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THE INDIANS OF THE A /^ NORTH-WEST T E R R I T O R Y, IN 1830: / ^l^.i ' 1" 1 . ..-^1 1 DISCLOSING THL CHARACTER AND PROSPECTS OF TifL: INDIAN' RACE. BY C. COLTON. I N T W O V O L U M E S. Vol. l LONDON: FREDERICK WESTLEY AND A. H. DAVIS, MDCCCXXXIir, 1/ '.^ i ■1; 1 1 LONDON R. CLAY, PKINTER, UKFAD-STRr.F.T- III.'. L CONTENTS OF VOL. I. r ' k ,f ADVERTISEMENT . . ^"*''^^ , ix iNTRODt'CTION xi CHAP. I. 'I'lie Falls of Niagara CHAP. II. Niagara Whirlpool . . '■ 12 CHAP. III. "" AScf' ^'""'^^'^" ''''''' ^-«^ ^-J^- of North 21 CHAP. IV. L'S CHAP. V. a 2 n .1 ti''-i IV CONTENT:^ or VOL. I. CHAT. VI. P.. Ilii^tory of Detroit: — t'arly trading posts; I'oiitiac > conspiracy ; Detroit saved ; I'ontiac's death ; de- scription and beauties of the Territory of Michi::nii . \U CHAR VII. Ileniarkable instance of capital crime IS CHAP. VI II. I^niharkation from Detroit; C'a})tain Symmes's thcor; of the earth ; sail over Lake St. Clair ; interest ot the scene ; delta of the River St. Clair ; relics of Frencli population ; a picture of French and Indians CHAP. IX. River St. Clair; visit to Fort Gratiot; memoranda of Luke Huron : — wild and jjicturesque scenery of its northern regions ; meeting with a canoe, manned by eight Indians with the paddle ; their dexterity and the celerity of their movement; an Indian encamp- ment; their lodges; ihe Indian paddle quicker than steam; the Indian's love of money and whiskey; an Indian salute; and several interesting incident!" of the passage among the islands of the north margin of Huron Vui CHAP. X. Arrival at the Satit de St. Marie ; origin of this name ; the Fills ; an interesting young lady, whose mother was an Indian and her father a Scotchman ; pecu- liar and moral power of Indian languages .... SO CHAP. XI. Voyage from the Saut de St. Marie to CJreen Bay ; the thirty-two thousand is). aids ; the scenery they tONTCNTS OF VOL. I V create ; description of Michilliniackinack ; the stigar- lonf and archfd rock ; arrival at (Jrceii liay in the North-West Territory SS CHAR XII. i'olitical rehitions of the American Indian tribes ; their rights ostensibly, but not really respected ; tiie pre- emption right and its operation ; the original claims of Europeans a ])recedent ; late juridical decision of the American Supreme Court; Cireat Uritain and the United States both reHj)onsible in the treat- ment and for the fate of the Indians U'.'t ( IIAI*. XIII. \'indication of the American Indians from the cliari:e of being Savages ; their domestic atlections kind and amiable; their savage jjassions artificial, kindled by the war-dance, and only for war ; the Indian in war is frantic, and never the aggressor, without a sense of injury; Indian character essentially modified by contact with the Kuropean race l('f> (HAP. XIV. (jradual extinction of the Kastern tribes; the New York tribes advised to remove to the North- West Territory; concurrence of the (ieneral Government in the plan ; parts of the Indians agree to it ; the nature of the understanding; their piu'chase of land and removal ; their expectations ; their disiippoint- ment; supposed scheme for breaking up this new arrangement, and the result of it ; the reastms for this narrative; extracts from the Rev, Dr. Morse's Report to Congress, evincing the views then enter- tained in regard to tins removal of the New York Indians 122 :r CHAP. XV. The design of the Commission of 18.30 to (jreen Piy ; ignorance of Govermnoui: of the state of tlie case; VI CONTENTS OF VOL. I. Page liisfory of the title in dispute and the measures employed to invahdate it IJJ CHAP. XVI. Hurning and massacre of Deerfield in Massachusetts; the infant daughter of the Kev. Mr. Williams snatched from tlie cradle, and carried into captivity; is retained, and marries an Indian Chief; her de- scendants ; the Rev. Eleazer Williams, formerly of the St. Regis, now of the Oneida trihe, one of tlicm ; was brought to New Kn<>land in childhood, and there educated ; Mr. Williams and the Author school-fellows; Mr. Williams engaged in the Ame- rican army during the late war; afterwards ordained to the Christian ministry by Bishop llohart, and established among the Oneidas, near Utica . . l.-il CHAP. XVII. The Rev. Mr. Williams takes the lead in the removal of the New York Indians to Green IJay ; after a long separation, the Author meets him there in IS.'JO; the importance of his public duties in that infant settlement of his people ; ascent of Fox River ; deceitfulness of the Indian canoe ; incidents ; arrival at Mr. Williams's house ; Mr. Williamss de- velopemcnt of his plans ; his disappointment 16; CHAP. XVIII. An account of the Stockbridge tribe, and their settle- ment on Fox River ; the Rev. .lohn Sergeant, the first Christian Missionary to the tribe, from England ; the Oxford Bible (1717) presented by the Rev. Dr. Francis Ayscouth, in 1745; the improvement of these Indians in civilization and the Christian reli- gion ; a Sabbath among them ; their exemplary religious order ; their attachment to their religious teachers ; Sunday school ; their church music and psalmody ; the parish beadle ; their dress and man- ners ; an impromptu-Indian speech : Indian polite- ness; reflections IHo CONTENTS OF VOL. I. Ml CIIAl'. XIX. Vnei The Oneida sottleniont at Duck Creek, uiuler the care of the Rev. Mr. Williams; its Hourishini,' condition ; discouraging prospects of these tribes, and the dis- turbance of their relations with the ancient and wihler tribes of the territory '20,1 CIIAI'. XX. riic manner in which the Commission from Govern- ment summoned the Council ; instructions imposed on the Connnission, and dilHculties created by them ; assemblini? of the Indians, and the setting up of their encampments; modes of dress; a city of Indian lodges; demoralizing influence of these public coiuicils ; drunkenness ; the ruin of a young Indian female 212 CHAP. XXI. Organization and opening of the Council ; the Council- house; singular formalities ; smoking of the pipe ; grotesque appearance of the assemblage; the New York Indians compared with the wild tribes ;• the difierent tribes represented in Council ; modes of intcq)retation ; the chastened oratoi'y of the New York Indians ; John Metoxen (a Stockbridgo chief) ; his last Speech in Council ; Indian shrewd- ness ; oratory of the wild Indians, itself wild, but often powei ful ; piety of the Indians 22(> i '.■1 1 M it • 4 it CHAP. XXII. Charge of Indian aftairs in the War Department ; the course pursued by the New York Indians at the Council, in the vindication of their rights ; the object of the Commission defeated 215 • .As tlie Author has frequently been obliged to employ the distinctive phrase of uild liiditius in tliis work, and li.is inad- vertently omitted to ex])lain it — he would take this opportunity to say, that it indicates those Indians, wljo have not been culti- vated and modified by the iuHucnce of civilization. yi' Vlll (ONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAP. XXIII. Specimens of Indian speeches . Pape 2')2 CH.VR XXIV. rreeniasonry among the Indians; Medicin -dance; the faith of the Indians in its miracnlous otHcacy ; tlie manner of it; it often kills the patient ; the war- importance, thoucfh ind perhaps in matter for aninsenient. Ill a ,i '-i INTRODUCTION. Why should this book be written ? To give information. But was it proper to come through such hands, and to be communicated in sucli circumstances ? As to the first of these questions, the Author happened to have in his possession a portfolio of incidents and observations, recorded by his own hand, during a tour through the wild and romantic regions of the American Lakes, and a visit among several tribes of Indians in the North- West Territory, in 1830. It happened also, that this visit in the North-West gave him aa opportunity of being present at a great and eventful Council, composed of representatives of the chiefs of several Indian nations and a Com- mission from the Government of the United States, the developements of which were some- what extraordinary and extremely interesting. i:?-.i W '•'^S m xn INTRODUCTION. Li! 'I : h The second act of this Council and its concluding scenes, viewed dramatically, were opened at the city of Washington, in the following winter ; of which also the Author was a spectator, and in which were exhibited the entire scope of Indian affairs in America, displaying very conspicuously and impressively their more recent enactments. The interest of these events chained the Author's attention, excited his sympathies for the ancient race of American Aborigines, and induced him to avail himself of all possible means of becoming acquainted with the history of their wrongs. His oj)pcrtunities were abundant. He had never meditated, however, any public use of the ob- servations he had made and of the information he had been able to collect, until a year after his arrival in England ; whon it was suggested to him, in conversation with some friends, that the materials in his possession were in many respects novel and interesting ; and some motives were presented for embodying them in a form to be submitted to the public eye. But the difficult questio-i was: — What the form should be? The maxim of Byron : " Truth is strange, stranger than fiction' — was perhaps never more applicable, than to the principal sub- ject of these pages. The history of the American Indians is the Romance of Fact. It needs not INTRODUCTION. XIU ingre- a single dash of the pencil— not a singK client of the sentimentaUty of poetry, to give it life and power over the feelings. The naked truth has in it more of poetry and a more ener- getic challenge on the affections, than any pos- sible embellishment, or Hctitious garniture, that could be thrown around it — more than any crea- tions of fancy, with which it could be charged. Show that race, as they are and have been, and none of human kind can fail to be interested in them. But there were many reasons, notwithstanding, why, if the Author consented to make any public use of the facts in his possession, he should em- body them un kr a mixed garb of romance and history. And he actually proceeded so far, as to execute one volume under this plan. But after submitting it to other minds, a grave discussion arose, and it was earnestly insisted : — that it should be properly fiction^ or sober hlstorij; — and it was agreed, that the facts were abundantly sufficient to demand the last, and that no fictitious dress could equal the interest of the exact truth. Having resolved upon the historical course exclusively, the delicate situation of the Author^ as an American, came next to be considered. It was impossible for him to do justice to this sub- ject, as it stood before his mind and rested upon i i Ill i XIV INTRODUCTION. his own feelings, without entering somewhat largely into the discussion of the recent policy of his own Government towards the Indians. To suppress the detail, would dilute the whole into insipidity ; to give it, would necessarily involve more or less of disclosure. The principal considerations, which settled the Author's purpose, in regard to the course he has pursued, are here submitted : — 1. The fate of the American Indians, whether they shall exist or be annihilated, has come to a crisis. 2. Their rights are properly the cause of hu- manity, and though well defined in the conscience of the world, are yet undefined and unsettled in the fact and operation of their social and poli- tical relations ; and these rights can only be fixed by a thorough public discussion before the world, which will claim to be arbiter in the case, and which alone, as a community of nations, is likely to be a fair court of appeal. The question of their rights is so prominent and interesting, that the world will sit in judgment upon it ; and the sooner their opinion is formed and expressed, the better. That judgment can hardly be wrong ; and it must also be respected and influential, if it comes in season. Indeed, the very anticipation of it, may possibly answer all the purpose. 