN RACE.


  BY C. COLTON.


  IN TWO VOLUMES.
  VOL. I.


  LONDON:
  FREDERICK WESTLEY AND A. H. DAVIS,

  MDCCCXXXIII.




  LONDON

  R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD-STREET-HILL.




CONTENTS OF VOL. I.


                                                                  Page

  ADVERTISEMENT                                                     ix

  INTRODUCTION                                                      xi


  CHAP. I.

  The Falls of Niagara                                               1


  CHAP. II.

  Niagara Whirlpool                                                 12


  CHAP. III.

  Geographical description of the Great Lakes of North
  America                                                           21


  CHAP. IV.

  The Author’s motives for undertaking the _Tour_; character
  of wild Indians                                                   28


  CHAP. V.

  Romantic expectations; impressions of nursery tales
  respecting Indians; the savage proper; embarkation
  from Buffalo; beauties of Lake Erie; arrival
  at Detroit                                                        33


  CHAP. VI.

  History of Detroit:--early trading posts; Pontiac’s
  conspiracy; Detroit saved; Pontiac’s death; description
  and beauties of the Territory of Michigan                         40


  CHAP. VII.

  Remarkable instance of capital crime                              48


  CHAP. VIII.

  Embarkation from Detroit; Captain Symmes’s theory
  of the earth; sail over Lake St. Clair; interest of
  the scene; delta of the River St. Clair; relics of
  French population; a picture of French and Indians                54


  CHAP. IX.

  River St. Clair; visit to Fort Gratiot; memoranda of
  Lake Huron:--wild and picturesque 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 encampment;
  their lodges; the Indian paddle quicker than
  steam; the Indian’s love of money and whiskey;
  an Indian salute; and several interesting incidents
  of the passage among the islands of the north
  margin of Huron                                                   63


  CHAP. X.

  Arrival at the _Saut de St. Marie_; origin of this name;
  the Falls; an interesting young lady, whose mother
  was an Indian and her father a Scotchman; peculiar
  and moral power of Indian languages                               80


  CHAP. XI.

  Voyage from the Saut de St. Marie to Green Bay;
  the thirty-two thousand islands; the scenery they
  create; description of Michillimackinack; the sugar-loaf
  and arched rock; arrival at Green Bay in the
  North-West Territory                                              88


  CHAP. XII.

  Political relations of the American Indian tribes; their
  rights ostensibly, but not really respected; the pre-emption
  right and its operation; the original claims
  of Europeans a precedent; late juridical decision
  of the American Supreme Court; Great Britain
  and the United States both responsible in the treatment
  and for the fate of the Indians                                   96


  CHAP. XIII.

  Vindication of the American Indians from the charge
  of being Savages; their domestic affections kind and
  amiable; their savage passions 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 European race                                   109


  CHAP. XIV.

  Gradual extinction of the Eastern tribes; the New
  York tribes advised to remove to the North-West
  Territory; concurrence of the General Government
  in the plan; parts of the Indians agree to it; the
  nature of the understanding; their purchase of land
  and removal; their expectations; their disappointment;
  supposed scheme for breaking up this new
  arrangement, and the result of it; the reasons for
  this narrative; extracts from the Rev. Dr. Morse’s
  Report to Congress, evincing the views then entertained
  in regard to this removal of the New York
  Indians                                                          122


  CHAP. XV.

  The design of the Commission of 1830 to Green Bay;
  ignorance of Government of the state of the case;
  history of the title in dispute and the measures
  employed to invalidate it                                        144


  CHAP. XVI.

  Burning and massacre of Deerfield in Massachusetts;
  the infant daughter of the Rev. Mr. Williams
  snatched from the cradle, and carried into captivity;
  is retained, and marries an Indian Chief; her descendants;
  the Rev. Eleazer Williams, formerly of
  the St. Regis, now of the Oneida tribe, one of
  them; was brought to New England in childhood,
  and there educated; Mr. Williams and the Author
  school-fellows; Mr. Williams engaged in the American
  army during the late war; afterwards ordained
  to the Christian ministry by Bishop Hobart, and
  established among the Oneidas, near Utica                        154


  CHAP. XVII.

  The Rev. Mr. Williams takes the lead in the removal
  of the New York Indians to Green Bay; after a
  long separation, the Author meets him there in
  1830; 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. Williams’s developement
  of his plans; his disappointment                                 167


  CHAP. XVIII.

  An account of the Stockbridge tribe, and their settlement
  on Fox River; the Rev. John 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 religion;
  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 manners;
  an impromptu-Indian speech; Indian politeness;
  reflections                                                      185


  CHAP. XIX.

  The Oneida settlement at Duck Creek, under the care
  of the Rev. Mr. Williams; its flourishing condition;
  discouraging prospects of these tribes, and the disturbance
  of their relations with the ancient and
  wilder tribes of the territory                                   203


  CHAP. XX.

  The manner in which the Commission from Government
  summoned the Council; instructions imposed
  on the Commission, and difficulties created by them;
  assembling of the Indians, and the setting up of
  their encampments; modes of dress; a city of
  Indian lodges; demoralizing influence of these
  public councils; 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;[1] the
  different tribes represented in Council; modes of
  interpretation; the chastened oratory of the New
  York Indians; John Metoxen (a Stockbridge
  chief); his last Speech in Council; Indian shrewdness;
  oratory of the wild Indians, itself wild, but
  often powerful; piety of the Indians                             226


  CHAP. XXII.

  Charge of Indian affairs 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                                245


  CHAP. XXIII.

  Specimens of Indian speeches                                     252


  CHAP. XXIV.

  Freemasonry among the Indians; Medicine-dance;
  the faith of the Indians in its miraculous efficacy;
  the manner of it; it often kills the patient; the war-dance;
  account of one witnessed by the Author;
  the preparations; 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 piercing,
  startling effect; an unexpected and alarming
  incident;--a second war-dance among the Osages,
  west of the Mississippi                                          271


  CHAP. XXV.

  Specimens of Indian speeches of former times, with
  anecdotes:--the vision of an Indian chief, narrated
  by 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 answer
  to General Knox’s inquiry--“What is the
  matter, brother? You look sorry;” speech of _Cornplanter_
  to General _Washington_; of a Pawnee chief
  to President _Monroe_; anecdote of a Pawnee Brave                301




ADVERTISEMENT.


_Prefaces and Introductions are commonly esteemed the_ last _words of
the Author, put in the_ first _place, as his right rather than the
reader’s privilege, to vex and impede the inclination to get at the
main design; and for this reason are very often passed over. But the
Author begs leave to say--that in this instance, the Introduction is
the_ Key.

_It will be found, that the_ minor _part of the Title indicates the_
major _of the subject in respect to importance, though not perhaps in
matter for amusement_.




INTRODUCTION.


Why should this book be written? To give information. But was it
proper to come through such hands, and to be communicated in such
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 an opportunity of being present at a great
and eventful Council, composed of representatives of the chiefs of
several Indian nations and a Commission from the Government of the
United States, the developements of which were somewhat extraordinary
and extremely interesting. 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
opportunities were abundant. He had never meditated, however, any
public use of the observations he had made and of the information he
had been able to collect, until a year after his arrival in England;
when 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 question 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 subject of these pages. The
history of the American Indians is the _Romance of Fact_. It needs
not a single dash of the pencil--not a single ingredient of the
sentimentality of poetry, to give it life and power over the feelings.
The naked truth has in it more of poetry and a more energetic challenge
on the affections, than any possible embellishment, or fictitious
garniture, that could be thrown around it--more than any creations 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 embody them under 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 history_;--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 subject, as it stood
before his mind and rested upon 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 humanity, and though well
defined in the conscience of _the world_, are yet undefined and
unsettled in the _fact_ and operation of their social and political
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.

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 equal number of
Indians, more or less, upon their hands, in their North American
colonies; over whom their Colonial Governments are compelled to
legislate, and whose existence and future amelioration depend 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 injuries, which have
been suffered in the adjoining States. The Author ventures upon this
statement rather on the presumption afforded by the actual course of
events, than by his knowledge, that formal stipulations, defining
a different treatment, 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 developement. The
Author has endeavoured to show, that the salvation of the Indians, as
a race, depends jointly upon Great Britain and the United States; and
inasmuch as the crisis of their destiny has evidently arrived, it is
deemed proper and obligatory, that their case, with the history and
nature of their wrongs, should be laid without disguise before the
two communities--unless their doom must be considered as unavoidably
forestalled, and themselves abandoned to annihilation.

While the sympathies of the British nation are being roused--nay, are
actually alive and thoroughly challenged in behalf of the _black_
slave, it is perhaps the fittest moment to incorporate with the same
feelings the congenial sentiments 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 Great 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 measures of their
white neighbours. If the slaves of the British colonies have dwindled
in numbers, and the increase of nature been stifled in 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 sympathies and display its energies in behalf of the American
Aborigines. It is time at least that an expression of public sentiment
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
_now_ is the time to save the American Indian. And inasmuch, as the
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 have been
principally confined to the Government 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 _unexplained_; 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 remote 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 document of the Appendix from the
Governor of Georgia, that the recent election of the officers of the
General Government has not only approved the policy of removing the
Indians, but sanctioned the course of Georgia towards the Cherokees.
That justification, however, is to be regarded merely as _convenient_
in the circumstances, 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 treatment of the Indians,
which is here assumed as injurious; that, being taken by surprise,
it was impossible for a whole people, embarrassed by other and
all-absorbing questions, to apply an immediate remedy; that so far as
they have been informed, they have already expressed their strongest
sympathy; that nothing could remonstrate 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 the susceptibilities of the people to sympathize in
these wrongs and to repair them, so far as possible, are shewn partly
in their readiness to confess them; that the public opinion of the
world, seasonably expressed, or anticipated, must necessarily be no
unimportant ingredient in the measure of redeeming influences; and
that the best friends of the nation and of the 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 affair. 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.

       *       *       *       *       *

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 conscious 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 respect for the men at its head.
But on the _Indian question_ he is conscientiously and _toto cœlo_ 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 encroachment on their rights--that
he has undertaken 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 least 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, wishing 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 Government--a source now at the head of Indian
affairs--and may fairly be taken as the creed of principles, by which
those affairs 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 advanced with severity, he 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
application of the principles here contested. In that matter the
Author must stand at variance, from a full conviction, not only of the
Indian’s susceptibility 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 paramount influence of slavery.
It is well known, that ancient impulses of a vicious tendency, in
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 American Colonization Society has
begun to shed a most benign influence on the slavery of that country.
It has forced into public and universal discussion a question, which
the National Legislature, 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 foreign
nations are in relation to each other. But the Colonization Society
has commenced a career of extended and rapidly increasing influence,
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 to the violation of Indian
rights--it is no less true, that a slavery reformation has already
commenced and extensively infused its leaven throughout the mass of the
Slave States, by the instrumentality of the above-named institution.
While, therefore, the one agency is stated, as the result of remote
influences, for the time being uncontrolled in this, as well as in
other directions, it is not to be considered as impossible with the
contemporaneous existence and increasing influence of the other. The
former may have and doubtless has produced the effect ascribed to it,
while the latter is gaining an ascendency, which at a later period
would entirely have prevented this deplorable issue.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Author has been aware, that these volumes will afford some
additional elements for those strictures and censures on the American
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 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, if they shall be
disposed to notice it 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 maintained, 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 sake of elevating itself by
comparison, when both, in the present imperfect state and imperfect
operation of their institutions, have their faults of this description.
Better, that 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 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 member
of a community of individuals may rightfully have a voice in all
the regulations enacted for the common good--so every member of the
community of nations is interested in the code of international law,
and may fairly claim its right in the discussion and settlement of
fundamental principles;--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 adjudication, 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.

       *       *       *       *       *

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 in foreign parts
perhaps more commonly, understood 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 a
trifling attempt. He may also add, that having on various occasions
complied with the requests of the Indians to assist them in their
communications with the official agents of Government, he necessarily
became acquainted with their peculiarities of thought, and feeling,
and modes of speech. One of their chiefs paid the Author the following
compliment 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 extracts from authorities, to which they are ascribed.

As the Rev. Mr. Williams, of the Oneida tribe, occupies a conspicuous
place in this work, the Author begs leave to say, that some very
trivial 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 with the Author,
in which he appears as the principal speaker, are a compressed and
comprehensive statement of the substance of numerous communications,
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
communication 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.

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 government, having come in contact and formed permanent
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 oppressions, 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 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
American Indians, have challenged public attention. And, as has been
before remarked, it has not been possible, within this period and in
existing circumstances, to bring in a remedy. The current of mischief
was too wide and deep and strong to be arrested, or turned in a day.

    _London, June, 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 impressive, 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 avalanche comes
thundering from its brow to worship at its feet; and he who happens
to be there perchance shall never come away. The wilderness has its
romantic and unexplored solitudes, and the desert its interminable
wastes, or its burning 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 recollections 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 rapidity; 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 another, until the mighty torrent,
descending a steep declivity, bounds over its broken and craggy bed,
itself as yet unbroken, so deep and measureless 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 descending 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 waters, 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. The firm rock, on which he
stands, shudders--himself shudders, while the 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 windings and
fitful moods, and with all the force of the tornado.

He may descend, if he will, (and he must be alike wanting in courage
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 bosom of the deep, as if curious
to witness more and all of the scene, himself may look _up_ on that
which just now, bending from above, he 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 stars are 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 competent
guide, and make his circuit over the broken fragments of the rocks, far
round and underneath the projecting and awful shelf, over which the
mighty tide takes its final plunge. And when perchance an eddying blast
shall burst 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 whitened 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 the superincumbent and rushing flood. Of that,
however, he must not think; in such predicament it were unpleasant. The
last fall of the kind, a few years since, which brought ten thousand
tons, or more, in a single mass, happened 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 that it was a rare and enviable privilege. Who can
well imagine the wild commotion and deafening 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 understood 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 painful emotions, by which the mind
of the beholder has been exercised,--at one time excited in admiration,
now rapt in ecstacy, and now overwhelmed by the mingled effect of
grandeur and 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 estimate 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 the left of _Goat Island_, on the _American_ side, and
witness a still more lofty cataract, but more modest, not yet presuming
to assert such profound 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 thickest and purest snow, reflected by the sun.

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 Shoe_, 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 descending from the Horse Shoe, suggests the
vastness of its volume, imparts to it the highest consideration, and
chains the mind with the intensest interest.

By the noble enterprise of a wealthy individual, 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 almost incredible achievement of human art, and
of human power over natural obstacles. To facilitate 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 inaccessible 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 rapidity
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 which
it rests, and the inevitable consequence, shocks the feelings with the
shuddering sensation 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 island. It is like as if a bridge had been made to the
moon, once as unexpected, and deemed alike impossible.