1 ii INTRODUCTION. XV 3. The challenge of the attention of the British community to this subject is especially proper, as they are involved in the same responsibility with the United States, by having an ecjual number of Indians, more or less, upon their hands, in their North American colonies ; over whom iheir Co- lonial Governments are compelled to legislate, and whose existence and future amelioration de- pend upon the treatment they shall receive from those authorities. The Indians of the Canadas have no formal guarantee of their distinct rights, which they can assert against being removed at the pleasure of the Colonial Governments ; and whenever the white population crowds upon them, they are subject to the same train of in- juries, which have been suffered in the adjoining States. The Author ventures upon this state- ment rather on the presumption afforded by the actual course of events, than by his knowledge, that formal stipulations, defining a different treat- ment, are actually wanting. If such stipulations exist, the course pursued is doubly aggravating, and no better, so far as can be seen, than in the United States, except that the actual progress of events has not attained so complete a develope- ment. The Author has endeavoured to show, that the salvation of the Tndi. as, as a race, de- pends jointly upon Great Britain and the United 1 1 vi XVI INTRODUCTION. il States ; and inasmuch as the crisis of their des- tiny has evidently arrived, it is deemed proper and obhgatory, that their case, witli the liistory and nature of their wrongs, should be laid with- out disguise before the two communities — unless their doom must be considered as unavoidably forestalled, and themselves abandoned to annihi- lation. While the sympathies of the British nation are being roused — nay, are actually alive and thoroughly challenged in behalf of the hlack slave, it is perhaps the fittest moment to incor- porate with the same feelings the congenial senti- ments of compassion for the red man of America, whose unfortunate destiny hitherto has actually been controlled as much by British influence in former ages, as that of the African slave. If (ireat Britain is responsible for the redemption of 800,000 degraded and enslaved blacks, she is also responsible for a kind treatment and for the social and political elevation of perhaps half that number of a people, whose condition, though nominally more independent, is scarcely less unfortunate ; and whose misfortunes have been induced by the encroachments and political mea- sures of their white neighbours. If the slaves of the British colonies have dwindled in num- bers, and the increase of nature been stifled in INTRODUCTION. XVll the womb, by direct and positive oppression, the American Indians have also dwindled most fearfully by influences, more indirect perhaps, but scarcely less cruel and involving no less of responsibility; and a responsibility, which attaches alike and equally to the Government of Great Britain, as to that of America. As the original sin of African slavery in the west confessedly fastens on the British crown, so the original institution of Indian relations to civilized society in North America was organized and fashioned by the same authority. And as for this reason, it was not unbefitting, that the British crown should be first in the work of redeeming the slave, the door is equally open for British virtue to lend its sy'.npathies and display its energies in behalf of the American Aborigines. It is time at least ihat an e: pression of public senti- ment should be given on this great question of philanthropy. If it is true, that now is the time to redeem the slave ; it is no less true, that nou) is the time to save the American Indian. And inasmuch, as t)ie British public have a duty incumbent upon them in this matter, in common with the Americans, it has been thought pertinent by the Author to lay this subject before them ; although from the necessity of his task, his strictures on the unjust treatment of the Indians \H f' m fc- XVlll INTRODUCTION. I 1 have been principally confined to the Govern- ment of his own country. 4. Inasmuch as the recent measures of the American Government, in relation to the Indians, are before the world, and must necessarily make their impression, the Author has considered that a substantial history of the case in its principal details, and an exposure of the great moral causes, which have induced this state of things, would rather be a relief, than a cloud over the reputation of his country in this particular. Nothing could possibly be more unfavourable, than the impression of the grand fact unex- plained; and that could never be repressed, or in any way concealed. The reader, who shall be sufficiently interested to go over these pages, will find here and there the historical and moral rationale of this great question and its results ; by which it will appear, that the denouement stands related to influences, most of them re- mote and controlling, which do not at all affect the character of the institutions of the country, and which no more determine the disposition of the people. A sentiment is indeed expressed in a docu- ment of the Appendix from the Governor of Georgia, that the recent election of the officers of the General Government has not only approved INTRODUCTION. XIX the policy of removing the Indians, but sanc- tioned the course of Georgia towards the Che- rokees. That justification, however, is to be regarded merely as convenient in the circum- stances, and not as containing valid reasons. It might be and no doubt is true, that in the recent election, the dominant party of the Union were blinded by their leaders on the Indian Question ,- but it is not true, that the sober voice of the nation, enlightened by the facts and merits of the case, has ever been expressed. There has neither been opportunity for them to be informed, nor time for them to act, upon it. The result of the election was owing entirely to other and great questions. If the Indian question were the only one to influence the public mind in a general election, and the people could have opportunity to be fairly and fully enlightened, the Author does not believe that one voice in ten thousand would sustain the more violent measures, which have recently been pursued, and which he in conscience has been obliged to disapprove. The Author has considered it suitable and due to the cause of truth, that the world should understand, that the American people, as a body, would never sanction this course of treat- ment of the Indians, which is here assumed as ,'4 1 < I i. m I I ■\\ ■'* ' 'I I XX INTRODUCTION. ! 1 injurious ; tliat, being taken by surprise, it was impossible for a whole people, embarrassed by other and all-absorbing cjuestions, to apply an immediate remedy ; that so far as they have been informed, they have already expressed their strongest sympathy ; that nothing could remon- strate more loudly, or speak more eloquently, than the demonstrations of public feeling, already made ; that the people have been compelled to wait for a decision of the Supreme Judiciary of the nation, and for the operation of that decision; and that the general election was controlled by other questions, before the people could possibly be enlightened on this. And now that that decision has been obtained, it is producing its proper influence, as the standard of public opinion. While the Author has wished and tried to declare himself prudently, he has deemed it proper to do it decidedly. The injuries done to the Indians he has considered of a nature not to be parleyed with, and for which no apology can be made. He has considered, that a frank exposure and a full confession of the wrong would be more honourable to his country, than any attempts at concealment; that the wound inflicted on the nation's reputation cannot be aggravated by such a course ; that the proofs of IMRODICTION. XXJ the susceptibilities of the pc()j)le to synipatliize in tliese wrongs and to repair them, so far a^ possible, are shewn partly in their readiness t«> confess them ; that the public opinion of the world, seasonably expressed, or anticipated, must necessarily be no unimportant ingredient in the measure of redeeming iuHuences ; and that the best friends of the nation and of c.e Indians ought not to be identified with the few, who have happened, in the course of events, to obtain a controlling influence, though it is believed transiently, over the whole atfair. The decision of the Supreme Court may fairly be taken, as an expression of the will of the people, when it can be legitimately developed. For these and such reasons the Author has considered it proper to exhibit enough of detail to lay open the general subject historically, and to express his own opinion without reserve. ! M %m •ank •ong than •und be of The Author thinks it due to himself to observe, that he has never been connected, nor in any way personally interested, in either of the great political parties of his country; nor is he con- scious of being influenced by party feeling in the production of this work. He sympathizes generally with the principles, on which his own Government is administered, and cherishes a a XXll INTRODUCTION. ;. 1 ■ respect for the men at its head. But on the Indian question he is conscientiously and toto coclo at variance with their views. And it is because he loves the institutions of his country and wishes to see the national constitution and public treaties preserved inviolate ; and because, from personal observation and knowledge, he has been obliged to feel a deep sympathy for the Indians, in view of what he esteems en- croachment on their rights — that he has under- taken the task embodied in these pages, and endeavoured to separate between Indian wrongs and the legitimate operation of the Government. And so long as he finds himself in company with the Supreme Court of the nation, he will at ..east feel himself well sustained. It is not improbable, that the reader may feel, that too much of the second volume is occupied in discussion, and in the refutation of certain doctrines and statements there encountered from the North American Review. The Author, wish- ing to avoid personality as much as possible, has omitted to bring out the authority of that article. It may be proper, however, here to mention, that it originated from a high source in the Govern- ment — a source now at the head of Indian affairs — and may fairly be taken as the creed of INTRODUCTION. XXIII and principles, by wliich those aflairs are at present governed. This fact may perhaps be a sufficient apology for giving the argument so extended a consideration. And while the Author has felt obliged to treat some of the doctrines there ad- vanced with severity, lie most cheerfully expresses his high consideration for the personal character of his adversary, and for his public official career, in all that does not respect the use and applica- tion of the principles here contested. In that matter the Author must stand at variance, from a full conviction, not only of the Indian's suscep- tibility of being raised, in intellectual, moral, and civil improvements, to command an equal respect with any other race of men— but also from a no less decided conviction of the Indian's unqualified and just demand to be admitted to an equality of social and political rights ; — and more especially, that the Indian should realize the full benefit of all the public engagements, that have been made in his favour and for the attainment of these objects. 4 As one of the moral causes, which have operated in the United States to the detriment of Indian rights, the Author has felt obliged, from his own convictions, to specify the para- mount influence of slavery. It is well known, U I XXIV INTRODUCTION that ancient impulses of a vicious tendency, iii the constitution of human society, will often continue to operate disastrously, even after they have been checked by the incipient stages of reformation. Such is emphatically the case with slavery. It is undoubtedly true, that the Ameri- can Colonization Society has begun to shed a most benign influenca on the slavery of that country. It has forced into public and universal discussion a question, which the National Legis- lature, by the constitution of the Government, could never touch — inasmuch as every several State is left by that instrument, as sovereign and independent, in regard to all State prerogatives, not surrendered in the Federal compact, as any foreion nations are in relation to each other. But the Colonization Society has commenced a career of extended and rap'dly increasing in- fluence, which has already affected essentially and radically the moral elements of society in the Southern and Slave States, in relation to slavery. And notwithstanding, that the influence of ancient impulses of this vicious character has doubtless operated lo the violation of Indian rights — it is no less true, that a slavery reforma- tion has ah'eady commenced and extensively in- fused its leaven throughout the niass of the Slave States, by the instrumentality of the above- INTRODUCTION. XXV ', in named instifntion. While, therefore, the one agency is St^ied, as the result of remote in- fluences, for the time being uncontrolled in this, as wel) as in other directions, it is not to be considered as impossible with the contemporane- ous existence and increasing influence of the other. The former may have and doubtless has produced the eflfect ascribed to it, while the latter is gaining an ascendency, which at a later period would entirely have prevented this ^^eplorable issue. > 4 ni- ially in to nee has ian ma- in- The Author has been aware, that these volumes will aflTord some additional elements for those strictures and censures on the Ameri- can Republic, which have been so liberally and customarily rendered by a portion of the British press. And while much has often been made of little and much out of nothing, these, it must be confessed, are not altogether unsubstantial materials for the gratification of such feelings While the Author has undertaken in another place, as may possibly be known to some extent, to rebuke a disposition to find fault where there was no reason for it, he will perhaps have proved in this instance, that he would not cover a real sin even in his own house, when the rights of communities and the cause of humanity demand VOL. I. h m XXVI INTRODUCTION. % I I . I i'l a developement. Those whom these disclosures may gratify, are freely offered all which they afford ; while the discriminating and the fair will doubtless view and present the case, as it is, it they shall be disposed to notice \t at all : — they will not tax the institutions of the country, nor the disposition of the people, as a body, with the iniquity — while it may still be fairly main- tained, that the nation is responsible and bound before the world and heaven to make atonement. It does not well become one nation to be accusing another of oppressions and violence, merely for the i.ke of elevating itself by com- parison, when both, in the present imperfect state and imperfect operation of their institutions, have their faults of this description. Better, th.at the common cause of freedom and humanity should be made a common interest among the advocates of right throughout the world, that any case of the violation of right might be widely and freely exposed, and universally reprobated. Certainly, in the matter constituting a prominent subject of these pages. Great Britain and America are too deeply involved to furnish a warrant for crimination on either side. The community of nations is rapidly assuming a character like a community of individuals; and for the same reasons, that the latter have a P"!; INTRODUCTION. XXV 11 common right in determining the social relations and defining the modes of intercourse, the former should openly and freely discuss and socially determine their relations. As every mep^ber ot a community of individuals may rightfully have a voice in all the regulations enacted for the com- mon good — so every member of the com.uunity of nations is interested in the code of interna- tional lavVj and may fliirly claim its right in the discussion and settlement of fundamental prin- ciples ; — and since, when any member of the minor community is injured, it is a proper subject of public alarm and investigation, so when the rights of any nation, or tribe, are violated, it makes a legitimate ground for a common adjudi- cation, at least for the interchange and expression of opinion, and the employment of influence. We have high authority for the saying : " When one member suffers, all the members suffer with it ;" they ought certainly to sympathize. I •; i nng land re a It will be observed, that the scene of the first volume is laid on the American Lakes and in the North- West Territory. The latter is a civil division of the American jurisdiction, lying on the upper waters of the Mississippi river and the shores of Lakes Superior and Michigan, and not on the Pacific Ocean, as is sometimes, and 1 ' * * lii XXVlll INTRODUCTION. in foreign parts perhaps more commonly, under- stood by this name. The Author feels obliged to say, that, not having anticipated the execution of this task, before he came to England, he has found himself wanting in many important documents, which would have been a material improvement of the Work, and rendered it far more complete. The Indian speeches delivered at the council of Green Bay, once in his possession and taken down by his own hand, were left behind. To supply this defect, he has taken the liberty of constructing a few specimens, as nearly after the manner of the Indians, as his impressions and recollections would enable him to do. And while it is due to historical verity to make this acknowledgment, the Author may perhaps be permitted to say, without a breach of modesty, that having once made a copy of all those transactions at the time and as they occurred, together with the speeches that were delivered by the Indians, and having been long in habits of intimate intercourse with them, in public and private, he ought to be qualified to do them something like justice in such ". trifling attempt. He may also add, that having on various occasions complied with the requests of the Indians to assist them in their communica- INTRODUCTION. XXIX tions with the official agents of Government, he necessarily became acquainted with their peculia- rities of thought, and feeling, and modes of speech. One of their chiefs paid the Author the following coirpliment to the point in question, at the city of Washington, on the occasion of soliciting him to draw up an address to the Senate of the United States in their behalf: " You talk our talk better than we can talk it for ourselves." This, however, merely to shew, that the author has had some custom in speaking for them. The examples given in the chapter above alluded to, are offered, as things like what they stand for ; and the Author is confident, that the likeness would be acknowledged even by the Indians themselves. At the same time, that they support the Indian argument, (the one ascribed to the Winnebago-Chief only excepted, which is a pure invention to exemplify the wild incoherency, which sometimes characterizes savage oratory,) they are also intended as specimens of that simplicity of thought and reasoning, which the Indians are accustomed to demonstrate. The civilized Indians of the New York tribes at Green Bay reason quite as well, as the Author has represented. The other specimens of Indian speeches, the Author is not responsible for. They are 1'! !i!i; i ■'!'■ Ilii XXX INTRODUCTION. extracts from authorities, to which they are ascribed. As the Rev. Mr. WilHams, of the Oneida tribe, occupies a conspicuous place in this work, the Author begs leave to say, that soiT.e very trivia) errors may possibly occur in the notices taken of him, — but not material. The conversations and remarks ascribed to Mr. Williams, and in one place an extended part of a colloquy witli the Author, in which he appears as the principal speaker, are a compressed and comprehensive statement of the substance of numerous commu- nications, reduced principally from recollection. The Author would not, therefore, make Mr. Williams responsible for every expression, that may be found in these conversations, as coming from him. All the Author can pretend is, that he has endeavoured faithfully to transcribe the copy afforded by his memory, in the selections made. The exact original forms of communica- tion could not of course be expected. It is possible also, that some other of the historical and narrative portions of the first volume may not have made exactly the same impressions on the minds of other witnesses, as are recorded by the Author. He does not think, however, that these differences could be numerous, or in any degree important. INTRODUCTION. XXXI .►•i' ^1 are the tlie first same |s, as not II be It will doubtless seem remarkable, that Indian wrongs in America could have proceeded so far without more public remonstrance and without the application of a remedy. But it may easily be seen, that a civilized and powerful govern- ment, having come in contact and formed perma- nent relations with barbarous, or semi-barbarous, and consequently inferior, and in some respects, dependent tribes, may have practised, or suffered to be practised, long continued and petty oppres- sions, necessarily vexatious and destructive to the subjects, before they have come to the notice of the world, so as to shock essentially the moral sense of mankind. Where have such relations existed without these results ? Suppose the book of history, detailing things of this kind, that have occurred in the East Indies for ages past, were open to the world ? The little that has transpired may be enough to suggest what remains untold. It is only when acts of injustice, or of cruelty, more atrocious, occur, that the attention and sympathies of mankind are roused. Besides, injustice is more apparent when the temper of the age is mild, and the state of the world comparatively quiet. The better part of mankind can see it more distinctly, and a better opportunity is given to expose it. Injustice, when estimated by the proper rule, is always the .H XXXll INTRODUCTION. same. But it is not always the same thing in men's minds. That which would have been a trifle in one age, or in one part of the world, may be an enormity in another. It was not till recently, within four to six years — more especially within four — that the more flagrant acts of injustice toward the Ame- rican Indians, have challenged public attention. And, as has been before remarked, it has not been possible, 'vvithin this period and in existing circumstances, to bring in a remedy. The cur- rent of mischief was too wide and deep and strong to be arrested, or turned in a day. London, Jiofo, 1833. A TOUR, &c. ^f CHAPTER I. THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. Who has not heard of Niagara Falls ? And he who has been there, if he possesses ought of a relish for the grand and awful, if he can admire the way and love the voice of God, will never lose the impressions of the scene. The mountain has its majestic forms. But its eloquence, though im- pressive, is silent, except when the storm begins to move upon its head, and roar along its sides, and brush its everlasting crags, and bellow over the mouths of its caverns ; or when the ava- lanche comes thunderir^f from its brow to wor- ship at its feet ; and he who happens to be there VOL. I. B % Hi ^1 M ! I K 2 TFE FALLS OF NIAGARA. .i,» perchance shall never come away. The wilder- ness has its romantic and unexplored solitudes, and the desert its interminable wastes, or its burniiif,^ sirocco ; but there is no comfort to exempt the mind from external annoyances. The ocean, tempest-tossed, prepares in the deep a watery shroud for the body by the same hand, with which it proffers a festival of sublimity to the soul. With him who has gone safely through, the very contingencies of his passage may indeed augment the power and add intensity to the character of his emotions, while hanging in retrospect over the recollectic ns of his peril. Still there was peril — and with peril there is pain. But not so in the peaceful retreat of Niagara's eternal cataract. There the mind may rest from anxiety. The spectator may sit, and see, and hear, and never grow weary of the scene. He may change his position. He may walk along the banks of the majestic current, from the entrance of Chippewa's dark waters, following its course, and witnessing how the flood begins to make haste. He may see the glassy surface beginning to be disturbed by the increased rapi- dity ; and now the vast volume leaping a shelf, and showing the form of an ocean wave ; and now leaping another shelf, and another, and yet THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. 3 another, until tlie mighty torrent, descending a steep decHvity, bounds over its broken and craggy bed, itself as yet unbroken, so deep and measure- less the flood. Then he marks the earnestness, the very passion of its career, as if it were glad to burst at once from its confinements above, and eager to plunge into the abyss below. He who has seen the troubled ocean after a storm, has only to imagine those heaving billows de- scending a mountain side, himself looking up from below on their downward course, and it is the very picture presented from the table rock of Niagara, as the spectator, turning his back on the chasm, with the cataract immediately on his left, faces the descending torrent, and lifts his eye on the mountain declivity of ''aters, which comes leaping, and rolling, and tumbling, as if from the clouds, or the azure heavens which peer above the tops of the waves. And this only a preparation for the fall — a collection and multiplication of forces for the stupendous leap. Next the enrapt beholder turns his eye upon the curvilinear margin of the awful shelf; he bends to look downward from his giddy elevation, and there an ocean of waters, which he had just seen rushing with most alarming impetuosity from above, now plunges into the abyss, as if to drive asunder the base of the hills. B 2 >, 1 Tlir lAIJ.S OF NrAr;ARA. ( ' ;. .;' i The firm rock, on wliicli he stands, sliuddors — himself slmdders, wliiie tlie roar, and tumult, and tempest of the chasm send up their thunders to his ear, and drive the currents of their watery mist like the. whirlwind in their windinfjs and fitful moods, and with all the force of the tornado. He may descend, if he will, (and he must be alike wanting; in courafje and taste if he declines) to the level which these waters have formed by their daring leap. There, housed beneath the impending and lofty crag, itself jutting far out over the ])osom of the deep, as if curious to witness more and all of the scene, himself may look ttjj on that which just now, bending from above, lie had looked down upon. And now he has before him nought but the mighty cataract, like an ocean, spilling itself in one vast sheet from those regions of the heavens, where the highest start ^ve seen at night, and where the summer's sun walks in his strength at mid-day. And let him not fear the whirling eddies of the suspended waters, thrown out from the thickest of the tumult, and dashing upon him now their softer mists, and now their sheets of a driving storm. He should brave all this, and more, if he would see what every brave man should see, He must take the hand of a Tin: lALLL, or M.U.AUA. in at competent «,'uicle, and make liis circuit over the broken tra > "1 '1 Ij 6 THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. i^: !.i that it was a rare and enviable privilege. Who can well imagine the wild commotion and deaf- ening uproar of the scene ? The loudest piping of the ocean blast, and the fiercest march of its mountain wave, are a mere lullaby song to the thunder of this encounter. The visitor will not fail to cross to the American side, as it is called, — as though Canada were not in America. And this vice is well enough under- stood here, where it originated — or rather the compliment done to the United States and her citizens, by making them the representatives of the entire continent, and alluding to them, as if they were its sole lords and occupants. Are the United States so important, as to be entitled to this high distinction of standing for America^ and that Americans should every where be the synonyme of citizens of that republic ? What accident has given so small a portion of that world such a prominence ? The notices we have already taken of Niagara Falls have been from the Canada side, which are altogether most interesting, and the views most sublime. For a relief of the almost pain- ful emotions, by which the mind of the be- holder has been exercised, — at one time excited in admiration, now rapt in ecstacy, and now over- whelmed by the mingled effect of grandeur and 1 THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. in tumult and fury, — let him throw himself into a small boat on the bosom of Niagara, directly under the Falls, where, conscious of safety, though tossed like a feather in the fitful wind by the boilings of that unfathomable linn, or basin, where the waters, which a moment before sprung in such mighty volume from the brow of yonder precipice, now heave and roll and break in eddies of fearful aspect, as if to give expression to their pain and agony, or vent to the joy of their escape ; — on such a sea of foam, where the last breath of the conflict is evidently spent, and the agitated element labouring to be composed, he may rest and float secure, and look at the base, and look midway, and lift his eye to the summit of that unceasing, never-dying cataract. He may esti- mate its superficial dimensions, he may imagine its depth, and wonder still at its roar and tumult. From the same position he may turn his eye to 'he left of Goat Island, on the American side, and witness a still more lofty cataract, but more modest, not yet presuming to assert such pro- found pretensions, descending in a silvery sheet, as if from an artificial shelf, connecting the island with the shore ; and dashing on the rocks below, displays a vast bed of fleecy whiteness, like a storm of the thii'kest and purest snow, reflected by the sun. »i : I *l > I 8 THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. At the head of the rapids, about one mile from the Falls in direct line, but from two to three miles by the line of the Canada shore, the river is divided by the island above named, turning, perhaps, one-tenth of the current to the American side. This smaller portion would be a great river by itself — and the channel through which it descends, and the final plunge of its waters, are in many respects more romantic, though less grand and awful, than the course and fall of the principal torrent. The shelf of the cataract on the American side is to the eye and in fact higher than the point of the Horse S/ioe, as it is called, where is the greatest depth and force of the river, as it leaps from the precipice. This single feature of superior elevation gives advantage to the American side, and in this particular it stands invested in a more majestic form. But the deep, and comparatively unperturbed current descend- from the Horse Shoe, suggests the vastness of its volume, imparts to it the highest considera- tion, and chains the mind with the intensest interest. By the noble enterprise of a wealthy indivi- dual. Judge Porter, a bridge has been thrown across from the American shore to Goat Island, directly over the most impetuous current of the rapids, and but a few rods above the fall — an THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. 