The views and aspects of this great wonder of nature are susceptible
of almost infinite change by the 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 control. Its
fountains are never dried, its torrents are never, like other floods,
increased or diminished. 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 beauties 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
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
magnificence, and of as much more attractive beauties, or dressed 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.




CHAPTER II.

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
distant excursion, in the summer of 1830, into the wild regions of the
_North West_, tenanted principally by _savages_, as they are commonly
called, but more reverently by the _aboriginal_ inhabitants 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,
that 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 Niagara river, and in length about
thirty miles--it being one of the channels in connexion, by 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, four miles in length, before the 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
succession of ages not to be counted. For the geologist, especially if
he be a Frenchman, does not deem himself obliged 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 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.[2]

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 Whirlpool, 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 compressed, 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 downward
course:--by which it will be seen, that a plural number of currents at
this point must necessarily cross each other between the surface and
the bed of the river, in the formation of this remarkable phenomenon.
It uniformly happens, 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 draft
of the whirlpool, and as they approach the vortex, are drawn in with
great rapidity, and submerged to descend no one knows how deep, until
by-and-by, following the currents, 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 British soldier upon a raft of palisades, which had been cut on the
margin of this basin for the fortifications at Queenston, was sent
adrift into this whirlpool by the parting of a 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 extending 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 sufferings. And when
they should come to bury him, they might say: “Thou hast died nobly.”
But that he should be thus unexpectedly and fearfully swallowed up
by the flood, their nerves were ill prepared for the shock. He was
gone, and with his disappearance disappeared all hope. But what was
their surprise, while, with vacant stare and every feeling astounded,
their feet fixed immoveably 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 waters, and seemed to be floating back to their
embrace. “Well done! bravo!” they cried, rending the pent up region
with their gratulations, and clapping their hands and 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 towards 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
comrades stood still, and gazed upon the vacant waters, awaiting in
breathless anxiety the emergence 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. Nevertheless, 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 accomplish 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 wheeling 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 merciless
and insatiate appetite. Yet he did emerge, and bade farewell to his
comrades, and they bade farewell to him: “God bless you!” said he.
“God have mercy on you!” said they, in broken accents. “God have mercy
on me!” he cried--and again he disappeared in the whirl of the waters.

The story is too painful. How much more so--how indescribably
agonizing, even to the soldier inured to the sight of death, to have
witnessed 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 sufferer! 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 horrible by the experimental knowledge
of what it is--who can conceive of it! The Norwegian maelstrom is
awful to think of. But the ship, 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 say: “O God,
forbid 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 him back,
as if in vengeance, 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 I am!

Did he rise again?--Aye, he did. And if the story may be believed, the
raft and the man continued this perpetual round, until the intelligence
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 for 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.[3]




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 the Author proposed
to make his excursion into the North-West Territory. This lake lies
between the British province of Upper Canada on the north, and the
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 burthen, 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 fierce encounter.
The keel of a ship of war, said at the time to be the largest in the
world, was laid at Sacket’s Harbour, in the state of New 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 running in a south-westerly course two hundred
and fifty miles, in breadth seventy miles; having the 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 been
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, perhaps, with modesty,
assert supremacy on her own fresh-water seas. 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
dignified.

The next in the ascending chain is Lake St. Clair, thirty miles in
diameter, lying about 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 northern 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 present a rare vision to him who shall
ever have the privilege of sailing over them in a baloon.

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 off 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 _Mackinaw_, as the
vulgar do), towards the south west about three hundred and fifty miles,
its greatest and central breadth one hundred and fifty.[4]

But the Queen of fresh-water seas, all the world over, is Lake
Superior, most fitly named for its magnificent dimensions and relative
importance. Its length, from east to west, is seven hundred miles, and
its greatest breadth, perhaps, 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
margin studded, not unlike the northern shore of 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 navigation, 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 has 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 remote 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 devious 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, 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 far off in the north-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 portion, 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 understand, as much as may be convenient, the relations
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
whole of 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 connecting channels, or straits, called rivers,
from the outlet of Lake Ontario, nearly to the head of Lake Superior,
appertain to the British possessions of North America, and lie within
the extensive province of Upper Canada. 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 Governments, 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 regulations, not unlike those
which govern the high seas; but more easily arranged and executed, as
only two nations are concerned in their maintenance. The trace of this
jurisdiction boundary is of course exceedingly devious.




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 between
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 commercial
enterprise. Besides all the sailing craft 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 expected, 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
observations, 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
regions 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 those 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.

As a Commission from the government of the United States had been
ordered to the North West Territory, for August, 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 existing
among themselves, in their relations to each other, and also some
misunderstandings between sundry of their tribes and the general
Government, the Author having leisure, and being a little curious to
know more of this race, than he had ever yet seen, conceived, that
this extraordinary 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 insulated 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 Indian of North
America, in such circumstances, is quite another being from the Indian
in his wild and untutored condition; and as the advocates for the
resolving of society into its original elements, would say:--he is
there in his unsophisticated nature.

No one can pretend to understand the character of the aboriginal
tenants of America, who has seen them only as _vitiated_ by contact
with Europeans. I say _vitiated_. For, if they are not made better by
proper protection and cultivation, 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 discovery 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,
unprotected--and in their own estimation humbled and degraded, their
spirit broken within them,--have sunk down discouraged, and abandoned
themselves 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 vitiate his habits, or subdue his
self-importance,--who still prowls the forest in the pride of his
independence,--who looks upon all nations and tribes, but his own,
as unworthy of the contemptuous glance of his eye,--whose dreams of
importance become to him a constant reality, and actually have the same
influence in the formation 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.




CHAPTER V.

THE ROMANCE OF EXPECTATION, &c.


That the author indulged many romantic expectations, in the excursion
that was before him, was not only natural, but warranted. He could
not reasonably be disappointed, so long as imagination did not become
absolutely wild and ungovernable, and fly away from earth--or “call for
spirits from the vasty deep”--or fancy things, of which heaven or earth
affords 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 through nature’s
works to nature’s God.” Sermons 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
Him 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 such
sentiments, can never sympathise with the best feelings, and happiest
condition of man. The universe, in all its parts, suggests them;
and heaven itself, we have reason 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 vulgar, that there is any place, or any human being, or any thing
with which mortals may have to do, beyond it. Besides, the way is
long--the seas dangerous and ever liable to sudden and disastrous
storms--the shores uninhabited, or tenanted 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 burning 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 refused 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 altogether efface his first
impressions. The poetry of his feelings often overpowers his judgment,
and he not only anticipates much from the sight of a savage in his
native regions and costume; but he involuntarily shrinks from the
peculiar, rigid, and stern aspect of his countenance; shudders at the
thought of what may possibly be working in his soul; and calculates a
thousand imaginable results of an interview, which perchance 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 imperturbable countenance; who never betrays his
emotions, however deep and strong they are;--who can be indifferent 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 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-thirstiness, 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 territories,
covered as they generally are with unbroken 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 presents the aspects of nature, in all her
chasteness, untouched, 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 to ecstacy in contemplation of the novel exhibition,
shrinks back within himself involuntarily, as if in fear of some sudden
retribution from above, for the daring violation of this sacred 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 announcement, 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 uncovered 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 surface;--and soon finds himself
laid in the docks of a busy and flourishing port, presenting handsome
streets and handsome steeples, itself the ancient seat of Indian war
and Indian romance, identified and connected with a history like
romance.




CHAPTER VI.

HISTORY OF DETROIT, &c.


Detroit has long been regarded as the limit of civilization 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 extension 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 population, descendants of the first European traders
among the Indians, in that quarter; and extending from Lake Erie to
Lake St. Clair, increasing 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
diversified,” 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 affecting, as they occurred, its progress
and prosperity. Five times its flag has changed--three different
sovereignties have claimed its allegiance, and since it has been held
by the United States, its government 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 settlement of Detroit by nearly fifty years; that
as early as 1673 they had descended the Mississippi, as far as the
Arkanses; and that in 1679 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 and vast conception formed and
matured, of establishing a cordon of posts from Quebec, by way 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 done in later days.

What child, whose vernacular tongue is English, has not listened to
Indian story with an intensity of interest, which he can never cease
to cherish; and with expectation of something new and newer still,
from the wildness and fierceness of savage enterprise? Where is the
man, however grave with philosophy and bowed with the weight of years,
however accustomed to things prodigious, whose ear will not bend to
the promise 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 campaigns. But he who
follows the track of the savage, thirsting for blood, expects some new
development of stratagem and cruelty, at every turn.

Like _Tecumseh_, whose name signifies _a tiger crouching for his prey_,
a man great in council and in war; and who bore the commission of chief
of the Indian forces, in the British army in the late war;--like
him, the _Ottawa_ chieftain, of the middle of the last century, gave
demonstration of a spirit, which in other circumstances, might have
left him a name, not inferior to Alexander, or Cesar, or Napoleon. It
is sufficient to say, that in 1763, a time of profound peace, _Pontiac_
had attained such influence and supremacy over all the Indian tribes,
spread over those extensive regions, as to have united them in a grand
confederacy for the instantaneous extinction of all the European posts
along a thousand miles of frontier; and that he actually succeeded, so
far as to cut off, almost simultaneously, _nine_ out of _twelve_ of
these military establishments. The surprise of Michillimackinack, one
of these stations, is narrated in the following manner, by 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 procure it. Nearly all the garrison were present as
spectators, and those on duty were alike unprepared, as unsuspicious.
Suddenly 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 shedding 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 concerted signal from their chieftain,
they were to rise and massacre the garrison. But in consequence of the
advice from the woman, the garrison 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 had gained, and after committing numberless
and untold cruelties, (though he was not without his fits of
generosity, and of what are called the noble traits of Indian
character),--implacable in his hatred 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 account is abridged, “is still
held in reverence among his countrymen. And whatever 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
metropolis of a wide and interesting territory--a territory 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
exposure and painful vicissitudes:--“Henceforth I will sit in peace,
and grow and flourish under the wing of this Confederate Republic.”
And this place, but a little while ago so distant, is now brought
within four days of the city of New York--the track pursued 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 already 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 character of these basins of water, and in the multitude of them,
which imparts a charm to this region, altogether unrivalled. They
are the sources of the rivers and smaller streams, which flow into
either lake--themselves and their outlets pure as crystal. How many
gentlemen of large estates, and noblemen of Europe, have undertaken to
create artificial lakes, and fill them with fish--which after all their
pains are doomed to the constant deposits of filth and collections of
miasmata; and 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 motions
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 accustomed only to turbid
lakes and turbid rivers.




CHAPTER VII.

REMARKABLE 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 sentence of death, from
the proper tribunal, for the murder of his wife, under circumstances,
aggravated by brutality and savageness, too painful for recital; and
in the contemplation of which humanity 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 son and two daughters, of adult
years, testified abundantly to the natural amiableness and affectionate
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 judgment, and was conducted to
the bar to receive the sentence of the law, I observed in him a noble
human form, erect, manly, and dignified; of large but well proportioned
stature; bearing a face and head not less expressive, than the most
perfect _beau ideal_ of the Roman; with a countenance 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 intemperance; and now, alas! allied
to murder of the most diabolical cast. Rarely is seen among the sons of
men a more commanding human form, or a countenance more fitly set to
intelligence and virtue--made, all would say, to love and be honoured.
But now what change, by the debasements of brutal appetite, and the
unprovoked indulgence and instigation of a fatal passion! By what a
fearful career of vice and crime, had he come to this! “What a piece of
work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form
and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel!
in apprehension, how 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 inmost soul heaved with anguish! he bore the marks of contrition.
As a man, and such a man--if we could forget his crime--he was to be
respected; as being in a condition of suffering, he was to be pitied;
and as seeming the image of repentance, 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
energies to support his manly frame, while trembling under the 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
sobbed 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 fellow-being arraigned at
their bar, charged and convicted of a most atrocious--and in its
circumstances, an unparalleled crime, and his doom suspended at that
moment on their lips. Their 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 convulsed, 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 appropriate, eloquent, and impressive address
was made by the court to the prisoner, setting forth the fact and
nature of the crime, of which he stood convicted; appealing to his own
knowledge for the fairness of his trial; and to his own consciousness
of the justice of his doom; commending him 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 subdued
emphasis and touching pathos, which became 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 _was_
Othello!” And only when intoxicated with strong drink did this terrible
passion gain its dominion over him. In the moments of his sobriety, he
loved and confided, and could say in company of his wife,

    “My soul hath her content so absolute,
    That not another comfort like to thee,
    Succeeds in unknown fate.”

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 passions. If demoniacs were now-a-days about, the name of that
man, in such predicament and mood, were worthy to be written, as prince
of the host. But in prison, and before the tribunal of justice, this
wretched being, once kind in nature, and made a fiend by the abuse of
his nature, stood _dispossessed_, the guilty and conscious murderer of
her, whom he espoused in her youth and loveliness, and who was ever
worthy of his love;--and whom he took to his bosom, and promised, by
the light and love of heaven, to be her husband and protector.

He was executed on the 24th of September.




CHAPTER VIII.

EMBARKATION FROM DETROIT, &c.


On the 4th of August the steam-packet, _Sheldon Thomson_, left Detroit
for the Upper Lakes, her ultimate destination being Green Bay, with
the United States’ Commissioners, bound on the errand heretofore
alluded 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 literature; some of business; some families returning, or
emigrating to those new and remote settlements;--with pigs, poultry,
&c. &c. As near as we recollect, the number of souls on board,
including troops, commissioners and suite, ladies and gentlemen, and
the crew--was not far from _two hundred and fifty_.

The rarity of this expedition gave it some importance. The character
of the company, but especially the objects of the mission from
Government to the Indians of the North-West, magnified the interest
not inconsiderably. It is true there is some sailing 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 times in a season; as encouragements offer.
But Detroit is reckoned the common limit of the crowd, who flock to the
west in the summer; and a trip beyond is quite notable, and esteemed
a great treat with the curious, and with all who have 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 important to the world. If Captain Symmes 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 regions, and therefore unattainable to man.
This important discovery was made by the above-named Captain Symmes,
of Ohio, United States.

It is not pretended, that the particular expedition, which makes the
subject 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 newspaper puffing, that the author
was drawn into 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, running 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 made upon the earth. Indeed the scene
and the occasion were quite inspiriting; and the objects in view wore
the aspect of many powerful and romantic attractions. The beautiful
city of Detroit began to recede, while the packet, borne along between
the Canadian shore and Hog 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. Clair.

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
consequence of the depression of all its shores, and there being
no hills in the immediate 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 continually 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 generally shallow, except in the
channel; and that channel is perpetually changing by the effect of
storms, and requires 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, sufficient for all the purposes of navigation, though it is
somewhat devious.

The passage over Lake St. Clair, in a day of such unrivalled physical
glories, in such a company, 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 proper character inconceivable, except
by actual inspection; such a passage might well make an apology for the
indulgence of some trifling ingredients of poetry and romance. Every
heart seemed light and buoyant, as the clouds floating in the sky, and
its affections active, as the elements by which the bark, which made
their home, was wafted along;--and all prospects bright and cheering,
as the sun, which shone upon the scene. The climate and aspects of the
heavens seemed changed. The clouds, such, as a clear atmosphere and
its brisk currents fold together in their fleecy robes, and toss along
in sublime and majestic sport;--the shores and islets successively
receding in one direction, and coming into view from another;--a new
and fine steamer, 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 picturesque, 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, between the Indians themselves, and if needs be,
between the querulous parties of Canadians and Americans, strolling
in those regions;--a Commission from Government, on their way to
settle disputes 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 vicar
general from the pope of Rome, with plenipotentiary powers of remission
and retention in things spiritual, and of supervising the interests
of the Catholic church; 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 commenced, 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 about _fifty_ mouths into the lake
of the same name. The principal navigable channels are _five_. The
extended marshes, challenging 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 peculiar kind;--these several and combined
features, changing their forms continually, 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 Chien_, on the Mississippi;
and from the last point along the banks of that mighty river, to the
Gulf of Mexico--to look upon 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 of a thicket
upon the bank, and running and jumping with frantic, or joyous signs
and exclamations 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, harnessed under water;--we a wonder to them and
they a very piece of romance to us;--who, fresh from the centre of
civilization, and unaccustomed to these scenes, would not gaze with
interest, and imagine himself dreaming?--




CHAPTER 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 occupied 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 _tow_
could not classically be called an _obsta_-cle, it was at least a grave
Saxon _hold back_. But nevertheless, as the master of the steamer was
sure of _our_ 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 was a kindness--it being understood, that vessels,
upward bound, are often detained in this current, not only days, but
weeks, before a south wind springs up, sufficiently strong to bear them
into Lake Huron.

Fort Gratiot has the honour of its name from its original projector,
Colonel Gratiot, now chief engineer of the United States at Washington.
The fort has a beautiful and commanding position, immediately 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 _hold 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 nothing, until, by
raising the steam, more perhaps, than what was prudent, she finally
carried her companion into the sea above, and then 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, Michigan, and Superior,
are disemboguing through so narrow a channel, with a determination not
to be resisted.

Those of the passengers, who were disposed, had time at Gratiot to go
on shore, and view the fort. At that time it was surrounded only 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 musket 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 civilities 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 find the following:--

August 6:--Still in Lake Huron, and borne onward with great rapidity
by wind and steam,--the latter of which we always have at command,
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 there 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, uninhabited 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 sight. To such a
scene in good weather, as we have had, there is but one page. But those
of us, who are strangers here, felt that we were entering a region
remote from civilization, 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
_Spirit_-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_--and then the Drummond Isle--on the last of
which and near the straits, as we approached, 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 uninhabited region, was a melancholy
spectacle--and resting, as it does, in such a beautiful spot! It really
looked covetable--like a little paradise, peeping out upon the sea,
by the point of land, which defends the harbour, skirted by a lovely
forest-scene, and spreading its fair bosom to the heavens, seems to
invite those, who may be tired of the world, to its enchanting retreat.
I cannot imagine, how it should be left unoccupied; and I can hardly
yet persuade 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 must 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 off on the bosom of the lake;--but the melancholy effect upon my
own feelings, when 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 _lusus naturæ_ of all the regions we have passed, within a
few hours, from that point, till we came to anchor this evening--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 direction; accompanied with the thought, that nowhere among
them all rests the habitation of civilized man, or is often found the
track of the savage;--these all made fancy more vivid, romance more
romantic, and the very wildness of nature more wild. We also passed
the ruins of another fort, on the island of St. Joseph, a valuable and
beautiful territory, twenty miles by ten, lifting up a mountain in its
centre, and said to embosom a mine of silver, known only to an Indian,
whose guardian spirit will not permit either himself, or others, to
reap the advantages of the disclosure. This island, formerly belonging
to the United States, has, by the recent settlement of the boundary
line, fallen to the British Government, in exchange, we may suppose,
for Drummond’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 which the northern parts of
Huron are sprinkled, of such various dimensions, that some of the
smallest, crowned with trees and shrubbery, have reminded me 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 by eight Indians, dressed in a singularly gaudy,
yet uniform costume;--who bore down upon us with apparent intent of
speaking. But _our_ canoe, not responding with 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
great 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 unexpected and novel exhibition threw us all into an
ecstacy of admiration. The singular costume of the Indians, with many
and various coloured feathers, bending and waving on their heads; the
exquisite beauty of their canoe; their paddles of the most glaring red,
so far as they are immersed; the perfect time and admirable exactitude
of their movements, 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 had ever indulged of the Indian’s skill and dexterity in
this exercise.

I would here remark, that this 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 distance of an hundred
miles, the half of which is over the open sea of Huron. This mode of
travelling in the North-West, resorted to by necessity, 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 been picturesque and interesting,
especially when allied to its associations, beyond my powers to
describe. The scenery in itself stands unrivalled, 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
among them;--that the trees and shrubbery 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 overhanging
wood, opened and invited us to enter, as the only way of egress. And
then again a half-dozen channels offer themselves, each perhaps equally
attractive, and confounding choice. And their serpentine course, and
the abruptness of their angles, after once the right one is selected,
by dodging the islands and shooting across the bays;--the alternate
expansions and contractions, forming 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 presents 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 shifting scene. On turning one of those sharp
angles, about twenty miles above the point, where 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. And they are the only habitations 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 _wall_ of the lodge, is a sort of mat, or
woven texture of the wild rice stalk, found growing in shallow waters;
and which, after being shaken of its fruits 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 household 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 of a few families, with one canoe, or two, for
each household, 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 darting
off for some new retreat. The encampment is again established, with
the same dispatch, 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.

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 government flag. On the Canadian frontier they are not
unfrequently 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 _feu de joie_ 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 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 interpreter on board our
vessel, ascertaining them to be of the Chippewa tribe, and possessing
ourselves 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 condition of holding all things
_common_. The amusement, which this strife occasioned, turned out to
the no small profit of the Indians. For a shower 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, however, 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 performing 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 number of times; till, I am sorry to say, they had got enough,
in their capacious vessel, to make the whole camp drunk--and which
will probably occasion a famous _pow-wow_, 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 unapprised 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 sensations. To be thus saluted, by such
uncertain beings, having nothing to defend us, was not altogether
welcome. Even if their rifles had nothing in them more solid, the very
wadding might have come in our faces. No one, however, was killed;
and it proved to be a mere _feu de joie_, to express how glad they
were to see us. Ours is only the third Steam-packet, that has ever
penetrated this region; and this particular 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
opportunity 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 valuable. While we
were engaged in working off the vessel, which occupied an 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
destination:--_the Saut de St. Marie_.




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 themselves 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 to preside
over Niagara’s thundering Cataract, the imagination of a Catholic
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 something 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. Marie_, whose father was a Scotchman, or Scotch-Irish, and her
mother an 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. 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 appearance 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 be read without
the possibility 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 betraying 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 developement--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 and disappeared, as before
described; the whole scene gave new being to 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 romantic and 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
attention 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 condition of the American Aborigines on
each other for comfort and happiness, and as they religiously suppose,
on the high Providence above, whom they call the Great Spirit, for the
supply of their necessities--(for themselves are always improvident
and frequently in want)--has imparted to their language, or manner
of speaking, an indescribable softness and tenderness. It is a sweet
and perfect melody. As they never think, or talk abstrusely, nor
task their minds with concatenations 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
conversation, is altogether peculiar--and that character is always of
an affectionate, tender, and dependent 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
employ in their own tongue. Neither are they themselves aware of the
fact. I once called the attention of a circle of Indian chiefs to this
circumstance, 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 discovery. 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--_Eh?_
(Is it so?)--partly nasal, and partly ringing so mellifluously
in the chambers of the mouth, by an ascending and circumflex
intonation, falling at last into a sweet and expiring 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 heard it with attention,
is never to forget it. It is altogether of a moral character. It
expresses politeness, in all its scope; a thorough reciprocation 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 confirmed in these
peculiar attributes of Indian languages, 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 intonations and inflexions of their speech, 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 personæ_. The
canoes, which came along side of the steamer, while lying on sand bars
and at anchor, before her arrival at the _Saut_, were numerous;--and
this young lady was the interpreter, and the only 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 _they_, manifesting 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
seemed 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 communications 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 this
expression is not unlike the second to an air in a piece of music:--it
is an exquisite and harmonious accompaniment. It sets and keeps the
affections of all the parties in tune.




CHAPTER XI.

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


The next day was occupied in the disembarcation of a second[5]
detachment of the troops, at the garrison of the Saut, and in 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 metropolis of a
civilized community, with a pure Indian woman, acting as mistress of
ceremonies, who did not venture to speak a word of the vernacular
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
in that remote region--was an interesting occasion, 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 granite 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 passengers to be left,
shipwrecked, in such a wild region.

It was on the passage from the _Saut_ 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
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 _thirty-two 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 boundary line of their
contiguous jurisdictions.[6] 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 St. Mary’s river forms three channels a little below the falls,
and consequently two 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, ran up and cast a _coup d’œil_ upon the
face of those interesting waters. They saw the Queen of Lakes, which,
indeed, was worth the effort. 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 crescent harbour, directly under the guns of the fort.

If Quebec is the Gibraltar of North America, Mackinaw is only second
in its physical character, 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 Indians 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--Michillimackinack--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 the 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 immediately 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, according 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 immersed three feet. The fish may be seen,
playing 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 the exact form of the
loaf, after 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 perpendicular 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 celestial regions; and it is even possible for him to _get
up_;--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 precipitated and dashed in pieces at the
bottom. These two objects are interesting and magnificent specimens of
nature’s masonry.

From Mackinaw to the mouth of Fox river, in the North-West Territory,
the place of destination--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.




CHAPTER XII.

THE INDIAN TRIBES, THEIR POLITICAL RELATIONS, &c.


Before we introduce the particular business, intrusted to the
Commission, sent to Green Bay, in 1830; and in whose company I happened
to be, in their voyage through the Lakes; it will be quite necessary
to the reader’s clear understanding of the general and future current
of our story--that I should summon his attention to a few remarks on
the present condition and political relations of the Indian Tribes,
comprehended 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 the Indians within the territories of
the United States; but of those also, who fall under the jurisdiction
of the government of Great 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 negotiating 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 uniformly 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 money is put to their disposal, it would ever be
prejudicial to their moral, and thus to their political interests.
And for this assumption there might be some apology, 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 they
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 lands belonging to the smaller tribes
of the northern and eastern States, and consequently their political
existence and relations, have long since fallen under the control of
the State governments, within whose limits they are found. It had
also happened, before the rights of Indians had been so thoroughly
discussed, that the _pre-emption right_ of the individual States 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 afford
to be at any expense, that may be necessary. And the actual expense,
having been hitherto successful, still multiplies the value of the
investments to an indefinite amount. I cannot venture to specify the
amount of increase in the value of this stock, having no certain
data, only that it has been immense on the original fund; which, in
the first instance, was a loan to the State, the history of which,
in its successive changes, I am not able to trace. The Indian lands,
thus subjected to the speculations of land-jobbers, have risen in
value to an amount that cannot be told, by the increase of the white
population with which they are surrounded. This peculiar condition
of Indian rights is more particularly applicable to the State of New
York, although it is virtually the same thing, when the right of
pre-emption is in the government, only that the government, having a
higher responsibility, 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
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 _legal_ compulsion are
concerned, this may be true; but they are _morally_ compelled; the
causes brought to act upon them to induce this decision, are in fact
irresistible.

As to the more numerous tribes of Indians, immediately connected with
the national government of the United States, and who have larger and
more momentous interests at stake, we shall by and by have occasion to
notice more particularly their relations and prospects. It may in this
place be observed generally, that the original principles asserted and
the practice pursued by those European powers, who first laid their
claims 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 consequences 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 the basis and
prescribed the modes of a new constitution of society between emigrant
Europeans and the aboriginal Americans--a state of society which 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 principles, 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 precedent and the right of
prescription, the nobler race of the red men of America, in a condition
of grievous disadvantage, and subjected them to an unrelieved doom
of the greatest injustice. 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 treatment originally instituted should continue; the relations
first formed, for reasons of State, gradually become subject to the
inexorable laws of State necessity. What 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 administration 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 even
yet treated most unjustly, and most inconsistently 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
origin and history of the wrong, and the manner in which it has passed
from generation to generation.

Some recent measures of the American government, 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 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 principles
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 for a
practical course of injury, which, 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.[7] 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 administration 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 myself sustained by the decisions of that venerable tribunal.
What would otherwise be to the dishonour 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;
it is at least and practically a common cause between the people of
Great Britain and the United States, as each of these 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 principles, from which neither of these two nations can
in sobriety and justice depart; and while I shall freely expose any
violation of these principles, 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 least as much a subject of national triumph,
as the heretofore injurious treatment done to the Indians, is a subject
of regret--and but for this atonement, an occasion of shame, nay, in
any case, a shame.

It happens, as before suggested, that Great Britain is involved in
a like responsibility, in regard to American Aborigines, as the
government of the United States. Not, 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 unfortunate and depressed classes of the human
race: the Africans and American Indians. The condition of the former
class, and the duties which they may rightfully claim from these two
Governments, I do not at present undertake to discuss.

It is sufficient for my present purpose, and perhaps 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 jurisdiction of the United States, is
not material. I would take liberty here to mention another thing,
not because I am solicitous to bring the British government into the
same condemnation;--but yet I am sufficiently informed--that the
government of the Canadas is in the habit of assuming and asserting
the right of removing the Indians, without their consent, from the
lands they have occupied from 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 brought 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
occasion for it, it is unnecessary to say, how much less the government
of the Canadas is in fault, in regard to the acknowledgment of Indian
rights, than the government of the United States;--except that, the
former has never promised, so far as I know, and then violated
promise. The rapid extension of the population of the Union, and the
old and public engagements of the government with the Indian tribes,
guaranteeing their rights, have brought those rights into public and
earnest discussion. And it must be confessed, that notwithstanding
the public registry of treaties, and notwithstanding the recent
solemn decision of the Supreme Judiciary of the nation, defining 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 disclosures 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 community 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.




CHAPTER XIII.

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


Since the world have agreed in attaching a severe and savage character
to the American Aborigines in war; and as I may yet have repeated
occasions to develop and describe somewhat of these features in
the progress of this story; it is due to that people, that some
explanations should be made, and that they should realize the benefit
of all the apology of the circumstances 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 character is tranquil and affectionate; and their
hospitality is bounded only by their slender means of affording comfort
to the stranger. Their fidelity and devotion, when once their faith
is pledged, is unrivalled--it is romantic. They are not less true 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 opportunity to
witness 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 dazzling offers are made
to him--demonstrates most incontrovertibly, 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 offices 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 make man happy. They will fly from 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 offers--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 attachments. It is not the roughnesses of life,
that have thus won and chained under these unyielding 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 home.