9 almost incredible achievement of human art, and of human power over natural obstacles. To facihtate the undertaking, there happened to be the natural abutment of an islet midway the channel, saving the necessity of more than two or three additional ones, which were sunk and secured at great expense and difficulty. By this means, this heretofore inaccessil)le island, covered with wood, a most beautiful and romantic retreat, has been opened to free and easy access ; and one of the most advantageous views of the Falls is to be gained from its brow, hanging between the two cataracts. The passage across this bridge is somewhat frightful, from the rapi- dity of the current, and the startling thought of hanging suspended over a torrent, so fiercely dashing onward, to leap the next moment from such a giddy height. The mind at once begins to calculate the chances of some accident to the bridge. The bare possibility of the sudden slide of a pier, over which you stand, from the face of the rock, on w^hich it rests, and the inevitable consequence, shocks the feelings with the shuddering seubation of horror ; and the hastened step of the passenger will sufficiently indicate the involuntary impulse by which he has been overtaken. No one, however, should deny himself the gratification of visiting the B ;3 « < -i ■ 1 f !*■ ,i •h' ■ 10 THE FALLS OF NL\GARA. island. It is like as if a bridge had been made to the moon, once as unexpected, and deemed ahke impossible. The views and aspects of this great wonder of nature are susceptible of almost infinite change by thp change of position : and there it is, the same great work of God for ever and for ever, in constant life and motion. There is no curtain to hide the exhibition — there is no machinery in it, the wires of which are subject to human con- trol. Its fountains are never dried, its torrents are never, like other tloods, increased or dimi- nished. There it is, the same for ever and for ever. Notwithstanding a world of waters have fallen this hour, a world of waters shall fall the next hour. To-morrow shall be as this day, and a century to come as a century past. The lover of nature's magnificence and nature's beau- ties may wander there without fear of satiety — with ever growing and yet a keener appetite. He may choose his bed on the brow of the chasm, and near the fearful plunge, so that the walls of his habitation, and the couch on which he reposes, shall sympathise with the ceaseless vibrations of the earth and rocks, and himself literally be rocked to sleep by the hand and music of the mighty waters. In his half- waking moments he shall know, because he will THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. 11 feel, that he is there. In the visions of his deepest slumbers, still shaken by the concussions of all nature around, he shall be admonished, that he is there. Of that which he saw by day he shall dream by night — and he shall see it even then in forms of as much greater magnifi- cence, and of as much more attractive beauties, or diessed in a wildness as much more amazing, as dreams are more remarkable, than the sober thoughts of a wakeful hour. He may rise in the morning, and visit the scene with ever fresh delight ; and at noon, and when the sun declines, and by the light of the moon, or under the stars alone, or when the tempest scowls at midnight hour, and mingles its thunders with the thunders of the abyss in rival effort, and lays the broad sheets of its fire on the foam of the waters : and he will never say — it is enough. 4 1 ,1 ' i 7i 1 i r m ■!1 CHAPTER IT. THE WHIRLPOOL. From Niagara Falls, long familiar with their various features, as above described, the author of these pages took it in his head to make a dis- tant excursion, in the summer of 1830, into the wild regions of the JNorth West, tenanted prin- cipally by savages, as they are commonly called, but more reverently by the aboriginal inhabi- tants of North America. The method selected of getting there was by the Lakes, and the point of embarkation, Buffalo. It is proper, perhaps, for the information of the British reader, to describe, briefly, the map and geographical relations of this region. There are probably few who have looked upon the map of North America, ihat have not had the curiosity to ascertain the situation of Niagara Falls. And they have found them upon that current, which connects Lake Ontario with Lake Erie, called THE WHIRLPOOL. 13 Niagara river, and in length about thirty miles — it being one of the channels in connexion, l)y which the waters of that vast and notorious chain of inland seas, in North America, are disembogued into the gulf of St. Lawrence, and thence into the Atlantic. The Falls are distant ten miles from the southern margin of Lake Ontario, and twenty miles from the foot of Lake Erie, and four miles south of Queenston and Lewiston heights, the latter constituting the elevation, or brow above Lake Ontario, down which the waters of Lake Erie must plunge in their way to the ocean. And the deep chasm between the falls and the heights, occupied by the river after its fall, fear miles in length, before tlie agitated current finds a breathing place in the open plains below, and prepares itself to glide placidly into the lake, is supposed by geologists to have been formed by the wear and tear of this tremendous cataract, for a suc- cession of ages not to be counted. For the geologist, especially if he be a Frenchman, does not deem himself oblijred to regard the world's history, as suggested by the scriptural account of the Deluge, and of the antediluvian periods. Doubtless, if the wear of this chasm is to be estimated by its progress since known to the present civilized world, and according to this .« ft 'I 14 Tin: WHIRLPOOL. 11 theory, it will be quite necessary to resort to some such authority as the Chinese historical records, or to the theory of a philosopher's brain, to solve this geological problem.* It may not be uninteresting, however, before we enter more extensively into our geographical lesson, that a moment here should be occupied in allusion to a A^'hirlpool, which is to be found in this part of Niagara river, a little more than half way from the Falls to Queenston, and which of its kind is not less remarkable than the Falls themselves. At this point, the river, in its com- pressed, deep, and rapid career, makes a sudden turn, or sharp angle, the effect of which has been to wear out and form a basin of considerable extent in a precipitous bank two hundred feet high, in which the waters of the river, as they come rushing from above, take a sweep before they can escape by the angle, which interrupts the channel, and find their passage in a down- ward course : — by which it will be seen, that a plural number of currents at this point must necessarily cross each other between the surface • It is interesting to remark, that M. Cuvier, before he died, had consented to take the chair at the next anniversary of the Paris Bible Society, and to exhibit the proofs of agree- ment between geological observations and the Mosaic account ot the Creation and Deluge THE WHIRLPOOL. \5 and the bed of the river, in the formation of this remarkable phenomenon. It uniformly hap- pens, in the great variety of floating materials, descending the river, such as logs and lumber of various sorts, that portions of it are detained for days, and sometimes for weeks, sweeping the circuit of this basin, and every few moments returning by the dv ' of the whirlpool, and as they approach the . ortex, are drawn in with great rapidity, and submerged to descend no one knows how deep, until by-and-by, following the cur- rents, they appear again on the surface of the basin, to make the same circuit, and again to be drawn into the same vortex. It has sometimes happened, that the bodies of persons who have had the misfortune to get into the rapids above the Falls, and to be drawn down the awful cataract, or who have been drowned between the two points, after the usual process of decomposition has lightened their specific gravity, and raised them to the surface, have been seen for days floating around this whirlpool, and making the customary and successive plunges, to which every thing, that comes within its reach, is doomed without the possibility of rescue. It also happened, during the last war between the United States and Great Britain, (may there never be another contest so unnatural) that a r I ■'tl HI 'li I'V/I 16 THE WHIKLrOOL. I * ii British soldier upon a raft of palisades, which had been cut on the margin of this basin for the fortifications at Queenston, v.as sent adrift into this whirlpool by the parting? of ;i rope connected with the shore, in the attempt to float the raft out of the basin into the river below. The force of the currents not being duly estimated, as the raft approached the vortex, drawn by the hands of other soldiers on shore, and claiming a passage at what was deemed a prudent distance, the too feeble cord snapped asunder to the amazement and horror, not only of the unfortunate man afloat, but equally of his comrades, who were compelled, without any means or hope of ex- tending relief, to witness the unhappy fate of the devoted victim. In a moment the raft was seen careering with increased rapidity towards the visible and open centre of the whirling waters, where its immediate and total wreck was justly deemed inevitable; and down it went, and the man upon it, with " convulsive splash," and now nothing was seen. The spectators shrieked in sympathy. A soldier has his fellow feeling. For he is a man. Had their comrade fallen in battle, they might have trampled on his carcass in the onset of a charge, in disregard of his sufterings. And when they should come to bury him, they might say : " Thou hast died nobly." Bat that i ■:■'. i.: ? THE WIIIRLrOOL. 17 he sliould be tims unexpectedly and fearfully swallowed up by the flood, their nerves were ill prepared for the shock. He was gone, and with his disapi)earance disappeared all hope. But what was their surprise, while, with vacant stare and every feeling astcnnuled, their feet fixed imnioveably to the earth, they gazed upon the scene, the raft entire, and their comrade clinging to it, suddenly shot up on the surface of the water., and seemed to be floating back to their embrace. " Well done ! bravo !" they cried, rending the pent up region with their gratulations, and clai)ping their hands anil leaping for joy. Alas ! instead of making towards the shore, or coming within reach of the throw of a line, (for every one was now in stretch of all his powers to afford relief, and the unfortunate man crying for help,) the raft was borne irresistibly along the current before described, and in a few moments began again its rapid sweep towards the vortex. Again the men on shore were thrilled with horror in expectancy of the fate of their companion — and he, smiting his breast in despair, fell upon his knees, lifting his face to- wards heaven, and seemed to be making his last commendations of himself to the mercy of God, and the next moment down again he plunged, and was swallowed up in the deep. His ■'•1 18 THE WHIRLPOOL. !lf comrades stood still, and «,razed upon the vacant waters, awaiting in breathless anxiety the emer- gence of the severed fragments of the raft. For, notwithstanding it had been firmly bound together to conflict with the violent forces of the passage, there was little reason to expect that it would sustain unbroken the second shock of such encounter, as that to which it was now doomed ; much less, that their luckless comrade would appear again adhering to its parts. Neverthe- less, to their unspeakable joy, the raft and the man emerged as before. The welcome of this second preservation for a moment rekindled hope, and suggested every possible expedient to ac- complish a connexion between the shore and the raft. But all in vain. The unfortunate man, in the agony of his despair, supplicated their aid. But what could they do ? Again, the raft and its yet living tenant were on their wheelin ; and rapid circuit towards the fearful vortex. Again he fell upon his knees — and again plunged into the deep, and disappeared. Who now could hope in such a case ? — Even if he should emerge again, it would only be to make the same round, and fall again into the power of the same merci- less and insatiate appetite. Yet he did emerge, and ba ' ^ farewell to his comrades, and they bade farewell to him: *' God bless you!" said he. THE WIIIRLrOOL. 19 (( 'J le God have mercy on you !" said tlicy, in broken accents. ** God liave mercy on me I' lie cried — and again he disappeared in the whirl of the waters. The story is too })ainfLd. How much more so — how indescribably agonizing, even to the soldier inured to the sight of death, to have wit- nessed the scene ! This was a new, an unknown form of death. It was death inflicted, and life brought back, only to die again, and again to live to face death again — and yet again. How dreadful to those who saw ! How much more dreadful to the sutferer ! For them to see him, and not to be able to help him — for him to approach and face the aspects of that doom for once — we will not undertake to say what it was. To have once experienced all its horrors, and then to be brought again before it, and to be compelled to taste it in such quick and rapid succession, and each repetition being more hor- rible by the experimental knowledge of what it is — who can conceive of it! The Norwegian maelstrom is awful to think of. But the s'lip, that is drawn into it, returns no more. Suppose the current of some boiling eddy should bring her to the surface of the sea again, and her crew breathe again, only to face the same horrors a second time — and a third ! Would they not ^11^ tm *ii '4 3 1 I 20 THE WHIRLPOOL. say : '^ O God, forl)id the repetition, since we cannot live."' Such was the condition of our ill- fated victim of Niagara's Whirlpool. Death took him into his embrace, inflicted on him all its pangs, and then threw liim back, as if in ven- geance, only to draw one breath of life ; and then grasped and tortured him again, then threw him back to life ; and then stretched forth his hand, and seized him again. And at every approach. Death seemed to say : Behold, how terrible 1 am ! Did he rise again ? — Aye, he did. And if the story may be believed, the rati and the man continued this perpetual round, until the intelli- gence was conveyed to Queenston, some three miles below, and a boat drawn out of the river, and transported on wheels, and launched from the lofty bank of two hundred feet, down through the trees upon the basin, and the man was taken off to serve yet longer, and fight the battles of his king. And foi aught that is known by us, he is still in his regiment. Scores of times he faced the frowning terrors of the scene, — made the deep plunge as many times, — took breath at every interval — and was saved at last.* * This story is constructed from information obtained upon the spot, and is in sul).stance true. If.. CHAPTER III. 3 ■*!| GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA. Lake Ontario, it should be understood, is the last in the chain of those fresh water seas, on the bosoms of which tlie Author proposed to make his excursion into the North-West Territory. This ake lies betw^ni the British province of Upper Canada on the north, and tlie state of New York on the south, being about two hundred miles in its length, east and west, and some fifty or sixty in its greatest breadth. It is a scene of active commerce ; floats a great deal of shipping ; steam -packets of the largest burtlicn, and of the best accommodations, are constantly plying upon it ; and the flags of hostile navies have waved over its bosom, and challenged and sought the flerce encounter. The keel of n ship of war, said at the time to hv the largest in the world, was laid at Sacket's Harbour, in the state of New hti >v. . Mi 'S^ 'd 22 GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA. York, in the year 1814, and some progress made in the building of it, before the news of peace in February following. May it rot under the roof which now covers it, before there shall ever be occasion for its launching ! The outlet of Lake Ontario is the beginning of the river St. Lawrence; and a little below are the famous rapids of that magnificent current, which make the scene of the Canadian Boat-song. Lake Erie lies south-west of Lake Ontario, its eastern termination being at Buffalo, and run- ning in a south-westerly course two hundred and fifty miles, in breadth seventy miles j having fho most desirable agricultural regions of Upper Canada in the north, and parts of the states of New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio, on the south. This is also a sea of busy commerce ; and a memorable naval action has once beefi contested on its waters : the result of which crowned the American Commodore Perry with distinguished honours. While Britannia claims the pride of ruling the ocean, America may, per- haps, with modesty, assert suprem.acy on her own fresh-water ceas. Better, however, that all comparisons of this kind should be few and far between. The cultivation of the kinder feelings is as much more agreeable, as it is more dig- nified. ii GREAT LAKES OF IsOIlTII AMERICA. 23 The next in the ascending chain is Lake St. Chiii, thirty miles in diameter, lying ahout half-way between Lake Erie on the south, and Lake Huron on the north, connected with the former by the river Detroit, and with the latter by the river bearing its own name, each current measuring a channel of some thirty miles in length. Lake Huron is a great inland sea, of so many shapes, as to have no shape at all definable. From its outlet, into the river St. Clair on the south, to its head, into the Straits of Michilimackinack, in the north-west, is perhaps three hundred and fifty miles. Its greatest breadth is probably about two hundred and fifty. It opens a vast sea for the safe navigation of shipping of any burthen, besides affording a lodging place for a world of islands in its north- ern regions, some larger and some smaller — and most romantically situated in their relations to each other — amounting in all to the number of thirty -two thousand. The innumerable bays and straits created by this cluster, most of them navigable for almost any kind of craft, together with the islands themselves, covered with forests, and shooting up the most perfect form of the pointed fir-tree, must pi»^sent a rare vision to him who shall ever have the privilege of sailing over them in a baloon. J' ? % *' Ill 24 GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA. I i' I',' it I ;ii Lake Michigan is a beautiful sea, lying in the form of a calf's tongue, except the single deformity of Green Bay, an arm of ninety miles in length, and thirty to forty broad, running oft' from its west shoulder like a lobster's claw ; the bay itself being of many and ugly shapes. Aside from this, Lake Michigan is regular in its form, an open and navigable sea, running from the straits ' of Michillimackinack on the north, (or, to save trouble, we will henceforth say Mackinaiv^ as the vulgar do), towards the south west about three hundred and fifty miles, its greatest and central breadth one hundred and fifty.* But the Queen of fresh-water seas, all the world over, is Lake Superior, most fitly named for its magnificent dimensions and relative im- portance. Its length, from east to west, is seven hundred miles, and its greatest breadth, per- haps, three hundred. It is generally an open sea, and navigable to all its extremities, with a few important islands thrown upon its bosom, and some portions of the long circuit of its mar- gin studded, not unlike the northern shore of '* Not having the exact dimensions of these lakes from authority, under hand, tliese statements are made from recol- lection, and a glance view of the map. It is thought they are within the actual limits, and sufficiently accurate for the present purpose. GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA. 25 Lake Huron. This vast inland sea has its outlet into Lake Huron, by the Falls of St. Mary, at its eastern termination ; or rather by a rapid of one mile in length, making a descent of twenty-two feet in that distance, and which might easily be overcome for the purposes of naviga- tion, by a ship canal of trifling expense. Apart from the occupation of these waters by the bark canoes of the aboriginal tribes, this lake, as yet, is used for little else than the fur trade, and bar but a few vessels upon it. But the masters of these vessels are familiar with all its regions. Lake Superior, it will be seen, is the most re- mote of the seas we are now describing, as well as most magnificent. Its waters and its shores are the least visited by civilized man. No law holds dominion there, but the law of interest, or of passion. Its vast bosom, capable of floating navies, and probably destined for such display, ordinarily bears only the Indian bark upon its waves. The wild and romantic solitudes of its shores, and of the deep forests and unsurveyed territories, by which they are bounded, as yet have been familiar only with the howl of the wild beasts, and little traced except by the de- vious track of the red man, who pursues his game to satiate his hunger; or by the sinuous paths of the warrior train, intent upon revenge, VOL. I. c 4 .11, !f 2G GREAT LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA. w f I' I i-; and thirsting for blood. The position of this lake, in relation to those of which mention has been made, and to the occupied territories of the Canadas and of the United States, is for off in the nortli-west. The southern shore of Lake Superior is the northern boundary of a large civil division of the United States, called the North- West Territory; where the events, which will occupy a large por- tion, and make the leading topic of these pages, transpired. The State of Illinois is on the south of this territory; Lake Michigan on the east ; and the river Mississippi on the west ; the whole region extending from north latitude 42" 45' to nearly 49^ in its extreme border, around and beyond the western termination of Lake Superior ; and comprehending in its longest line from east to west about nine degrees of longitude. The principal scene, however, of the events we are to notice, is laid on the eastern margin of this territory, near the mouth of Fox River, at the head of Green Bay. But why this lesson in geography ? That all concerned may know where they are, and under- stand, as much as may be convenient, the rela- tions of the events and things described, to other things and events. It may be proper to say in addition, as will ultimately appear, that the ! GREAT LAKES OF NORTl/ AMERICA. O' 11 whole r>f this territory, till quite recently, has been exclusively occupied by the aboriginal tribes ; except as the fur traders have traversed those regions to traffic with the Indians. Even now there are but few other tenants of the territory. It may also be observed, that the northern shores of this long chain of Lakes, and their con- necting channels, or straits, called rivers, from the outlet of Lake Ontario, nearly to the head of Lake Superior, appertain to the British posses- sions of North America, and lie within the exten- sive province of Upper Ca.iada. And the exact boundary between the contiguous jurisdiction of the United States and the British dominions there, as settled a few years since by a joint Board of Commissioners from the two Govern- ments, is for the most part an imaginary line, running from and to certain assumed and fixed points, intended to divide those immense inland waters equally between the two Powers. The Lakes themselves, for the purposes of commerce and navigation, are necessarily subjected to regu- lations, not unlike those which govern the high seas ; but more easily arranged and executed, as only two nations are concerned in their main- tenance. The trace of this jurisdiction boun- dary is of course exceedingly devious. c 2 v| • n I ff' m ( ; CHAPTER IV. MOTIVES FOR THE TOUR, &c. Niagara Falls is yet the common boundary in the West of the pleasure excursions for the summer, with European visitants of the New World, and with the travelling gentry of the United States. Few find motive enough, or feel sufficient ambition to endure the sea-sickness of the Lakes, that they may penetrate farther, merely for pleasure. It is true, that the rapid crowding of the West, by an emigrant population, settled all along the southern shore of Lake Erie, and through the states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and the Territory of Michigan, together with the grand communication now opened be- tween the city of New York and the great valley of the Mississippi over the bosom of Lake Erie, has made that lake a busy scene of com- mercial enterprise. Besides all the sailing craft I m MOTIVES FOR THE TOUR. 29 employed, a Steam-packet leaves both the upper and lower extremities of this Lake every day for a voyage of forty-eight hours, more or less, between Buffalo and Detroit, touching at the principal ports on the southern shore ; and, in addition to these, several Steamers are employed in shorter trips. One stretches for the most direct course through the entire of the Lake, without touching at any of the intervening ports, for the sake of dispatch, and to accomplish the voyage in twenty-four hours. As might be ex- pected, a constant stream of genteel travellers, going to and from the Mississippi Valley, and to and from the city of Detroit, for the various objects of business, of visiting friends, of scientific obser- vations, of gratifying curiosity, of executing public trusts, or of finding a home for themselves