How, then, shall we account for the cruelties of the American
Aborigines, as attributed to them in the records of their warfare?--How
can these amazing contrarieties of character be reconciled?--For myself
I do not think the task insurmountable. Nay--it is easy. In the first
place, there have been, as always occurs in such narratives, egregious
exaggerations. Imagination always invests the horrible with greater
horrors, than what 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 _barbarian_. He is an improvident,
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 surrender. And all this while his native energies lie dormant. He
delights in a lazy, indolent existence. When roused by hunger, he will
pursue the chase with wakeful vigilance and intense exertion. And when
he returns with his game, he satiates his appetite, and lies down
to sleep, not caring for the necessities of to-morrow, 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 defenceless 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 indolent savage starts
up from his long repose, convokes 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 their enemies are publicly and solemnly devoted
to death and vengeance. The pride of their nation, their wives and
little ones, their cabins, their hunting and fishing grounds, their
territories claimed by the prescriptive right of possession, the
graves and spirits of their fathers--their own lives, dear to all, and
now menaced by impending war;--every fact and circumstance, that is
precious in present possession, or dear to hope;--all, that belongs to
life, and all that is mysterious and awful in religion--are invoked,
and brought in with all the power of their wild poetry and savage
rhetoric, to shake off the lethargies of peace, and kindle the passions
for war. The softer feelings are quenched, and the 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 deep and hoarse murmur of the solemn chaunt
of the war-song, raised by an awful choir of ventriloquists--and every
now and then suddenly broken by the sharp and piercing explosion of
the fiendly war-whoop;--all dancing and jumping, in utmost disorder,
around the fire, naked, painted, and feathered, with tomahawk in hand,
each of hideous aspect, and together making a hideous group;--these
all, and numerous other characteristic concomitants of the scene,
constitute the challenge, which is made upon the assembled warriors, to
take up the gauntlet, and thus pledge themselves to the destruction of
their enemies. Nothing can exceed the effect of these solemnities on
the passions of the Indian. His former tranquil spirit is thoroughly
exorcised, and he is suddenly transformed into a fanatic and a madman.
Anticipating well the doom, that awaits him, if he falls into the
hand of his enemies, he works up all his passions to a fearlessness
of death, and to a contempt of every imaginable cruelty. He turns his
back, and steels his heart to all domestic endearments. He fasts--he
lacerates his own flesh, and accustoms himself to the patient and
unflinching endurance of pain and agony, by the inflictions of his own
hand. And when the Indian is thus prepared for war, no torment, however
ingeniously devised, however cruelly inflicted, can cause a single
muscle of his frame to quiver. All his 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 becomes a war-stricken
and blood-thirsty maniac, from the moment of his enlistment, till he
falls 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 ordinary 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
intoxication--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 condition--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 magnanimous onset and
the softer clemency of a conqueror, among civilized nations, are to
wash away the crime, by which, in his march to the attainment of his
laurels, he has desolated human happiness and life on the largest
scale;--while the savage blow, which affords no time to anticipate
calamity, and leaves no widow or fatherless child to weep a long 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 _provoked_ 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 necessity. And
under the same artificial and unnatural excitement, and with the same
determination, 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 find a reason for it, in the habits and circumstances of these
wild children of nature--a reason, which, if it does 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 American Aborigines have scarcely
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 reverenced him; and they were
never easily provoked to enter into strife. That the rapid growth
and gradual encroachments of the European 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 subsistence 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 wonder,--that the Indian
was provoked? that he began to assert his rights, and meditate their
recovery? The whole history of Indian warfare in America proves, that
not only in their ignorance, but in nature, and in reason, it was to be
expected. And no less was it to be expected, that they would conduct
their wars in their own way. They have done many cruelties, and those
cruelties have been made an apology for taking possession of their
inheritance. After all that has been said of their savage nature,
they are uniformly found a meek, and patient, and long-suffering
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 character 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 fathers, all those tribes, which have been more
or less encircled and hemmed 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 consistent 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 Mississippi;--and many
nations of this description, scattered over the vast regions between
the Mississippi and the Pacific Ocean. But all the tribes within the
boundaries of the organized 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 improvement in the useful arts
of life, have been abundantly rewarded--as we shall have occasion to
notice.




CHAPTER XIV.

GRADUAL EXTINCTION OF THE INDIAN TRIBES IN THE EASTERN STATES, &c.


We have already recognised the fact--that the aboriginal tribes of
North America have been compelled to retire before the encroachments
of the European occupants of their ancient territories. The district
of New England, comprehending 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? 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, once the terror and scourge of the colonists
under their politic and famed chieftains, Sassacus and Philip,[8] 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
other remnants, scattered here and there, but scarcely known.--In all
now remaining in New England, there are only--2,573! Alas! they have
had their day--they had their importance--they were a proud race,
and believed themselves the best. But where are they 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 of these ancient tribes: a few at Montauk
Point, on the east end of Long Island;--some considerable 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;--in all throughout the
State:--5,184! As I shall have occasion to notice the numerous tribes
in other States, and in the Western Territories, in another place, I
purposely overlook them 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 “_Reservations_” of territory, under an assumed guardianship
of the commonwealth. These “Reservations” consist of certain 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 trespass--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-emption right_ of their territories,
under a general supervision of the State, and in consideration of which
the State has realized a certain _bonus_, has fallen into the hands
of corporate companies--as before recognised--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 companies, no pains
have been spared to multiply the causes, and hasten the occasions of
their removal. Inconveniences, restrictions, and annoyances, naturally
resulting from their insulated condition, and aggravated by the
devices of these interested corporations, have been made to bear upon
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 congenial to their tempers and habits.
The attachments of the aboriginal Americans to the graves of their
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 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
amalgamate 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 offend;--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 men
of the New York Indians--whose removal at that time both policy 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 the individual States; but it is in the exclusive occupancy
of Indian tribes, and destined in the plan of the national government
for that purpose. Besides, 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 yourselves and your children
such possessions, as your brethren there may agree to award for your
inheritance. You will never again be disturbed. 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 comfort. Go yonder, and
prosper. The Government wish you to go there. As you 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 father,
the president, knows, that you will help him 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
those nations, along with your own progressive improvement, under the
fostering hand of the President, to civilization and happiness.”[9]

The Reverend Doctor was sincere in his advice--he was honest--he gave
it out of the benevolence and fulness of his kind heart. He 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 representations 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 States, ordered the
proper authorities to execute letters of approbation, and to afford 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 should succeed in negotiating with the
native tribes, to supervise and facilitate the arrangements, so that
nothing on the part of Government should be wanting in the attainment
of their object.

It is proper here to observe, that the government of the United States
have ever been accustomed 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 between itself
and other civilized powers, it claims a supervision in all negotiations
of territory between the 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 are alike applicable to
the claims of the general Government, in relation to Indian territories
_without_ 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-West Territory, and succeeded to their satisfaction in
negotiating with the native tribes, under the full authority and
approbation of the President of the United States--accompanied by
an agent of government to supervise the transactions. The New York
tribes entered into solemn treaties with the tribes of the North-West,
purchased of them specific territories for specific and valuable
considerations; and laid the foundation, 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 their good
example might have a happy influence on the native and more untutored
Indians. There were also political reasons for getting them out of the
State of New York--reasons, operating between the State and national
Governments--and reasons, such as the pre-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 arrangements 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 defended against the incursions of
the white man, and under all the improvements of civilization and
the advantages of Christianity, opened before 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 States, and to lend all convenient aid in promoting
their general improvement. It was indeed an interesting and a hopeful
vision. The day of their redemption seemed nigh at hand. A wide and
beautiful 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 condition had been accustomed;--promising 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 watch with parental tenderness over all their interests,
political and social, and to raise them as high in character and in
happiness, 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 held out to the chiefs and tribes
of the New York Indians, a little 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. They had already 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 exemption from
the incursions of white men was unbroken;--and all their prospects
were bright, as the sun which made their corn to grow, and refreshing
as the showers which softened the rich soil, in which it was planted.
The aged chief, smiling out of his care-worn and anxious countenance,
blessed his tribe for their goodly inheritance, and touched the harp of
joyous prophecy over the hopeful future, and dying, said--“Now is my
soul satisfied.” The father told his children--“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.

_But_--where is the faith, that can bind the selfishness, or restrain
the reckless and unprincipled enterprise of man? A Government may give
their pledges in all honesty, and their own citizens may undermine the
sacred foundations, and violently dissolve the ties--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 emigrants 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 Congress, 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 proposed, 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 admission, as a separate and
independent member of the Federal Union;--and is destined doubtless
soon to make one of the most flourishing of the United States.

The _North-West Territory_, consecrated, as already recognised, to be
the home of the Indian, the sanctuary of his rights, and the place of
experiment for Indian society and Indian empire, is but one step beyond
the territory of Michigan. 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 this desirable and
beautiful region against the enterprise of our citizens? Is this wide
and rich territory, which in twenty years might make one of the first
of these Confederate Republics, to be doomed to the possession of
those indolent savages, who will never use it for the proper purposes
of human society? 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 besides, there is no
difficulty in managing these Indians. They are a simple and credulous
people. We can sow dissensions among them. We can make the wild tribes
quarrel with their adopted neighbours; and bring them all together
before their great father--(as they call him)--the President--and make
at least one party say: ‘We 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, committed in their
engagements, which may be impeached, 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 transactions will not
bear investigation. We can use this, first, to awaken jealousy and
irreconcileable feeling in the one party;--and next, to disturb and
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 _quit 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
prospects 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 Independent 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 conspicuous individuals, who have had a large share in
it. Heaven forefend, that the whole community of the United States
should be held answerable for this! The entire plan, comprehended in
the supposititious argument of the last paragraph, has been actually
executed;--that is, so far as time and circumstance would allow. And
the rest may easily be anticipated. The New York Indians and the
native tribes have been brought to quarrel with each other, through
the influence of persons interested in the removal of both;--their
covenants have been impeached, and set aside, as unworthy of respect;
the pending controversy has been embarrassed in every possible
form;--it has gone up to the city of Washington, again and again, and
received judgments from _ex parte_ 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 decisions;--Commissions of investigation, and clothed
with authority to institute new and final arrangements, have been sent
upon the ground, which have disregarded and trampled upon the rights
of the Indians,--and their reports and recommendations have been
respected. And now another president, and a new administration have
come to power, whose avowed policy is to remove _all_ the Indian tribes
west of the Mississippi; and who are using all possible endeavours
to accomplish it. And it was under this administration, that the
Commissioners from the general Government, 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 lands. I do not mean by this to impeach
the Commissioners _personally_, 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 understood, 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 eventfulness of the doings of this
Commission, in themselves considered, that I have chosen to notice
the scene of their labours;--but inasmuch as it presents a very fit
occasion for a general developement of this species of injustice done
to the American Aborigines, and is equally good for that purpose, as
any other;--and inasmuch as it offers a rare exhibition of Indian
character, cultivated and uncultivated, and discloses their habits,
manners, sympathies, and hopes, in ways and under modifications,
uncommonly lively and picturesque;--and more especially because I
happened to be an eye-witness of the events;--I have selected it, as
worthy of minute and circumstantial detail.[10]

I quote this article merely to show, that a plan like Dr. Morse’s had,
at so early a period, entered into the views of the Government.

“Should the expectation raised,” says the Doctor, “in regard to this
project be realized in a good degree, I should think this the place
(the North-West Territory) for the ultimate establishment of the Indian
College, which, in time, might be provided with Indian officers and
instructors, as well as students, and have their own trustees to manage
its concerns. And if our brethren in Canada shall be disposed to unite
with us in this grand and desirable object, and make the institution
common for the benefit of the Indians on both sides of the line, which
separates us, as one College might be sufficient for both--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.[12]

“Should it be thought expedient, and be found practicable, to collect
the remnants of tribes now scattered and languishing and wasting away
among our white population, and to colonize them for the purpose
of preserving them from extinction, and of educating them to the
best advantage, and with the greater economy--some portions of this
territory (the North-West) will, I think, unquestionably be found
better suited to these objects, than any other in our country--_and as
such I deliberately recommend them 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.) We understand the general Government are
pleased, and have confirmed the title. Means will now be used to obtain
a law of Congress to exclude _spirituous liquors and white heathen_
from Green Bay.”




CHAP. 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 the name designates the settlement
at the mouth of Fox River, at the head of the large bay, bearing
this name, and connected with Lake Michigan. It is also generally
understood, as comprehending an indefinite amount of territory 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 the names of _Michigan_ and the
_North-West_, and which for many years have been comprehended 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 it has been foreseen and resolved,
that each of them will make a conspicuous and important member of the
General Union, they have respectively claimed and realized their share
of influence at the City of Washington. In the management of those
territories, it has been a matter of necessity, in the first place,
that the Government should act upon the representations of their
commissioned agents in that quarter;--and next, those agents have been
compelled to yield to the influence of the interested individuals,
who have been tempted to lay the foundations of their future wealth
and importance in those distant regions. Notwithstanding, that
President Monroe had pledged Green Bay, as the home and sanctuary of
the Indians, which was not only the key of the North-West Territory,
but comprehended 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 Washington, should understand the merits of these Indian claims;
especially if they did not take the trouble to look into the file of
public documents, which recorded and sealed them. As every government
has its numerous ramifications and distant props of dependency, they
might be more interested in gratifying 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 objects. The Indians never imagined, that there
was any thing lame, or informal, or improper in the instruments, on
which they relied, until they found themselves undermined by a train of
interested and political manœuvering. And 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-West Territory must be a _State_, and these Indians, who had
possessed themselves, as they supposed, and as all concerned supposed
at the time, in a regular and rightful course, of the key and heart of
the country, must be got out of the way.

To consummate this object, the previous steps of which had been before
arranged, the Commission of 1830 was sent to Green Bay. It is due,
however, to the members of that Commission to say:--that their conduct
on the occasion sufficiently proved, that they had never understood
the real nature of the errand, before they entered upon it;--and that
they never manifested personally, or as a court, any willingness to
do injustice to the Indians. They found, indeed, on their arrival,
that they had got an unpleasant business upon their hands--a business
involved, and complicated, 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 accordance with the plan
of an ultimate ejectment of the Indians. Nor is it to be inferred,
that the Government, _as such_, was privy to such a design. We do not
believe it was so, in moral intent. We cannot think it capable. It was
sufficiently apparent, that during the whole course of John Quincy
Adams’s administration, the Government at Washington did not understand
the case. But things in relation to this affair, 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 incapable of prosecuting it, so
as to thwart the purposes of their adversaries; or else were uninformed
of what was doing. Neither is it to be supposed, that the present
administration, notwithstanding 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 important concerns,
to occupy them. The instructions had evidently been dictated and
drawn up by a hand, which had previously had something to do with the
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 face of the instructions, calculated
to startle the moral sense of those unacquainted with the history of
the previous transactions. They even had the appearance of kindness,
and of impartiality. The Government of the United States, therefore,
may and ought to be acquitted of knowingly consenting to this injury,
even down to the time of the Commission of 1830. That they have not
had _opportunity_ since that time to know, can hardly be said--as
will appear in the sequel. We 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 they agreed to remove to Green Bay, was carefully
kept out of sight, in the correspondence between the subsequent
administrations and their agents in the North-West; and that the public
documents, attesting it, were suffered to lie undisturbed 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 1821-22, the chiefs of the New York tribes entered
into friendly alliances with the tribes of the North-West, and made
purchases of territory, as agreed upon and defined by themselves in
mutual council, for certain valuable considerations, specified in the
articles of covenant, and in due time discharged. The real value and
the propriety of the considerations promised and rendered to bind
the sale and secure the 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 probable
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 contract, was its value among Indians. According 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 the 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 stipulated and rendered by the New York Indians has
been 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 newly associated tribes to
keep away the white man;--as the letters of Government had specifically
recommended, that the contemplated negotiations should have this
object in view;--and as the New York Indians were better acquainted
with the ways of white men, by having lived among them;--it was judged
expedient, that their deeds of purchase should include a much larger
territory, than what they wanted for themselves, 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, know 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 very measure, adopted at the suggestion of Government
authority, been employed to dissolve their covenants, and annihilate
their rights. Not only has it been employed, as a presumption of
dishonesty before the world, but, in conjunction with all other
possible and false occasions, it has been assiduously applied to awaken
jealousy, dissatisfaction, and bitter animosity, in the bosoms of
those tribes, who had wisely agreed to this expedient. ‘The 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
your friends. The New York Indians are your enemies.’ And they were
persuaded; and the sequel is in a rapid progress of fulfilment. The
wild tribes of the North-West Territory will soon be thrown beyond the
Mississippi--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 reduced 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 cannot divine--except, that their prospects are
by no means enviable.

And why, it is asked, does not Government prevent this? I have already
supposed, what I believe to be the fact: that Government 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. The poor and simple cannot
find ways and means for a hearing; and they are always anticipated
by their oppressors--so that when their cause is admitted, there is
little chance of redress. And has this 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 removing all the Indians farther 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 indemnification;--but the question is
decided--that the Indians can never inherit the North-West Territory.
It is too late. It is decreed to rise and stand an independent member
of the Federal Union.




CHAPTER XVI.

BURNING OF DEERFIELD IN MASSACHUSETTS, AND MASSACRE OF ITS INHABITANTS,
&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 mankind. 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 elements 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 private; and imposes itself upon public observation, only by
the swelling of its frightful aggregate. The most remarkable incidents
of private life, and the most affecting features of private calamity,
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 the writer of romance. This is, indeed,
the grand 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
has its own annals, the common allusions of which are best understood
at home) the town of Deerfield in Massachusetts, 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 British 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 firebrand, and its fathers and mothers, and brothers
and sisters, and helpless infancy, to indiscriminate massacre, or to
painful captivity, is still fresh in the recollections of traditionary
narrative, and stands recorded on the authentic pages 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 recollection the following couplet:--

    “No rays of sun on happier vallies 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
enlistment, 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 helpless age, the cries of the tender female,
the beseechings of the mother, and the sudden terror of her wakened
infant, are music to his ear;--and all the scene, of his burning and
carnage, a provocation to his appetite for blood. The captive he leads
away he doats upon, as the future and more public victim of his dire
revenge; and if perchance the tender object of his future sacrifice
sinks under the fatigues of the way, he lifts his 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 Deerfield,
was that of the Rev. Mr. Williams, the pious and exemplary pastor
of the flock, consigned to his spiritual charge, in that frontier
settlement. His youngest child, an infant daughter, was snatched from
the cradle, and borne away a captive; and by accident falling in
charge of an Indian woman, the child became the favourite of her new
protectress--was cherished 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 Massachusetts. 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 attentions, which were in vain exhausted upon her, to induce
her to return, with her family, and take up her abode with the relics
and descendants of her father’s house, and in the bosom of civilized
society. Every possible motive and tempting offer were set before them;
but without 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 _Williams_,
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 alliances, 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, fifth, 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 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 Rev. Mr. Williams. The
translation of these boys occurred about the year 1800--perhaps a
little subsequent. Their father, an Indian chief of the tribe before
named, came with them, and stayed long enough to induct his sons into
some acquaintance and custom with their new condition, and then left
them in charge of their solicitous and benevolent relations.

It was in the winter, while the earth was covered with a deep and heavy
fleece of immaculate 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
feet 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. In the country retreat of
Long-meadow, where an Indian had rarely shown himself for generations,
and where every novelty 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 although the Indians could
not understand a word of the services, yet there was no knowing 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 olden time, the
public conscience would have been greatly disturbed at any unnecessary
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 confessed, that
they have, in some places, and in some degree, fallen off from this
excellent custom of their forefathers. The author of these pages was
for years a school-fellow with these boys, and is well acquainted with
their history; and because of the conspicuous part, which the eldest
of them, Eleazer, is destined to occupy in our story, it is thought
suitable 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 incorporation, 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, instruction in the reading and grammar of the
English language, chirography, arithmetic, geography, history, and such
other things, as are deemed important for the common business of life.
And this is always the first stage of education, with the children of
the rich as of the poor. Those, who are able, 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 abroad 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, Eleazer Williams and
his brother John. On the first few days of their appearance 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 endure the disorder, which their manners at first created.
Unused to restraint, and amazed at the orderly scene around them, they
would suddenly jump up, and cry, _Umph!_ or some other characteristic
and guttural exclamation, and then perhaps spring across the room, and
make a true Indian assault upon a child, on whom they had fixed their
eyes, to his no small affright and consternation;--or else dart out of
the house, and take to their heels in such a direction, as their whims
might incline them. Confinement 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 Roman 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 “_Umph!_” behind them, would dart out of the house, in
resentment;--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
tractableness and docility of the two. They gradually dropped their
Indian dress and manners, and adopted those of their new society. The
eldest, as he grew up, became a universal favourite, was extensively
introduced into the best society of New England;--was cherished by
every body, as a most promising 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 fit 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 exhausted 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. He 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 consequence of his having
attached himself, by temptations held out to him, to the staff of the
American army in the north. In consideration of his known abilities
and of his connexion with the Indian tribes in Canada, which were the
auxiliaries and more or less employed in the British army, his services
were deemed important, by the Americans, to counteract the hostile
influence of these tribes on the northern frontier. In the battle of
Plattsburg, himself and his brother John sustained conspicuous and
useful parts--although the engagement did not amount to much besides
skirmishing, in consequence of the decisive action on Lake Champlain,
in the face of Plattsburg, which caused the sudden retreat of the
British forces from before the town into Canada.

Peace being concluded, and the natural excitements of a campaign
subsiding in his mind, Mr. Williams’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. It was not long before he was introduced
and commended to Bishop Hobart, of New York, and received orders in the
Christian ministry from under his hand, to be employed in that capacity
among the Indian tribes. He commenced his labours in 1815, with the
_Oneidas_, at Oneida Castle, near Utica, in the State of New York.




CHAPTER XVII.

REV. MR. WILLIAMS AT GREEN BAY; IMPORTANCE OF HIS RELATIONS THERE, &c.


It happened, that the Rev. Mr. 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 finally 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 the midst of
them, still their pastor and leader. He had 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 tribes:--the Oneidas and Stockbridges--with every
prospect, if things had gone on well, of bringing all the rest after
them. Mr. Williams had indulged the pleasing hope of 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 private worth had not only given him a well-earned
and merited ascendancy among the Indians; but a high and commanding
influence with the Government. He was widely known, well esteemed,
and universally respected. And his appearance and manners, from
childhood accustomed to the world in all its various shapes, portly in
person, dignified in mien, condescending, courteous, and affable--and
withal developing equally the European and Indian character, in all
the expressions of his countenance, and in the exhibitions of his
temper--showed him at once a man made for respect and influence.

Soon after Mr. Williams’s 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 excellencies, which adorn the female
character, Mrs. Williams was not inferior to her husband, as a man.

Although myself and Mr. Williams had been a long time separate, and
had not met more than once, and that only for a few moments, from 1806
to 1830, we yet had all the reasons, characteristic of the romantic
attachments of our earliest years, to cherish the kindest affections
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 interesting ground; and on an occasion so interesting, as that,
which had brought me to Green Bay, in August 1830.

The next day after 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. Williams to his
residence, eight miles above the settlement at the river’s mouth. This
unwonted and novel condition, in such a bark (_literally_ 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 adored that Providence, which had kept and guided us
through so many eventful scenes. We wondered at the concurrence of
events, which had thus thrown us together, and rather dreamt over it as
a vision, than realized it as sober fact.

Our first snug adjustment, however, in the canoe, is worthy of a
passing remark. He who has never stepped foot in this 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” (_alias_, 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
treacherous, than an Indian canoe, to him who is unaccustomed to its
whims. It is scarcely possible for such a person to get seated in it
without upsetting. And yet the Indian, who understands its temper, will
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 dislodge 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 over the tops 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 instinctive 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 pendant 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, Mr. Williams. How strange! What a scene is this!”--

“Indeed, Sir, and did we dream of it, when we run around the brick
school-house in the street of Long Meadow, and played our boyish pranks
in that never-to-be-forgotten and delightful 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 the 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 his 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 yesterday; 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 impolite?--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 my good and venerable father Ely’s
family? Blessed be their memory! And what do I not owe them! Some are
in heaven; and where are the rest? And all my old friends and patrons
in New England--I cannot name them, they are so many?”

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

“I should be base, indeed--I could never respect 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, occupied the hour or two, while the canoe was made
to stem the current, and 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-opening_, 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 contemplating the shifting scene, drinks in pleasure, 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
water-fowl, could effect 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. Williams, who set us
refreshments, a walk was proposed 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 another plain,
stretching backwards, under the sombre and apparently boundless orchard
of oaks.

“Here,” said Mr. Williams, “on this spot and along this line, I _had_
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 privileges, as to afford a
security for future exemption from the incursions of the white man, I
_had_ conceived and fondly cherished the project of this institution.
This wide and beautiful country _was_ 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
ejectments 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 existence--a fixed and permanent position was here
pledged to us, and seemed to be gained, without fear of disturbance.
Here opened to our imagination and to our hope--and I might 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 dissensions among
ourselves, which had formerly characterised 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 Government in
friendly 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, but peace and public faith, the means of intellectual
and moral culture, and the arts of civilization, brought perpetually to
bear on any people, however degraded, to elevate them to the highest
imaginable condition.

“Here, on this spot, I _had_ designed to found an Institution, which
might ultimately 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, _was_
mine, ceded by the tribes, as the reward of my services, and vesting
in my wife, in consideration 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 indemnification. 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 am a Canadian by birth, you know;--and by the same right, if I
choose to assert it, a subject of the British Empire. Although I am
sorry to say, that the British Government of the Canadas is even
behind that of the United States, in the proper, or at least, in the
_formal_ acknowledgment of Indian rights. They have never acknowledged
their original _territorial_ rights, nor their separate rights, as a
distinct community; 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:--_First_, They never look with
contempt, nor even with disrespect, on the colour of a man’s 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
unbecoming. Nay--I am almost provoked to add, what perhaps ill becomes
_me_--that it is contemptible. And _next_,--The door is completely
open in the Canadas for the incorporation of the Indians in all the
rights and immunities of citizenship;--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, according to his merit and his influence. And in the
records of their parliaments may be found at least the name of _one_
Indian, admitted to their deliberations, and to the supreme rights of
legislation.

“But I was going to say that, as we are here upon the borders of
the Canadas, and as these provinces comprehend many and important
Indian tribes, within their jurisdiction, and myself being a Canadian
by birth, I had not confined my views of Indian amelioration and
cultivation 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 Canadian 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
persuaded, that they never would refuse their patronage;--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 the Government and people of the United States,
and what, with the favour of the people of Great 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 company with you--that this territory is now
a candidate 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 settlement of Green Bay, which we
left this morning, filled by men, who are anticipating the opportunity
of wielding the destinies of this future commonwealth. Citizens from
the States are flocking in, occupying the posts of trade, speculating
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 Winnebagoes, who left the door of
my cabin a few minutes ago, brandishing their knives in a quarrel,
actually bleeding under the infliction of violence on each other,
and obliged to roll one of their number, dead drunk, into the canoe,
before they could proceed up the river? In the bottom of that canoe
you saw also a keg of whiskey, the occasion 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 up this river, to the white
settlement below, merely to purchase that whiskey;--for which, you may
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 machinery, down to the mouth of the river, and far around on
both sides of the head of the bay;--comprehending, in short, the key
of the territory;--and which we ourselves had purchased of the native
tribes in 1821-22--was formally purchased again of the same tribes,
in 1827, 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_
contract--but only to purchase the claim, which those tribes still held
over this territory, in relation to the United States; But we cannot
understand this. As our contract was made under the supervision of the
President of the United States, and received the official sanction of
his own hand and seal;--and as the contract conveyed to us entire, and
without reserve, for ever, all the right and title of those tribes in
the premises;--we cannot comprehend, either the reason, or propriety,
that the Government should negotiate with _them_ for the land, and
not with _us_;--unless the reason be simply this:--that they knew we
_would_ not sell, and that it is resolved to impeach and disturb our
claim. And although there has been no official announcement 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--that our purchases are
invalid. Indeed, it is on this ground alone, that all the 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 Commission has been sent up to force us to a
compromise, and 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 public offices, and the active and flourishing 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 solemnly 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 for my ejectment, by such a process. It was dear to me once,
but I cannot now hold it to the value of a song.

“And is there any hope, think you? The lamp of hope has long since
expired. We can never move again. We have no courage. Our tribes have
no courage. For where is the faith, on which we can rely?

“You shall see the state of things in the developements of the sittings
of this Commission.”




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 Stockbridge, Massachusetts, from which 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 otherwise 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 that 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 first retreat,
was in the neighbourhood of other tribes, where they hoped to enjoy, in
perpetuity and without disturbance, their own rights and their peculiar
ways of living. But after a generation or two, they found themselves
again surrounded and invaded by the whites; and as before narrated, and
for similar reasons, they removed again to the banks of the 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
memoranda;--observing, that the term _Kawkawlin_, 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 comparative importance of these _Falls_,
over another smaller rapid a few miles below;--both of which, by the
application of special forces, may be ascended with the bateaux, used
in navigating these waters.

       *       *       *       *       *

  _Grande Kawkawlin, Aug. 16, 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, after having been disappointed of their claims on
White River, Indiana. They number about 350 souls, and have probably
made greater attainments 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 highly charged with English blood. But in the moral state of
society, and in general improvement, the Brothertons are far behind the
Stockbridges. The Brothertons have not enjoyed the same uninterrupted
succession 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 finest 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 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 following inscription:--

  THE. GIFT. OF.