and families, in some one of those regions of promise, is seen to be always moving there, like a fairy vision. Once a month a Steam-packet leaves Buffalo for the far off' re^^ions of the north-west, beyond the city of Detroit, through the upper Lakes, to answer the purposes of government, in keeping up a communication with the garrisons of tho«:e frontiers, and to accommodate the few travellers, who may have business in those quarters, or who are bold and romantic enough to push their excursions of pleasure so far. 4 a 1^! i i^' m 50 MOTIVES FOR THE TOUR. As a Commission from the government of the United States had been ordered to the North West Territory, for Au[;ust, 1830, to kindle a Council-fire, as it is called, and to smoke the pipe, with a public assembly of the Chiefs of the numerous tribes of Indians, in that quarter, for the purpose of settling certain disputes cxi.sting among themselves, in their relations to each other, and also some misunderstandings between sundry of their tribes and the general Govern- ment, the Author having leisure, and being a little curious to know more of this race, than he had ever yet seen, conceived, that this extraordi- nary occasion for the convention of the Chiefs and representatives of the wilder and more remote tribes, would afford a good opportunity for the knowledge and observation he so much coveted. He had seen not a little of the Indians, in their semi-civilized conditions, as they are found in- sulated here and there, in the midst of the white population of the States ; and of course where their manners, habits, character, and very nature have been much modified by their intercourse and intimacies with civilized society. The In- dian of North America, in such circumstances, is quite another being from the Indian in his wild and unt'itored condition ; and as the advo- cates fov the resolving of society into its original CHARACTER OF WILD INDIANS. ol elements, would say : — he is there in his unso- phisticated nature. No one can pretend to understand the cha- racter of the aboriginal tenants of America, who has seen them only as vit'ialed by contact with Europeans. I say litiatecl. For, if they are not made better by proper protection and culti- vation, they become much worse, as human nature, left to itself, is more susceptible of the contagion of vice, than of improvement in virtue. The Indian, thrown into temptation, easily takes the vices of the white man ; and his race in such exposures melts away, like the snow before a summer's sun. Such has been the unhappy fate of the aborigines of America, ever since the dis- covery of that continent by Columbus. They have melted away — and they are still melting away. They have been cut off by wars, which the provocations of the whites have driven them to wage, — and the remnants, depressed, unpro- tected — and in their own estimation humbled and degraded, their spirit broken within them, — have sunk down discouraged, and abandoned them- selves to the fate of those, who have lost all ambition for a political existence, and who covet death rather than life. The wild Indian, however, whose contact with the European race has not been enough to 'f '^i ■■ sj CHARACTER OF WILD INDIANS. P vitiate his habits, or subdue his self-importance, — wlio still prowls the forest in the pride of his independence, — who looks upon all nations and tribes, but his own, as unworthy of the contemp- tuous glance of his eye, — whose dreams of importance become to him a constant reality, and actually have the same influence in the for- mation of his character, as if they were all that they seem to him; — he regards himself as the centre of a world, made especially for him. Such a being, and much more than this, who is not a creature of the imagination, but a living actor in the scenes of earth, becomes at least an interesting object, if he does not make a problem, yet to be solved, in moral philosophy, in politics, in the nature and character of man, as a social being. '•h '■■'■'< I. ♦• BRVf CHAPTER V. THE ROMANCE OF EXPECTATION, &c. That the author indulged many romantic ex- pectations, in the excursion that was before him, was not only natural, but warranted. He could not reasonably be disappointed, so long as imagi- nation did not become absolutely wild aud ungovernable, and fly away from earth — or "call for spirits from the vasty deep" — or fancy things, of which heaven or earth aftbrds no likeness. In constitutional temperament and in principle I was rather fond of the fascinating and ever changing hues, which genuine poetry throws over the variegated phases of the natural world. The universe I had been accustomed to regard, as one grand poetic panorama, laid out by the Creator's hand, to entertain uncorrupt minds, without danger of satiety, and to "lead them up c 3 ■>' I P M n 34 THE POETRY OF NATURE AND RELIGION. \m i:iJ,iA * through nature's works to nature's God." Ser- mons I could find, or believed were to be found, ** in trees, and brooks, and stones ; and good in every thing." *' The heavens declare the glory of God," and "the earth is full of his bounty" — and he who does not admire the former, to the praise of Plim that made them, and partake of the rich gifts of the latter with gratitude to their author, it must be ascribed alike to his stupidity and depravity. I have thought, that he who cannot appreciate sucli sentiments, can never sympathise with the best feelings, and happiest condition of man. The universe, in all its parts, suggests them; and neaven itself, we have rea- son to believe, is full of them. And there is no place so natural to song, so full of music, so beautiful in its attractive forms, or so enchanting in the combination and display of its glories to the eye, as heaven. All the most lively and glowing sentiments of true religion, of genuine piety, are of a poetic character. And the highest and sweetest inspirations of Divine Revelation, it need not be said, are all poetry. Green Bay, in the North West Territory, where we were destined, is commonly reckoned the end of the world. It is not even imagined, by the vul- gar, that there is any place, or any human being, or any thing with which mortals may have to do, 11 NURSERY TALES. So beyond it. Besides, the way is long — the seas dangerous and ever liable to sudden and dis- astrous storms — ihe shores uninhabited, or te- nanted only here and there by the inhospitable savage. Latitude and longitude and clime were all to be changed, and changed too by a long stretch — not long perhaps to such a voyager as Captain Cook, or Captain Parry ; but yet long and dubious, and in no small degree romantic, to one, who had never been accustomed to the wilder regions of the new world. To go up among the Indians, the savages of the wilderness ! and be their guest, far from the territories of civilized man ! Who has not listened in the nursery to the tales of Indian wars, of the tomahawk and scalping knife, of the midnight massacre and burn- ing of villages and towns ; of the mother butchered with her infant in her arms ; of the grey head, and man in full vigour of life, slaughtered together ; and a train of tender captives, driven away to glut the vengeance of the savage, by the endurance of every imaginable torture ; — until the story has thrilled his blood with horror, and he re- fused to be left in his bed, till his nurse, who had frightened him, had sung him to sleep? And although he may have stood corrected in his maturer years, and entertained less horrible notions of the savage, still he can never alto- •-Ai Mil ■ #1 36 THE SAVAGE PROPER. gether efface his first i'npressions. The poetry of his feelings often overpowers his judgment, and he not only anticipates much from he sight of a savage in his native regions and costume ; but he involuntarily shrinks from the peculiar, rigid, and stern aspect of his countenance ; shud- ders at the thought of what may possibly be working in his soul ; and calculates a thousand imaginable results of an interview, which per- chance has placed him in the power of such an unsocial and awful being. There stands before him a naked man, with visage painted horrible, whose every muscle demonstrates his custom to exertion and fatigue, who knows not how to smile ; who never sleeps, or wakes, but that a weapon of death is girded to his side, or borne in his hand ; who is a creature of passion, and inflexible in his purpose, when once resolved ; who conceals his thoughts beneath his imper- turbable countenance ; who never betrays his emotions, however deep and strong they are ; — who can be indiflfertiit in such society? But we must not anticipate the scenes to come. Having made the reader already so much acquainted with Lake Erie, we will not detain him long upon a sea familiar to his thoughts. It may be remarked, that the surface of this lake is five hundred and seventy-five feet above high y. ,! 1 ■fif i EMBARKATION. 37 water on the Hudson river at Albany, the Eastern termination of the Erie canal. The rapids and Falls of Niagara, the rapids of the St. Lawrence, and the general descent of these waters to the ocean, make the difference. About the 20th of July, 1830, we embarked at Buffalo in the steam-packet, Superior^ for Detroit, and made the passage in two days, skirting the southern shore, and touching at the principal ports, without remarkable incident, except an unpleasant encounter with an army of musquitoes in the bay of Sandusky, which were taken on board at the port of the same name, in lieu of passengers left behind ; and whose audaciousness, ferocity, and blood-thirsti- ness, were enough to make one out of temper with the place ; and which, notwithstanding all attempts to ward off their assaults, inflicted upon us many deep and annoying impressions. Lake Erie is unchequered by islands, till we begin to approach its western regions ; where, instead of an open sea, the beautiful and curving shores of the main land, and of the insular terri- tories, covered as they generally are with un- broken forests, and opening channels and bays in every direction, lend a vision of enchantment, rarely equalled, to the eye of the passenger, borne along upon the bosom of the deep. It . • ^^ M 88 BEAUTIES OF LAKE ERIE. [U I 'I t ? •> I presents the aspects of nature, in all her chastc- ness, UTitouchedj inviolate ; and when the wind is lulled, and the face of the waters becomes a sea of glass, it is nature's holiest sabbath ; and seems to forbid the approach and trespass of the dashing engine, which rushes forward in fury and envy of the scene ; while the passenger, wrought 10 ecstacy in contemplation of the novel exhibition, shrinks back within himself involun- tarily, as if in fear of some sudden retribution from above, for the daring violation of this sa- cred retreat of nature's repose. In a mood like this, the stranger enters the river of Detroit, almost level with its banks, fancies he hears the thunders of old Maldon, (a British fort on the Canada side at the mouth of the river), gazes at the mean and sordid huts of the unambitious French, (for however unexpected the announce- ment, there are no people in the world more distant from ambition, than the French of Canada), — admires the lightness and celerity, which characterize the movements of the Indian canoe, filled with copper-coloured faces and un- covered heads, and darting up and down and across the stream, in obedience to the paddles, which enter the water so still and with so little apparent effort, as scarcely to disturb the sur- face ; — and soon finds himself laid in the docks ARRIVAL AT DETROIT. 31) of a busy and flourishing port, presenting hand- some streets and handsome steeples, itself the ancient seat of Indian war and Indian romance, identified and connected with a history like romance. n ' i*! ii il II CHAPTER VI. HISTORY OF DETROIT, &c. Detroit has long been regarded as the Hmit of civihzation towards the north-west — and to tell truth, there is even yet but little of the character of civilization beyond it. As may be seen from the map, it rests upon the west side of the strait, or river, which connects Lake Huron with Lake Erie; about ten miles below that small exten- sion of the strait, called Lake St. Clair ; and twenty miles above the north shore of Lake Erie, towards its western extremity. This town, or commercial port, is dignified with the name, and enjoys the chartered rights, of a city ; although its population at present does not exceed three thousand. The banks of the river above and below the city are lined with a French popula- tion, descendants of the first European traders among the Lidians, in that quarter ; and extend- ing from Lake Erie to Lake St. Clair, increasing '.*■ (1 HISTORY OF DETROIT. 