  THE. REV. DR. FRANCIS. AYSCOUTH.

  TO. THE.

  INDIAN. CONGREGATION. AT. HOUSATONNAC.

  IN. NEW. ENGLAND.

  MDCCXLV.

On the first blank page is the following certificate, 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 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 above other benefits, which he most
cheerfully obtained for the encouragement of the said Mr. Sergeant, and
in favour of the said Indians, at the request of their hearty friend
and well-wisher,

  “THOMAS CORAN.”

  “_London, the 31st of Dec. 1795._”

       *       *       *       *       *

I have conjectured, that the last date should be 1745, in order to
correspond with the inscription on the outside. But perhaps the
solution may otherwise be obtained. I have not felt at liberty to
restore the correspondence, as the characters, though in manuscript,
are quite distinct 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 _carefully_ used, and carefully
kept in the _ark of the covenant_! It came from _Old_ England to
the “Housatonnec, in the vast wilderness of _New_ 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 _this_ 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 _ark_,
which contains it, is almost superstitious. Nay, I had almost 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 Hebrews, and all
their brethren of the wildest tribes, in all their wanderings, have
never laid their hands upon an idol--have 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, unchangeable, 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?

Let the pious descendants of the English race, both in Great Britain
and America, be encouraged to imitate the _faith_ of the “Reverend
Doctor Francis Ayscouth,”--and of “the learned and pious Mr. John
Sergeant.” For here, in the Stockbridge tribe, is their reward. “From
generation to generation,” even under all the disadvantages of their
condition, these Indians have been growing better and better, ever
since they were first blessed by 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,
_so esteemed_, to enjoy a Christian Sabbath, without witnessing a
single impropriety, among a whole people of this description;--to see
the congregation, 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 religious abstraction
and absorption; and when their hearts and conscience were appealed to,
in the application of the subject of discourse, showing a depth and
quickness of feeling, which agitated their bosoms, and forced a passage
through the watery channels of the eye. And then to attend the Sabbath
school, reduced to all the order and discipline, which characterise the
best schools of this sort in the white settlements;--superintended,
indeed, by 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 language,
so pure, that if my eyes had been shut, and I could have 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 made
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 “compacted 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 settlements, until the inhabitants are able to erect
saw-mills, and produce boards and other lumber, essential to more
comely edifices. I have been gratified to remark, that this Indian
settlement has all the conveniences, and is equally 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 happens 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 300, 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 between the European
_habit_ and that of the wild tribes; measuring not inaptly the degree
of their civilization:--the women, for the most part, especially 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 incongruities. The men seldom wear hats--and their dress
also is ordinarily _midway_ between the European and Indian modes. The
flaps of their frock hang out to meet the trowsers, or high gaiters,
which terminate half way 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 of _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 respectability 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 yesterday, 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
intercommunication. 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 congregation. Or rather I might
say: the 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
been told me. They seem _all_ to be singers; and the mellowness and
sweetness of their voices, together with the accuracy of their ear,
and their horror of discord, ensure the sweetest harmonies in their
chorus. This tribe have been so long 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 Christian psalmody. I 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 performance, (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 congregation in public worship, for whom
it is more convenient, sing in their own language, simultaneously
with those, who sing in English;--and all without confusion. You may
recognise those, who sing in English, or Indian, by the movement of
their lips. It seems impossible for Indians, when they sing in chorus,
to avoid a simultaneous movement--which is never executed 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
performances of Christian psalmody, among the whites.

I noticed yesterday two interesting features, appertaining to the order
of their public worship:--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 them tingle and burn for the
rest of the day. And when a man or woman was seen nodding, 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 annoyance 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 abandoned 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 perceived, 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 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, the 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 this, 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 I 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 rose to reply to me, apologized for not speaking
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 put
forward for that purpose. But whenever Indians hold a public conference
with strangers, they seem to like a little of the pomp and circumstance
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 I had spoken to them that day and evening.
He thanked all the well-wishers and benefactors of the Indians among
the white people. He reflected, with great feeling, upon the goodness
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 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
eloquent _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
imagined 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 interchange of
good feeling, is unrivalled. No art of civilized life and manners can
pretend to keep company with his politeness. The white man 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 the forest, last
evening, accompanied with the suggestions of the occasion, and its
circumstances, I found myself involuntarily and repeatedly exclaiming
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 favoured gardens of Christian culture?
Many times did I think, in the midst of the scenes brought before me
yesterday: could the whole Christian world see and hear _this_, 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 never leave them, till they were
all raised 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 and consummate a design
so benevolent and glorious. With what expressions of good feeling and
gratitude do these Indians, old and young, male and 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 reserved 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
compelled “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 pardonable to have annihilated?




CHAPTER XIX.

THE ONEIDA SETTLEMENT AT DUCK CREEK, UNDER THE CARE OF THE REV. MR.
WILLIAMS, &c.


While the Stockbridges had planted their tribe at the _Grande
Kawkawlin_, on the east bank of Fox River, and in the course of some
half-dozen years, reared a flourishing settle settlement; built houses
and barns in the usual style of the white settlements in similar
circumstances; cleared away portions of the forest, and reduced their
farms to an interesting state of improvement; organized and brought
into salutary operation 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
machinery;--exhibiting, in a word, a most interesting _phasis_ of
civilization, along with the purest morals, under the simplest
manners;--their state of society being rather of the patriarchal
form, and governed by hereditary chiefs, according to the immemorial
custom of Indian tribes;--contemporaneously with the establishment of
this settlement, the _Oneidas_, under the auspices of the Rev. Mr.
Williams and his associate 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
settlement 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 interesting, 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 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, the 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 destitute;--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 consecrated 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
territory remained undisturbed; when we think, that he is probably the
only man of the age, 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 of his courage, are likely to
come the blighting of _all_ hope and the prostration of all courage
among those tribes, for their future elevation and importance;--we
cannot look upon the untoward 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 how the Indian tribes of
that region can rise above this wreck of their hopes. There is a way,
indeed, hereafter to be considered, which leaves a glimmering 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 have
thrown in the shield of its protection, and saved the Indians from
these disasters. And even then, such a man, as Mr. Williams, cannot be
raised from the grave. Or, if he should be among the living, (which
is not very probable) a state of health 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 enterprise, as he must
have the credit of having once conceived. May a Phœnix 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 purchase and
removal--and also with the unexpected 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 territory, where the New York Indians chose to settle, their
negotiations were principally confined to those tribes--viz. the
_Menomenies_ and _Winnebagoes_. It was of these nations they
purchased, and with them, that they entered into friendly alliances
and solemn covenants, under the auspices of Government in 1821-22.
They had succeeded in cultivating friendship, and in persuading
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;-although it is well
understood, that a transition from barbarism 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 prospect in the outset,
and in the first stages of the operation 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
irreconcileable hostility. And they have succeeded but too well. The
Menomenies and Winnebagoes, once friendly, are now the implacable
enemies of their brethren from the East. They 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 independent 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 themselves
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
Covenants, under which they had sold their lands--to ask for special
Commissions to investigate and settle the disputes;--and the result,
the meanwhile, being 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 writing these pages I have learned, that
three of the most considerable tribes of the North-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 permitted to retain such reservations of land, as
will not materially interfere with the political designs of those, who
have thrown them within such narrow limits. It will be understood,
then, that the tribes more immediately brought into controversy with
the New York Indians, were the Winnebagoes and Menomenies; who in
the whole affair have obeyed the instructions of those interested
white people, that had gained an ascendency over them, for their own
purposes. “These poor Menomenies and Winnebagoes,” it was said, “have
been overreached, and robbed of their hunting and fishing grounds, by
their more crafty brethren from New York. We wish to see their lands
restored.” For what? The honest answer would have been:--“That we may
get them ourselves.” These men felt a great deal of sympathy for the
wild tribes, so long as their lands were under the control of Indians,
who 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 possessors to retire into an unknown
wilderness! “But, they say, we give them a fair and honourable 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 permitted to stay there?




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_ they are called among Indians,
and as in fact they are, (couriers) were despatched to all the tribes
interested in the public deliberations about to be opened, to notify
them of the time, place, and object of the Convention. They were
formally served with copies of letters from their great Father, the
President of the United States, assuring them of his good wishes,
and of his desire to bring all their disputes to an amicable and
satisfactory adjustment; and that for this purpose he had sent Erastus
Root, John T. Mason, and James M’Call, good and true men, to hold a
_talk_[13] with his children in the North-West, who had quarrelled
among themselves, and asked their great Father’s mediations;--to hear
all they might have to say on either side;--to recommend peace and a
just settlement of their disputes;--to remove all occasions 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 interpreted;--kind enough certainly, and very promising. And
these notices were accompanied by a certified copy of the particular
instructions, given to the Commissioners, and investing them with their
powers;--setting forth the understanding of the case in that department
of Government at Washington, 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 proper thus to have
made these instructions public, and some regret was manifested by the
Commissioners, that they had done so, instead of keeping them in their
own power, I shall take no advantage of an official inadvertence, which
was afterwards regretted by the board of Commissioners. I have already
recognized the bearings of these instructions in another place. As
I have sufficient reasons to believe, that notwithstanding they had
the formal sanction of the Government, the construction of them was
yet resigned to a private discretion, which was previously inclined
to what I esteem to be the wrong side, I am not ambitious to expose
them. This supposed history of the instructions may, perhaps, save
the conscience of the highest authorities, in this particular item.
They did not understand the case; and it was _convenient_ 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, and obliged them to do wrong, if they did any thing.

Even if the Commissioners had been left to their own unrestricted
discretion, it was no easy 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
Mississippi. 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. _They_
must not be _astounded_ by the manifestation of a determination 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 important to the party in power, to
be despised, were already planted 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 _bar_ in their way, and
circumventing their designs, would be running a risk, which could not
conveniently be hazarded. It was prudent, therefore, to _assume_, that
this territory _must_ become a separate State;--and that nothing must
be done by this Commission, 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 although their decisions, controlled by such considerations,
might not be a final settlement 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 interesting, to observe the
arrangements making among the Indians for the public Convocation of the
24th of August. Some several days beforehand, 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 shores of the Bay, towards the place of rendezvous, near
Fort Howard, on the north bank and some four or five miles from the
mouth of the river, in the heart of what is called the settlement of
Green Bay:--all filled with men, women, and children, and with tackle,
not for war, but to build _lodges_. In other words, they brought their
families, their 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 24th was a time of great
bustle and activity. The river literally swarmed with canoes. And all
along its banks on either side, within a mile of the point fixed upon
to hold the Council, lodges of Indians might be seen, single or in
clusters, teeming with their peculiar and various population of men,
women, children, dogs, pet bears, pet foxes, &c. &c. It is understood,
of course, that I am now speaking of _wild_ Indians. Those belonging to
the same tribe manifested a disposition to concentrate at one point,
and 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 thrown together without any order, every new comer
setting 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 birch
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 concealed 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 extravagant show. Displays of
this sort belong to the privileged orders.

But I was speaking of this town of the Menomenies, which so suddenly,
and so much like enchantment sprung into being before our eyes, on the
north bank of Fox River. I 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 float away, my eye caught, through
the shifting openings of the mist, a 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 river, not differing materially from those of the
Menomenies, except in not being so extensive. The whole number of
Indians collected on this occasion was perhaps a little less than
_three thousand_;--it being intended only as a convocation of the
chiefs. But curiosity, and the hope of participating in the gratuitous
distributions of some food, and whiskey, and trifling articles, which
are commonly made by the Government on such occasions, had brought
them together. It is humiliating and painful to be obliged 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 much and how
altogether the Indian is in the white man’s power.

I have been painfully struck and often deeply affected, at the proofs
I had 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 offence. 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 their credulity;
(I declare it as a _consequence_, rather than an _intent_) it would
certainly never authorise these public occasions. They are demoralising
beyond all estimation--fearfully so. It is not simply a season of
dissipation--it is a time of absolute and uninterrupted riot--a riot of
drunkenness and debauchery.

It has been said, that the Indian is constitutionally adapted to
drunkenness, when he can get the means, and to its consequent vices
and ruin; and that there 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
inconsiderable influence. I would be glad to believe, that it has no
influence with men, who are to be found in high places.

Is it necessary to say, that this charge is as egregiously
unphilosophical, as it is atrociously cruel and libellous? I have
called it inhuman; it is all that; it is barbarous. The Indian, in 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 intoxicating 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 affords, 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
affections 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 highest are daily falling victims to this insinuating
foe of human happiness--shall 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 disgraceful--it is
abominable--it is as cruel as it is unchristian.

I protest, therefore, on the ground of humanity--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 of
Washington, until they might blush, and be 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 tumult. The
Indian is no longer himself. They riot together in intemperance, and
the worst of vices. They lie drunk in heaps. You cannot walk abroad,
but you must dodge to keep out of the way of the staggering and
furious Indian. The grey-headed chief and the well-formed and athletic
youth reel along the way together. The mother and her daughter and her
little child are often seen in the same condition.

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 respectable condition,--and for
them, well-dressed. Some of them displayed silver ornaments of no
inconsiderable value, (for which they are very partial) lying upon
their shoulders and neck, and suspended from their ears and nose. Among
the rest I saw a beautiful young woman, richly dressed, full of smiles,
and really charming. She stood, and moved, and shone in all her maiden
pride and loveliness. The next day, as I was walking along the banks of
the river, 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 countenance dejected and disconsolate, and her eye fixed upon
the ground, she moaned piteously 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 dishonoured, 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 dialogue was a man, whose opinion, in such
a matter, may be respected.




CHAPTER XXI.

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


The Commissioners and suite had taken lodgings 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 number 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 perhaps a space of thirty by sixty feet, with a long
and rough table crossing one end, to accommodate the court and their
secretaries; and the rest of the ground under cover was filled 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 persons,
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 the purpose; but more especially to afford a freedom of
access and retreat to the natives, who could not comfortably endure
confinement. Here they might come near, or stand a little way off, or
squat down, or lie down, as 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 24th, the chiefs of
the tribes, who were interested in the deliberations to be opened,
being assembled, in pursuance of the notices, which had been served
upon them, at the order of the Commissioners; and the flat-bottomed
ferry boat, being put in requisition for the occasion, and drawn to
the shore, the Honourable the Commissioners, their secretaries,
interpreters, some of the chiefs, and strangers--as many as the
boat could conveniently receive--began to make demonstration of a
grave and solemn movement towards the place of grave and solemn
deliberation;--accompanied, as they crossed the stream, by numerous
skiffs and canoes, filled with all sorts, whites and Indians, old
and young, male and female, ragged or otherwise;--not indeed a very
splendid cortège.

The Honourable Commissioners, having landed on the other shore, with
all due solemnity and decorum, took their seats, 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 quarter of a mile,
that their Fathers, the Commissioners, were waiting their attendance.
But their immobility of temper suffered no shock. They were not ready.
Another messenger was despatched. But still their movements were in no
wise hurried. They could not understand, but that all the world, if
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 mysterious 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
multiplying and varying their mysterious rites. They faced, and looked
upon the Court with imperturbable 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 strange and unaccountable demonstrations. Not a feature of their
countenance was seen to move.

Indians always enter upon public and important deliberations with great
formality. And the Menomenies, being by far more numerous than the
Winnebagoes on the present occasion, making three-fourths of the entire
assemblage,--and to whom all the country about Green Bay originally
belonged,--that is, before it was assumed by the whites,--seemed
disposed to make more of the pending solemnities;--or at least, were
more tardy in the 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 considered purely an Indian
Council. The _pipe of friendship_, however, the bowl being silver and
stuck to a tube of four feet long, was solemnly filled with tobacco,
and solemnly lighted, and solemnly presented to the President of the
Court, who solemnly took one solemn whiff;--and then with the same
solemnity it was passed to the second and third members of the Court,
who solemnly puffed 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 successively, it was a sublime sight! I
will not attempt to describe it. But of this I am quite sure:--that,
if the Commissioners had allowed the Indians to smoke first, they
would have profited 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 circumvented; in which case, no great loss to the
world. For nothing could be done, without smoking the pipe. And by this
solemnity the Council was organized and opened--with this addition,
however: that the chiefs exceeding the Court in politeness and in the
manifestation of good feeling, each in turn, and all in train, rose
and gave the right hand to each of the Commissioners, in succession.
Indeed the members 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 French and Indian, under the same skin;
and every incongruous combination of dress upon them, from the first
corruption of European fashion, down to the purest Indian. And there
was the naked savage; (_all_ naked, except two small aprons of twelve
inches square, 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 _Evil One_; some with one side of the face red, and the other
black; others showing a great variety of colours, most fantastically
thrown together; one with one feather in the hair, another with two,
or more, and some with twenty, or less; part of them sitting under the
pavilion, part standing without, and part lying down in the open plain
upon their breasts, with their heads sticking up, like snakes, from
the grass; all furnished with pipes, of their own manufacture, varying
in length from four feet to four inches, and a tobacco-pouch made of
the skin of some animal, in which is also carried an apparatus for
striking fire; every one girt with a cincture about his loins, to which
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. &c. In the hand
of each Indian is always to be seen, besides his pipe, a bow and arrow,
or tomahawk, or rifle, or weapon of some description;--more generally
his tomahawk is his pipe, the head serving as the bowl, and the
handle for the stem, it being bored into a tube;--and nameless other
appearances did this assemblage exhibit, which language is inadequate
to describe:--all waiting to see and hear.

But there was another group, called Indians, sitting by themselves,
whose dress, countenance, manners, 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 possible for
other human beings to be sunk so far below them, as to raise them by
comparison to such a proud pre-eminence. All wore the same natural
complexion, and all were evidently of the same stock. But _here_ was
a class _elevated_--distinguished by such marks of superiority, as to
make the difference between them and their wild untutored brethren,
greater than would appear, by bringing 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 higher and higher, by their pure 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 has 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 exemption from any
thing vulgar, profane, indecent, or intemperate. For moral worth and
good manners, they rose and towered above every thing around them, not
excepting the white 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 _thirty_:--representing
the Stockbridges, the Oneidas, and Brothertons, of the State of
New York;--and the Menomenies, Winnebagoes, and Chippeways, of the
North-West Territory. The Brothertons were interested, as purchasers
of land, although they had not yet removed. The Chippeways were also
allowed to be interested in some of the discussions pending. And
all these tribes speak so many different languages; the Brothertons
excepted, 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 Winnebagoes and
Menomenies. But there were many _half-bloods_, as they are called,
that could speak French, and one or the other of these languages, with
equal fluency; having been brought up in families, where both tongues
are in use. When a Menomenie chief spoke--for the Commissioners, it
passed through French into English; for the Winnebagoes, through French
into their language; and for the New York Indians, through French and
English, into theirs respectively; and _vice versâ_. The Chippeway
language would have made the communication more direct, as it is more
or less common, in all those regions, and with the different tribes.
But in matters deemed important, they did not like to trust to any
uncertainty. Interpretation was generally done at the end of every
short sentence;--and after the utterance of every simple thought;--a
slow and tedious process. And by the time a thought had passed,
_mediately_, 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
transformations.

To a spectator and stranger to Indian Councils, the most interesting
part was the extemporaneous speeches of the chiefs; which were
delivered longer, or shorter, by more or less, on every day of the
public deliberations. The principal speakers were _four_ of the
Menomenie chiefs; _two_ of the Winnebagoes; and _two_, and sometimes a
third and fourth, of the New York Indians.

The elocution of the New York Indians was unadorned in style, and mild
in manner. Resting principally upon their written communications, they
had not much to say. Their education and long intercourse with the
whites had entirely disrobed them of the native wildness of Indian
eloquence. John Metoxen, however, an aged and venerable chief, of
the Stockbridges--(than whom a man of more exalted worth cannot be
found on earth)--on the last day of the Council, as all attempts at
reconciliation and adjustment of differences had failed, addressed
himself _sentimentally_ to his brethren of 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 old, and head
chief of his tribe. By his language and manner he first brought us into
the presence of God, so that we felt ourselves to be there. Even the
wild Indians are a most religious people, and a pattern of piety to
many, who are called Christians. That is: they always acknowledge a
superintending Providence. They never begin, nor end a speech, without
a reference to the Great Spirit. But John Metoxen is a Christian;--and
he has enlightened and practical views of the Christian’s God;--and on
the occasion 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 the Menomenies
and Winnebagoes on the other, as the original contracting parties, now
at variance; he called on the Commissioners to witness the repeated
and solemn pledges of Government, 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 affair; he solemnly declared, that his only confidence
now rested in the God of nations, who had propounded himself the
guardian of the oppressed, and the avenger of their wrongs;--and
whatever might become of himself, of his family, or of his people,
he felt, that it was now his last and only prerogative, to surrender
their cause into the hands of their God. “_God is witness_,” said he,
lifting up his eyes to heaven. “Brothers, I have no more to say.”[14]

It is due, that I should say something of the speeches of the wild
Menomenies and Winnebagoes. No conception of romance, in my own mind,
had ever reached the wildness and extravagance of their thoughts, or of
their manner of expressing them. And besides this, they are not wanting
in shrewdness, and what perhaps, in more dignified bodies, would be
called parliamentary 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 little occasion for the _litera
scripta_. But before they 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 confusion,
promised them a copy, and adjourned.

The next day, the Winnebagoes and Menomenies still refused to go on
for want of an _interpreter_. It had happened, the day previous, that
the Commissioners had promised to provide for these tribes, in this
particular, and to submit to their own nomination, notwithstanding
that they had brought along the public interpreter from Detroit. But
the young man, a half-blood, named by these Indians, to discharge this
office, thinking himself equal to a Member of Congress, demanded _eight
dollars_ (1_l._ 12_s._) per day. Whereupon the Commissioners demurred,
and sent the Indians word, that they might get their own interpreter,
if they did not like the one employed by the Commissioners. The
Indians, however, thought better; and concluded to hold the
Commissioners to their engagement. Council being assembled, the new
interpreter was not at his post. “What is the matter?”--said the Court.
One of the chiefs rose and said: “Our Fathers told us yesterday, they
would 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 manner; the whites joined with them--and
the Commissioners, confounded, ordered an adjournment again; and
having grown wiser by this schooling, engaged the interpreter, as was
understood, on his own terms.

The wild Indians are not bad in managing the few facts, which
they have in their possession; and they are certainly possessed of
unrivalled skill in magnifying trifles and dignifying nothings. They
will deliver themselves of the following sentence, (which by the by is
only one word:)--“Yerensotavakarangetakowa”--in a manner to astound all
one’s senses, and raise the highest expectation. And lo! when it comes
to be interpreted, it reads:--“_the greatest fiddle possible_”--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 uniformly commenced their addresses, or speeches,
and almost every sentence--(after waiting for the interpreter to
perform his office)--with a strong, monosyllabic exclamation,
involving very emphatically the guttural and aspirate elements, and
signifying:--“_Attention--hear--I am about to speak_.” It would be
mockery for any but an Indian to attempt to exemplify it. The chiefs
would always address themselves directly to the Commissioners, and with
the greatest possible vehemence, as if they understood; and when they
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
chief, in Council, whether the subject were important, or trifling,
or in whatever degree it might have either of these characters, when
it was not superlatively marked with a loud and vehement elocution,
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 _grunt_, and sometimes a boisterous uproar,
would express their applause. This single, _ventral_ expression of
approbation, if it might be called so, was apt to be heard, at the end
of every sentence, when they were gratified. And I question, whether
any orators of a civilized people, ancient or modern, were 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 unfrequently exhaust their
gravest meditations on trifles: like children they can be pleased,
and even 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 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 imperative 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 deliberations, that the usual presents from Government, at the
breaking up of such occasions, would be withheld, because they had
refused to come to an adjustment of differences. One of the Menomenie
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 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 understood, 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 recognition 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 dependence on the providence of God. Their other affections
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 INDIAN AFFAIRS IN THE WAR DEPARTMENT, &c.


It might perhaps be expected, that I should give more of the
_political_ character of this Council, and make the Court itself as
conspicuous, as the place they occupied; that I should report their
progress in order, and develope their transactions 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. I 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, that are worthy of notice
for such an object.

It is proper to observe, that all the affairs of the Indians, in
their connexion and intercourse and official 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 impropriety, except that
the _name_ 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 originally committed to that
department of government 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
transferred to another office, or that a new department be created for
this specific object, the better.

It is in truth to the War Department of the United States, to which we
must look for all the immediate Government movements and transactions
in relation to the Indians. There every plan in the treatment of
Indians is conceived and organized;--and thence issue all the
authorities to hold agencies and commissions among them, for whatever
purpose, of an official nature. The destiny of whole tribes is settled
there, and often by a single mind, without consultation. There were
conceived, and as we have reason to believe, at the discretion of one
individual, the instructions of the Commissioners to Green 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 _principles_, 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 instructions in full, and bring the plan to
immediate consummation.

But unforeseen obstacles interposed; the effect of which, however,
was only to suspend the result. The New York Indians had caused to be
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 Government;--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 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,
however, in a different 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 document
of the greatest interest, as being done by Indians, allowing for the
little assistance they received. Themselves furnished the materials,
collected the facts;--the final copy of the document was made by their
own hand;--it was read before the Commissioners by one of their own
number;--and laid upon their table, as the only basis, on which they
could act;--and it is now on file in the public office, at Washington,
not only as an unanswerable demonstration of the rights, which it
vindicates, in this particular instance;--but as a proof equally
unanswerable, that an Indian may be a statesman, not to suffer by a
comparison with any other. The New York Indians had among them, on
the present occasion, a plural number of men, of a liberal 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 solemn protest against the course of procedure, of which
they had been 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 beyond the scope of their instructions. Yet the course
pursued by the New York Indians seemed reasonable--all the world
would deem it reasonable. 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 disgracing themselves, and disgracing the
Government. The course pointed out, was a course of violence;--and
however the end contemplated, was evidently resolved, and must finally
be attained--the Commissioners, suddenly opening 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 conclusion, 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 offered, 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 existing 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, between the parties in controversy; and
not succeeding in this, they drew up a plan of settling the disputes,
which they proposed to recommend to Government.

But it was impossible for _such_ 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
developement of Indian character and Indian wrongs.




CHAP. XXIII.

SPECIMENS OF INDIAN SPEECHES.

_By_ JOHN METOXEN, _head Chief of the Stockbridge 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 the great Spirit, who has
brought your faces to our faces in health and peace. We shake hands
with our great father, the President, in our hearts. We are glad to
take you, his children 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 has promised to keep off our enemies, if we will
help him keep off his enemies. We lived under his shadow first in the
east country, (Massachusetts) 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 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 together, 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 River.
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 promised 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, President Monroe, would
die so soon--or that another 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 find 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 cannot help it. Strong
water makes him quarrel with his neighbour, 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 they 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.

“We lived in peace with the Winnebagoes 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 read to you, and is now in your hand. We wish you
to think on what is written in that paper. We wish you to carry that
paper to our great father, the President--and shake 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. The white man stands between us and keeps us apart. We
say one thing, and they say another thing. We 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.

“We 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 performance of their agreement. While you have that paper, you
know our mind. We shall wait with great desire to know the answer of
our great father and of the chiefs at Washington.

“I have no more to say.”

       *       *       *       *       *

It is proper perhaps to say, that the paper referred to in this speech,
is the document noticed in the last chapter, as having had such an
important influence on the doings of the Commissioners, arresting
the current in which they were directed by their instructions, and
defeating the object which those instructions contemplated. 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--in consequence 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 chief, 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. We thank the Great Spirit, who
has carried you safely over the big 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 great father, that we love him,
and that we will always do as he tells us. Does he live in a big house?
We shall be glad to go and see him. Tell him, if he will send us some
money, and ask us, we 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,
Menomenies and Winnebagoes, 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. We 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 our white brothers
here, who 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.”

       *       *       *       *       *

The request made by this chief for learned counsel was granted by the
Court; and a gentleman, residing at Green Bay, who filled 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 Commission;--and he prepared written
answers to all the written communications of the New York Indians.


_Speech of_ DANIEL BREAD, _a chief of the Oneidas, about thirty years
old_.

“Brothers, I have not much to say. I am glad, that your people and my
people have one religion. We worship the same Great Spirit--we love
the same Lord Jesus Christ, the 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 has 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 us again--they are getting our lands--they will not
let 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 neighbours, 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 living by ourselves, in peace and
prosperity--that it would be better for us to come out here, than to
live in the State of New York--and that he would always remember and
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 remember also, that Ahab
wanted Naboth’s vineyard, and Naboth said: ‘The Lord forbid, that I
should resign the inheritance of my fathers.’ But _we_ did give up
the inheritance of _our_ fathers, for the sake of peace--because our
great father said he wanted 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 of_ FOUR-LEGS, _head chief of the Winnebagoes_.--N.B. It
    is not to be understood, that this man actually had as many legs,
    as his name indicates. The fancy of the American Aborigines, in
    the invention and application of names, especially to their
    chiefs, is well known to be greatly exuberant, and not a little
    removed from what the Europeans would call classical purity. All
    that _Four-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 glad 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 swords 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 forests all around the
lake of my fathers; (Winnebago 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, and 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 wish for
peace.

“I have no more to say.”

       *       *       *       *       *

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,
from the singular turn, which he happened to take in his speech. He is
notwithstanding (_was_--for he is dead now) a warrior of great fame.
He no doubt really desired 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.