41 in density, as they approach the town, and averaging perhaps one hundred per mile. The city of Detroit dates its history from July 1701. At that time M. de la Motte Cadillac, with one hundred men, and a Jesuit, carrying with them every thing necessary for the commencement and support of the establishment meditated, reached this place. " How numerous and di- versified," says a public literary document, " are the incidents compressed within the history of this settlement! No place in the United States presents such a series of events, interesting in themselves, and permanently aHecting, as they occurred, its progress and prosperity. Five times its flag has changed — three diiferc t sove- reignties have claimed its allegiance, and since it has been held by the United States, its govern- ment has been thrice transferred. Twice it has been besieged by the Indians, once captured in war, and once burned to the ground." It should be observed, that the French trading ports, on the Upper Lakes, preceded the settle- ment of Detroit by nearly fifty years ; that as early as 1673 they had descended the Mississippi, as far as the Arkanses; and that in 1G79 Robert de la Sale penetrated through the Delta of the Mississippi, and saw its waters mingle with the Gulf of Mexico. Then was the interesting 42 EARLY TRADING POSTS. m and vast conception formed and matured, of esta- blishing a cordon of posts from Quebec, by •vay of the Upper Lakes and the Mississippi, to the Mexican seas — an enterprise, which, considering the age and the obstacles, both physical and moral, may proudly take rank with any thing do-v in later days. What child, whose vernacular tongue is Eng- H-hj has not listened to Indian story with an intensity cf interest, which he can never cease to cherish; cmd with expectation of something new and newer still, from the wildness and fierce- ness of savage enterprise ? Where is the mpn, however grave with philosophy and bowed with the weight of years, however accustomed to things prodigious, whose ear will not bend to the pro- mise of him, who announces an untold page of Indian warfare ? He who is read in the strifes of civilized nations, can easily anticipate the modes and the results, even of Napoleon's cam- paigns. But he who follows the track of the savage, thirsting for blood, expects some new development of stratagem and cruelty, at every turn. Like Tec.wiseh, whose name signifies a tiger crouching for his prey, a man great in council and in war; and who bore the commi?^sion of chief of the Indian forces, in the British army PONTIACS CONSPIRACY. iS in the late war; — like him, the Ottawa chieftain, of the middle of the last century, gave demon- stration of a spirit, which in other circumstances, might have left him a name, not inferior to Alex- ander, or Cesar, or Napoleon. It is sufficient to say, that in 1763, a time of profound peace, Pontiac had attained such influence and supre- macy over all the Indian tribes, spread over those extensive regions, as to ha^o united them in a grand confederacy for the in. '^a? neous ex- tinction of all the European pf . *^ ai> jg a thou- sand miles of frontier; ant' tict he actually succeeded, so far as to cut ofl, almost simul- taneously, nine out of ticelv*. ii these military establishments. The surprise of Michillimacki- nack, one of these stations, is narrated in the following manner, })y the document above quoted : " The fort was then upon the main land, near the northern point of the peninsula. The Ottawas, to whom the assault was committed, prepared for a great game of ball, to which the officers of the garrison were invited. While engaged in play, one of the parties gradually inclined towards the fort, and the other pressed after them. The ball was once or twice thrown over the pickets, and the Indians were suffered to enter and prociu'e it. Nearly all the garrison were present as spectators, and those un duty } 44 DETROIT SAVED. V 'm\ .1 ■!■} H^ were alike unprepared, as unsuspicious. Sud- denly the ball was again thrown into the fort, and all the Indians rushed after it. The rest of the tale is soon told. The troops were butchered, and the fort destroyed." But no one stratagem of Indian warfare is like another. We only know, that eight of the other stations were annihilated nearly at the same instant. Detroit was one of the three stations successfully defended, but not without the shed- ding of much blood. Pontiac himself appeared before it. And so unsuspected was his stratagem, that nothing would have prevented its triumphant execution, but for the informations of a friendly Indian woman. Pontiac had negotiated a great council to be held in the fort, to which himself and warriors were to be admitted, with rifles sawed off and hid under their blankets ; by which, with the tomahawk and knife, at a con- certed signal from their chieftain, they were to rise and massacre the garrison. But in conse- quence of the advice from the woman, the garri- son were prepared. Pontiac and his warriors being rebuked, were too generously dismissed, and in return for this kindness commenced and waged a most bloody war. Pontiac, unsuccessful in his wars against these posts, notwithstanding the great advantages he ^;< roNTiAc s di:atii. 45 had gained, and after committing numberless and untold cruelties, (though he was not without his fits of generosity, and of w}iat are called the noble traits of Indian character), — implacable in his hatr 1 and resentments ; finally retired to the Illinois, in the south-west, and was there assassinated by the hand of an Indian. " The memory of this great Ottawa chief," says the document used above, and from which this ac- count is abridged, " is still held in reverence among his countrymen. And wliatever be the fate, which awaits them, his name and deeds will live in their traditionary narratives, increasing in interest, as they increase in years." Detroit, originally, and for ages a post for trade, and a garrison for its protection — having enjoyed and suffered alternately peace and war, with the aborigines and between rival civilized powers, for such a long series of years — has now become the beautiful and flourishing metro- polis of a wide and interesting territory — a terri- tory destined soon to make at least two of the most important states of the American Union. The city looks proudly across one of the noblest rivers of the continent, upon the territory of a great and rival power, and seems to say, though in such vicinity, in reference to her former expo- sure and painful vicissitudes : — *' Henceforth I s \ ^i( TERRITORY OF MICHIGAN. will sit in peace, and grow and flourish under the wing of this Confederate Repuhlic." And this place, hut a little while ago so distant, is now brought within four days of the city of New York — the track })ursued being seven hundred and fifty miles. Here, at Detroit, some of the finest steamers in North America, come and go every day, connecting it with the east, and have begun alrcudy to search out the distant west and north. The peninsula of Michigan, lying between the lake of the same name on the west, and Huron on the east, is one of the greatest beauties of the kind in America, if not in the world. Where can be found such a tongue of land, and of so great extent, skirted by a coast of eight hundred miles, of the purest fresh-water seas, navigable for ships of any burthen ? The climate mild and healthful, the country ascertained to be the best of land — with streams and rivers sufficient for all useful purposes — and the upland level, between the two great lakes, chequered with innumerable small lakes, or basins, of one, three, five, and ten miles in circumference, pure and clear as the fountains of Eden, and abounding with fish, as do the rivers. There is something in the cha- racter of these basins of water, and in the multi- tude of them, which imparts a charm to this \ t \l ITS BEAUTIES. 17 j.-'H W region, altogether unrivalled. They are the sources of the rivers and smaller streams, which How into either lake — themselves and their outlets pure as crystal. How many gentlemen of large estates, and nohlemen of Europe, have under- taken to create artificial lakes, and fill them with fish — which after all their pains are doomed to the constant deposits of filth and collections ol' miasmata ; r<"d which maybe clouded by the plunge of a frog ? But in the territory of Michigan is a world of lakes, created by the hand of God, of all dimensions and shapes, just fitted for the sports of fancy, of childhood, and of youth — for the relaxations of manly toil — for the occupation of leisure ; — the shores of which are overhung with beautiful and wholesome shades — and the waters deep, and so clear, that the fish cannot play in their lowest beds, without betraying their mo- tions to the observer, floating in his bark upon the surface. The common processes of nature maintain the everlasting and perfect purity of these waters, independent of the care of man. The transparency of the waters, in those upper regions, and in the great lakes, is a marvel — an incredible wonder to those, who have been accus- tomed only to turbid lakes and turbid rivers. m:\ ■^n ! 1 I;: ' I ! f , ■ ; : 1 ■ ' CHAPTER VII. IlEMARKyVBLE INSTANCE OF CAPITAL CRIME. We will not detain the reader any longer at Detroit, except to notice a remarkable instance of capital crime. On the 26th of July, during our stay at Detroit, S. G. S. received the sen- tence of death, from the proper tribunal, for the murder of his wife, under circumstances, aggra- vated by brutality and savageness, too painful for recital ; and in the cont mplation of which huma- nity shudders. The wretched man's own children were the principal witnesses, on whose testimony he had been convicted. In telling the story of their mother's dreadful end, they brought their father to the gallows. In the progress of the trial, a history of savage violence was disclosed, such, we would fain believe, as rarely passes upon the records of crime. What demon of hell can be more fatal to human happiness, and to the souls of men, than ardent spirits? The children, a I REMARKABLE INSTANCE, &'C. 49 son and two daughters, of adult years, testified abundantly to the natural aniiableness and aticc- tionatc kindness, in the conjugal and parental relations, not only of the mother, but also of their father, in his sober moments. But when intoxicated, he seemed possessed of the furies of a more abandoned world. As the murderer entered the place of judg- ment, and was conducted to the bar to receive the sentence of the law, I observed in him a noble luunan form, erect, manly, and dignified ; of large but well proportioned stature; bearing a face and head not less expressive, than the most perfect bean ideal of the Roman ; with a coun- tenance divinely fitted for the play of virtue, of every parental and conjugal affection ; and an eye beaming out a soul, which might well be imagined to have been once susceptible of the love and worship of the Eternal One — all — all marred and spoiled by the demon of intemper- ance ; and now, alas ! allied to murder of the most diabolical cast. Rarely is seen among the sons of men a more conmianding human form, or a countenance more fitly set to intelligence and virtue— made, all would say, to love and be honoured. lUit now what channe bv the debasements of brutal appetite, and the ini])r0" voked indulgence aiid instigation of a I'atal VOL. I. D .. 'ii 1 1 I 50 REMARKABLE INSTANCE H I' -!■ :. passion! By what a fearful career of vice and crime, bad he come to this ! " What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! bow infinite in faculties ! in form and moving, bow express and admirable ! in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, bow like a god ! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!" But when debased and ruined by vice, how like a fiend, in shape so unbefitting such a spirit! And yet, who could see the fiendly stamp upon this poor and wretched man ? For he wept — he sobbed ! His iinnost soul heaved with anguish! he bore the marks oi contrition. As a man, and such a man if we could forget his crime — he was to be respected ; as l)eing in a condition of suflfering, he was to be pitied; and as seeming the image of repcntancv^ heaven might forgive what man could not. It was an awful hour, when he approached the bar even of this earthly tribunal, anticipating well his doom. For a jury of his country, as he knew, had set their seal upon it. As he entered this now awful chamber of justice, he cast his eye around upon the expecting throng, whose presence and gaze could only be a mockery of his condition; — and with the greatest possible effort for self-possession, braced his muscular ener- .^ies to support his manly frame, while trembling i «B^ ' OF CAPITAL CRIME. 51 under tlie tempest of passion, which agitated his soul. But the moment he was seated, all his firmness dissolved into the weakness of a child ; — and he wept ; — he sohbed aloud. A silence reigned through the crowd, and a thrill of sympathy seemed to penetrate every heart. The court, unaccustomed in that land to such an office, felt themselves in a new and an awful condition, with a icllow-being arraigned at their bar, cha'-ged and convicted of a most atrocious — and in its circumstances, an unparalleled crime, and his doom suspended at that moment on their lips. Tlieir emotions were too evident to be mistaken, and in the highest degree honourable to their hearts. *' S. G. S." — the name in full being pronounced by the court, broke the awful silence of the place, — "have you any thing to say, why the judgment of the court should not now be pronounced?" The prisoner rose con- vulsed, and with faltering voice, and in broken accents, replied : " Nothing, if it please the court, except what I have already communicated" — and resumed his seat. Upon which a very apprc^- priate, eloquent, and impressive address was made by the court to the prisoner, setting forth the fact and nat u'c of the crime, of which he stood convicted ; appealing to his own knowledge for the fairness of his trial ; and to his own D 2 i ■ i f i): o REMARKARLK INSTANCE ; 'ttl consciousness of the justice of liis doom ; com- mendini,^ liim to heaven for that clemency, which he could no longer ask of men; — and then the awful sentence was pronounced. " And may God Almighty," said the judge, with that sub- dued emphasis and touching pathos, which be- came the responsibility of his office, and the nature of the occasion — "may God Almighty have mercy on your soul." The prisoner, by all the testimony, was in his nature kind. He had loved his wife excessively, and loved her, strange as it may seem, unto the last. And for that very love he was the more cruel, and the greater monster. He was jealous of her fidelity, without cause. Jealousy! " 'tis a monster begot upon itself — born on itself." "That's he — that teas Othe^lvi !" And only when intoxicated with strong drink did this ter- rible passion gain i dominion over him. In the moments of his .so!)iiety, he loved and confided, and could say in company of his wife, " ]My soul hath her content so absohitc, Tlh'it not another comfort like to thee, Succeeds in unknown tato." But it would seem, that hell itself were scarcely more furious, or more terrible, than he, when the demon of ardent spirits assumed control of his ■ OF CAPITAL CRIME. 