    _By_ 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 York
to Green Bay, and told them to build their cabins at the _Grande
Kawkawlin_, I thought they would have peace, and that I should die in
peace. But I see, that I must go down to the grave without comfort. It
is not peace. All the doings of this Council show, that there is no
rest for my people, who came here for rest.

“I wish to say a word to the Winnebagoes 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 white 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. We said to you: Give us land that 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; and now there is no more peace. He will get 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. We make you witnesses this day--you
shall witness to our great father and to his chiefs--you shall witness
to God--that all we have said, is truth. We have been 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. We left our lands in the East country,
and came here on the understanding of those treaties. We have trusted
entirely to the faith they have pledged to us. If _they_ cannot be
depended on, we know not what to trust. You offer to make a _new_
treaty in the name of our great father. Make 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 thing 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. We 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 of King David’s son, which I have read in the book
presented to my father’s father by your father’s father, from over the
big salt lake: ‘So I returned, and considered all the oppressions 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 _they_ had no comforter.’ God is witness of our old
engagements--God is witness how they have been kept--and God will
reward us, according to our deeds.

“Brothers, I have done.”




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 absorbed
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--no _material_ vessel
of capacity;--but they were evidently and earnestly stirring up
something over a fire. They formed a circle, men 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 suddenly, 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, I 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-masonry_;--and if you could stay
long enough to see the whole, you would be greatly amused.” “But do
the _women_ take a part?” “O yes--the Indians are farther advanced in
Free-masonry, than civilized nations:--they have taken higher degrees.
The white masons, you know, are just _beginning_ to confer degrees upon
women. But Indians have done it from time immemorial.” “But the society
here is open.” “Certainly. Secresy is all nonsense. 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_ purposes, 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 sometimes for several successive
days, without intermission, except by very short intervals of repose.
The Indian drum is made exactly according to the philosophy of the
martial instrument of music, which bears this name in Europe. But if
the _beauty_ 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
planted 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 borrowed the
suggestion from Europeans, or the latter from the former; or whether
each came by the discovery independent of the other--is of no
importance to our present purpose 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
furnish them with iron for nails. An empty keg, when the strong water
has all been drawn, (which does not take long) is often appropriated
to this purpose. In which case one of the 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 construction. It is even sad and
melancholy in the highest degree.

And is not the white 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 soothe 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 Indian 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 susceptible 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
the 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 medicine, and
the common sustenance of nature are perhaps scrupulously withholden.
Every thing now depends on the miraculous influence 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
circle, weeping and sadly moaning. If the patient 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 higher pitch; the drum sounds with more earnest beat;
the contagion of sobbing and moaning spreads and becomes universal;
the circle is enlarged by an accession of friends and neighbours,
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 notwithstanding. 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 resolved 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 barbarous. For the entertainment of the
Commissioners and strangers, and other spectators of the Council, which
had been engaged in its deliberations 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 Winnebagoes, and the second by the rival efforts of the two tribes.
As the night is 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 approach 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 each
other. The Convention necessarily brought their chiefs and warriors and
common people into near and intimate contact. They very prudently 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 repassing of such a public and promiscuous assemblage, the people
of the two tribes were brought side by side, and without interruption
crossed each other’s tracks. The mutual animosities and 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 Menomenies. This uncomfortable
temper was very much awakened into active energy by the precedence,
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 Winnebagoes themselves were strangers
at the Bay, and were in many respects of their history and manners
more remarkable. The Winnebagoes by themselves got up a war-dance
for the amusement of the whites;--and the sport went off so well,
that the Menomenies resolved they would not be outdone in a feat of
this kind. Accordingly on the next day after the first exhibition,
great preparations were observed to be making on both sides for a
_rival_ war-dance. And the motives of emulation were so powerful,
the excitement of 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 character, than
any nation around them;--looking down with perfect contempt on all
other tribes, especially upon their neighbours, the Menomenies. While
the Menomenies on the present occasion were by far the most numerous,
and exhibiting themselves under the special excitement 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 one instrument among them, the structure and tones of
which are not unlike the flagelet, adapted to the softer passions, and
designed no doubt for quiet, domestic scenes;--the music of which 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 and 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 effectual, 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
prominent instrument is the _drum_, the construction 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 use of the water
I am ignorant of) and stretched 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 simplest inventions--was
humiliating and affecting. 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 supposed 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. Instantly every countenance of the anxious and expectant group
lighted up with joy, and a sudden and clamorous shout of applause,
mingled with the sounds of the drum, told most emphatically, that
their whole heart was satisfied, 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 gracefulness 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 step. A single Indian will make
the ground vibrate--;a troop of them will produce an effect like the
earthquake. It is the determination and tremendous character of their
movements, which develope the passion of their souls.

The leader of the band of a war-dance is a stentorian vociferator, who
seems to take his key-note, by rubbing a long notched wood pole, with
another piece of wood;--that is, by this most unharmonious grating, not
of sounding metals, but of _un_-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 monotony; then
suddenly passing a wide discreet interval, into a sharp falsette, or
scream, which makes the Indian yell; or what is more commonly called
the _war-whoop_. 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
_whoop_ is repeated by all the dancers every two, or three minutes,
and seems to be a kind of letting off, or explosion of the highest
possible degree of excitement. 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 conception 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 bristling 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 multitude of others, all accoutred like himself, and like himself
performing the same wild and indescribable evolutions; sometimes like
lightning, and then more circumspectly. A spectator of such a scene
fears every moment, that in their apparent and wild intoxication, they
will wound, or kill each other, by running against the naked weapons,
to which they are exposed in their 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 thousand
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 properly be called _beating
for recruits_, (and such indeed is its whole character and grand
intention) is peculiarly significant and impressive. A small group,
or band of _challengers_, as they might be termed, who are also the
principal musicians for the occasion, take their seats, squatted 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 rifle, 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? 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
clamour, to urge him to the decisive action. Still he 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 challengers 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
of exultation rend the air, from all the assembled multitude--and
his name and hand are now pledged. Next, with the weapon in hand, and
still dancing to the music, he performs successively, and with all his
characteristic cunning, the various feats of discovering, 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 number, and another;--and so they fill the ranks
for war.

In the midst of these sports of the Winnebagoes, 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 explosion of
heaven’s artillery, a tremendous _war-whoop_ 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 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 sheep 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
Commissioners 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 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
gauntlet, 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 blade 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 consistent with his
importance to join his warriors in the exercises of this occasion. He
only presided, and smiled his approbation at their excellent 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 determination, 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 Winnebagoes. If my warriors had done
this deed, I would have pierced their hearts with this javelin, 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
Winnebagoes, and commenced _their_ war-dance, in defiance 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 satisfactory 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 surprise
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 really made the
greatest and most attractive show. The wrath of _Four-legs_ was kindled
within him. He threw his javelin upon the ground, and stepped forth
upon the arena, as was well understood, 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 the 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 unexpected and resistless feat, and big
with portentous meaning. The Menomenies were compelled to 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
pause;--and by the significant and angry murmurs, which passed between
the parties, it seemed doubtful which way it would turn. The prisoners
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 I and many others were glad, when this affair was over. It gave
to the sports of the evening a most grave and serious aspect; and all
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 consequence 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 renewal of such a scene.

The amazing power of _pantomime_ was most 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 measur’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 his battle feats,
        While his dark club the measure beats.”

        _Poem of Ontwa._

While writing these pages I have received the following account of
a war dance among the 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; although 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 and the profane. Being told our business, he run back
and reported; and our approach seemed to cause neither derangement,
nor suspension. We eagerly rode up to the scene of action; getting our
horses as near as 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.[15]

“The position in which we found these warriors, was that of a large
ring, one circle 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, he returned and squatted in his place. Another then performed
a similar feat, and then another, till all had given a specimen, by way
of anticipation and sample of their approaching conflict and expected
victory. Meantime the hoarse 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 warriors to bloody deeds. One, perhaps, had lost a wife, another a
child, or they represented 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 exhibited 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 snapping at me so sharply, as to startle me. This proved
quite amusing to his comrades. All were entirely naked, except the
usual flap, and their bodies were painted black--black as the sooty
African. Of all the human beings I ever saw, none approached so near my
idea of devils.

“Much of the ceremony consisted in a sort of 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 properly 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 simultaneously, 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 marching 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 wild 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
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 engaged 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 concluded, and
they return home with their scalps victorious. They are not allowed
moreover to eat with their families; they must sleep separately, must
go naked, the flap excepted; 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 anecdotes 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 relics of Indian oratory of
earlier times, and specimens of their primitive heroism and nobleness
of character. 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 set round his parent’s tomb. I do not remember at this
moment from what authority 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, trembling at that doleful sight, a
spirit cried aloud:--‘Behold, my son, whom I 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 monument 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 newly intruded in our land. If this be suffered, I
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.”

The two following brief speeches I cannot date. 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 Warriors, by_ ADAIR.

“Your chief knew, that your guns were burning in your hands; that your
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 off 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 well known, that a large
number of civilized (?) adventurers were traversing the frontiers at
this time, who sometimes disguised themselves as Indians, and who
thought little more of killing one of that people (the Indians) than
shooting 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 suspecting an attack from the whites. Cresap
and his party concealed themselves on the bank of the river, and the
moment the canoe 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 little girl. Among
these 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 condescend 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 countrymen 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 _Cresap_,
the last spring, in cold blood, and _unprovoked_, murdered all the
relations of _Logan_, not sparing even my women and children. 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 there to mourn for Logan? _Not one._”

                  ----“They left of all my tribe
        Nor man, nor child, nor things 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 human veins!”

        _Campbell._

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 see how happy you all
are. And then I thought:--this was ours. My ancestors lived here. They
enjoyed this ground 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:--“_No_--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._


_Speech of_ CORNPLANTER _to General_ WASHINGTON, _in 1790_.

“Father, When your army entered the country 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 _Cornplanter_ 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, promised 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 his heart before the Great Spirit; and earlier
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 should plunder the innocent to repay themselves.

“The whole season, which others have employed 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, _but 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 hear your answer
to this, that we may know, that you are just.”


_Speech of a Pawnee Chief to_ MR. MONROE, _President of the United
States, delivered at Washington_.

“_My 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.

“_My great Father._ I 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 father
here,[16] who invited me from home, under whose wings I have been
protected. Yes, my great Father, I 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 indebted--the Father of us all:--He,
who made us, and placed us on this earth. I feel grateful to the Great
Spirit, for strengthening my heart for such an undertaking, and for
preserving the 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
enemies;--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 acknowledge 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.

“_My great Father._ I will not tell a lie. I am going to tell the
truth. You love your country; you love your people; you love the
manner, in which they live; and you think your people brave. I am like
you, my great Father:--I love my country; I love my people; I love the
manner, in which they 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, deer, and other wild animals; we
have also an abundance of horses. We have every thing we want. We
have plenty of land--_if you will 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 control. We had
then seen nothing, which we 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, and 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’ claws, &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 Pawnee Brave._[17]

“The facts in the following anecdote of a Pawnee Brave, son of _Old
Knife_, one of the delegation, who visited Washington in 1821-22,
highly 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 of 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 witnessed the scene.

“This _Brave_, or warrior, of fine size, figure, and 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 surrounding 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 arms, placed her on one of the horses,
and mounting the other himself, he made the utmost speed towards the
nation and friends of the captive. 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 necessary 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 Washington, led the young ladies
of Miss White’s seminary 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, from a cruel death. Their address to
the chief closes, as follows:--

“_Brother_, 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 will listen more than I ever did to white
men. I am glad, that my brothers and sisters have heard of the good
act that I have done. My brothers and sisters think, that I did it in
ignorance; but I now know what I have done. I did do it in ignorance,
and did not know, that I did good. But by giving me _this_ medal, I
know it.”--_Morse’s Report, &c._


END OF VOL. I.


R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD-STREET-HILL.




FOOTNOTES:

[1] As the Author has frequently been obliged to employ the distinctive
phrase of _wild Indians_ in this work, and has inadvertently omitted to
explain it--he would take this opportunity to say, that it indicates
those Indians, who have not been cultivated and modified by the
influence of civilization.

[2] 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 agreement between geological
observations and the Mosaic account of the Creation and Deluge.

[3] This story is constructed from information obtained upon the spot,
and is in substance true.

[4] Not having the exact dimensions of these lakes from authority,
under hand, these statements are made from recollection, and a glance
view of the map. It is thought they are within the actual limits, and
sufficiently accurate for the present purpose.

[5] One detachment had been left at Fort Gratiot.

[6] 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 following inscription stands:
“_The Thousand Islands_.”

[7] This decision may be found in the Appendix to the second volume,
and the subject treated at large in the text of that volume.

[8] Sassacus was chief of the Pequots; Philip of the Pokanokets--but
sometimes headed the Narragansetts, as allies.

[9] 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.

[10] To show how little the disturbance 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
possible information respecting them--to report the result of his
observations, and to recommend any measures, which might seem to him
desirable to be adopted for the welfare of the Indians.

“The expectation is,” says the Doctor, when preparing his Report, “that
a great part of the Stockbridge Indians, with numbers of the St. Regis
tribe, of the six nations, of the Munsees, Nanticokes, Delawares, and
others, in the course of the next season, 1822, will emigrate and plant
themselves on this purchase (in the North-West Territory, which had
been made pursuant to the Doctor’s recommendation.) Should this take
place, a colony will be formed at once, and a current to it created;
and should 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 _large_ colony,
enough perhaps to form a territory,[11] or a _State_, may be ultimately
collected here, educated together, and received into the Union, and to
the enjoyment of the privileges of citizens.

“Let regulations be made to _prohibit the introduction of white
settlers_ within the limits of this territory--that is: _within limits
bounded south by Illinois, east by Michigan, north by Superior, and
west by the Mississippi. Let this territory be reserved exclusively for
Indians_, in which to make the proposed 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 common 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 the Government of
the United States and the Delaware tribe in 1788:--

Art. 6. “Whereas the enemies of the United States have endeavoured by
every artifice in their power, to possess the Indians in general with
an opinion, that it is the 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 the 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.”

[11] A Territorial Government in America, is substantially _Colonial_.

[12] This letter asserts, that the annual interest of a fund, granted
in the reign of George II. for “Civilizing and Christianizing the
Indians of New England,” amounts to about 40,000_l._--and that it is
not appropriated. It might be interesting to inquire after it.

[13] Indian name of _conference_.

[14] I present this merely as the _substance_ of the impressions left
on my own mind.

[15] It has been before observed in this volume, that the Indian chiefs
under the jurisdiction of the United States, are accustomed to receive
the flag of the Union, a present from Government, in token of their
alliance, which they are generally proud to display.

[16] Major O’Fallon.

[17] The _Braves_ are warriors, who have distinguished themselves in
battle, and stand highest in the estimation of the tribe.


[Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]







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