5ii passions. If demoniacs were now-a-days about, die name of that man, in such predicament and mood, were worthy to be written, as prince of the host. But in prison, and before tlie tribunal ot justice, this wretched being, once kind in nature, and made a fiend by the abuse of his nature, «tood dispossessed, the guihy and conscious nuu'derer of her, wliom he espoused in her youth and lovehness, and who was ever worthy of liis love; — and whom he took to his bosom, and pro- mised, by the light and love of lieaven, to be her husband and protector. He was executed on the 21th of September. i if *M 4 ■ I 1 ;^l • I CHAPTER VIIl. EMBARKATION FROM DETROIT, &( . On the 4th of August the steam-packet, Shel- don I'homson, left Detroit for the Upper Lakes, her ultimate destination heing Green Bay, witii tlie United States' Commissioners, bound on tlie errand heretofore aUuded to, and which we shall notice again by-and-by ; — three companies of troops for the frontier garrisons ; — several parties of ladies and gentlemen ; some in pursuit of pleasure, some of materials for science and litera- ture ; some of business ; some families returning, or emigrating to those new and remote settle- ments; — with pigs, poultry, &c. &c. As near f^s we recollect, tlic number of souls on board, including troops, commissioners and suite, ladies and j«.,ontlr men, and the crew — was not far from i>i:o hundred and fifty. The iarityof this expedition gave it some im- p rtance. The character of the compiuiy, but i CAPTAIN SYMMKS THEORY. i).) especially the objects of the mission from Govern- ment to the Indians oi the North-^^'est, magnified the interest not inconsiderably. It is true there is some sailin^i craft habitually employed in this line of navigation. It is also true, that one of the steam-packets of Lake Erie, ordinarily makes a trip into those remote regions, some two or three limes in a season; as encouragements offer. But Detroit is reckoned the common limit of the c'owd, who flock to the west in the summer ; anti a trip beyond is quite notable, and esteemed a great treat with the curious, and with all who liave a taste for novel, wild, and romantic scenery; or an ambition to see that which is seldom seen by the common herd of travellers. It is confessed, that an expedition to the North Pole, is somewhat more important to the persons concerned; — and if they have the good luck to get back again, it may be more im})ortant to the world. If Captain Synmies had lived to accomplish his expedition to the centre of the earth, that would at least have been more interesting. It is possible, it may not yet be understood, all the world over, that the earth is hollow, and to be entered by a passage towards the imaginary poles ; the polar points being themselves of course in the celestial re£>:ions, and therefore unattainable to man. This important discovery 3G BUSTLE OF THE EMBARKATION. m . ■vvas made by the above-named Captain Synimes, of Ohio, United States. It is not pretended, tliat tlie particular expedi- tion, which makes the su])ject of our story, can claim a paramount importance, with either of those just alluded to. But still it attracted considerable attention. All the newspapers of the country — at least very extensively — announced it long beforehand ; — that is — the proprietors of the steam-packet took care to put it in circulation, for the greater profit of the voyage, by attracting the attention of the curious, and offering motive to the enterprising. It was by this sort of news- paper puffing, that the author was drawn iiito the train ; as was the fact with a great portion of the company. On the morning of the 4th of August, the city of Detroit was in no little bustle, and the wharf, along-side of which lay the Sheldon Thomson, with her signals snapping in the wind, exhibited a most busy swarm of human beings, runnuig to and fro, in the way of preparation. At eleven o'clock A. M. the gun was fired, and the packet bore away for Lake St. Clair, under all the force of wind and steam, and with as fine a day, as the sun ever matle upon the earth. Indeed the scene and the occasion were quite inspiriting : and the objects in view wore the aspect of many powerful 1 I LAKE ST. CLAIR. 57 fr ni ^W\m ■ and romantic attractions. The beautiful city ol' Detroit l)egan to recede, while the packet, l)orne alon«( between the Canadian shore and \\o\; Island, (a name, it must be confessed, ill deserved by a thing so beautiful) glided in fine style into the opening expanse of Lake St. Clai/. Lake St. Clair, as before recognized, is an expansion of the strait, nearly in a circular form, with a diameter of thirty miles ; and in conse- quence of the depression of all its shores, and there being no hills in the innncdiatc interior, the position of a vessel in any part of its border, opens from the deck a shoreless sea in the distant prospect. The centre of the lake presents a beautiful and enchanting looming up of the shores, as the sailors call it, in all directions ; and the marginal forests, broken every here and there, by the indentations of the coast, seem to hang suspended in the horizon, between the sea and the heavens, and play and dance before the eye, in a sort of fairy vision. The images of this kind, fore and aft, and on either side, were con- tinually changing their forms, and showing the most fantastic shapes, as the vessel wended her serpentine course, by the channel through the lake, from its southern to its northern border. For Lake St. Clair is an exception to all the others, in this particular : that its waters are D o t\ m 58 LAKE ST. CLAIR. generally shallow, except in the channel ; ami that channel is perpetually changuig by the etiect of storms, and rec^uires a frequent survey for the direction of the pilot. Indeed this body of water is hardly worthy to be dignified with the name of a Lake^ in comparison of the others, and might as well be considered, as a flooding of low lands — which seems to be the exact truth. The main, current of water through it, however, always maintains a channel, suflicient for all the pur- poses of navigation, though it is somewhat devious. The passage over Lake St. Clair, in a day of such unrivalled physical glories, in such a com- pany, on such an expedition, leaving the regions of civilization behind us, and just about to plunge into the regions of barbarism ; — or rather, flying from a world, violated by the track and by the hand of man, into a world of virgin waters and into a virgin wilderness — all vast, and their pro- per character inconceivable, except by actual inspection ; such a passage might well make an apology for the indulgence of some trifling in- gredients of poetry and romance. Every heart seemed light and buoyant, as the clouds floating in the sky, and its attections active, as the ele- ments by which the bark, which made their home, was M^afted along ; — and all prospects bright and I INTEREST OF THE SCENE. >J) cheering, as the sun, \vhicli shone upon the scene. The chmate and aspects of the heavens seemed clianged. The clouds, such, as a clear atmo- sphere and its brisk currents fold together in their fleecy robes, and toss along in suUinic and ma- jestic sp'/.c; — the shores and islets successively receding in one direction, and coming into view from another; — a nevv and fine steamci*, dashing through the waves, with all her sails set to the breeze, and crammed with a population, like bees upon the hive, in a summer's day, all life and bustle ; — the toute ensemble presented a scene, as picturescjue, as could well be grouped, under a traveller's eye. And then again the variety of character on board : three detachments of raw recruits, bidding adieu to the common world, and going to occupy the frontier posts, to keep the peace between the traders and Indians, be- tween the Indians themselves, and if needs be, between the querulous parties of Canadians and Americans, strolling in those regions; — a Commis- sion from Government, on their way to settle dis- putes and negotiate treaties with the aboriginal tribes of the North-West ; — traders, voyagers of pleasure and observation, and friends going to visit friends, in those distant retreats ; — a vicnr general from the pope of Rome, with plenipoten- tiary powers of remission and retention in things IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1 2.5 ■^ 1^ 12.2 Uf ii4 III ^ li£ III 2.0 iiSi 11-25 1.4 |i.6 41 6" ► V] vQ ^;. '/ -(S^ Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 ..^ &/■ ()0 LELTA OF lUVEIl ST. CLAIR. spiritual, and of supervising the interests of the Cathohc churcii ; together with two Protestant clergymen and a missionary of Mackinaw ; — men, women, and children of all grades, and all conditions — and withal the rare character of the excursion ; — all these things together, as might be supposed, contributed to lend an interest and a charm to the expedition, so auspiciously com- menced, not easily conceived by any one, who did not make one of the party. About four o'clock, p.m., we found ourselves, hard upon what may be called, with the greatest propriety, the Delta of the river St. Clair, which discharges itself by dhont fifty mouths into the lake of the same name. The principal navigable channels are Jive. The extended marshes, chal- lenging the utmost scope of the eye, lying only a few inches higher than the water, and all waving with heavy burdens of high prairie grass ; — the meandering mouths of the river, shooting in every direction, and insulating the region in the most fantastic forms ; — the thick and impenetrable copses of wood, of larger and smaller extent, springing up here and there, in all their various shapes, until after a few miles they are merged in one unbroken forest, and seeming to vie with the outlets of the river in creating a variety of their own pecuHar kind; — these several and ■'i Il RELICS OF rilLNCII I'OPULATION. <;i i ' combined features, clian^inir their forms con- tiiiually, as we ascended the channel selected, like the coming and flitting visions of creative fancy, might almost dispossess a sober man of his senses, and persuade him, by a world of reality, that he was in a world of illusions. And then to see the French huts — for the French are to be found, scattered along the old line of trading posts, from Quebec to Detroit, from Detroit to Mackinaw, at the head of Lake Huron, from Mackinaw across the North -West Territory to Prairie du C/tien, on the Mississippi ; and from the last point along the banks of that mighty river, to the Gulf of Mexico — to look u})on the habitations of that indolent race, so mean and sordid, as they are, resting upon the river's brink, and demonstrating by their every feature a dull and lazy existence, akin to that of the savage ; — and now and then to see a group of Indians, old and young, male and female, some entirely naked, and others with the rag of a shirt, or blanket never washed, pendant and ready to drop by its rottenness from their shoulders — darting out ot a thicket upon the bank, and running and jump- ing with frantic, or joyous signs and exclama- tions of amazement, to see such a great canoe, so full of people, and rushing up against the tide, drawn, as they imagine, by great sturgeons, U ,v -I .J 4 M I '.V, I vi^: '" ■^ ■v",..; /I il ' u >n 62 A PICTURE OF FRENCH AND INDIANS. I Jl I i liarnessed under water ; — we a wonder to them and they a very piece of romance to us ; — who, fresh from the centre of civihzation, and unaccustomed to these scenes, would not gaze with interest, and iniaiiine himself drcamiuir ? — ill; jWi nn I , . m CIlAPTKIl IX. RIVER ST. CLAIR, &c. After leaving Lake St. Clair, we run in the evening about fifteen miles up the river, having enjoyed one of the most brilliant sunsets that Italy, or Greece could ever boast of, — and then stopped to take in a supply of fuel for Mackinaw. The rest of the night from nine in the evening, till four in the morning, was industriously occu- pied in running twenty-five miles to Fort Gratiot, having the double obstacle of a stiff current to stem, equal to a rapid, and a schooner in tow, which with us, was bound for the Upper Lakes. If this vessel in toiv could not classically be called an obsta-c\e, it was at least a grave Saxon /told back. But nevertheless, as the master of the steamer was sure of oi/r money, there seemed no objection in his mind to get a little more, for helping this weather-bound ship; although he had never stipulated with us for the privilege. And besides, if it was not an act of humanity, it / .,ii i li ■■}. % CA FORT HRATIOT, wasakintlncss — it being understood, that vessels, upward bound, are often detained in this current, not only days, but weeks, before a south wind s})rin8 mi: MO RAN DA J by tlie ))')int of himl, wliicli dcfcMuls tlic liarbour, skirted by a lovely fores t-seene, and spreading its fair bosom to the heavens, seems to invite those, who may be tired of the world, to its enchantin*^ retreat. I cannot imagine, how it should be left unoccupied ; and I can hardly yet i>ersuade myself, that such is the fact. I strained my eyes through the glass, as we passed, to see the busy population ; but no human form appeared. And thus I thought it nuist be a fairy creation, in kindness laid before our eye, to relieve us for a moment, from the monotony of these desolate abodes ; — for we had seen nothing like the feature of an inhabited world, since we left Fort Gratiot, except a solitary sail, far oil' on the bosom of the lake ; — but the melancholy eflect upon my own feelings, wlicn I was obliged to believe, that no man, or woman, or child was there — none of human kind to enjoy the apparent desirableness of the place — will not allow me to appreciate the favour intended. And the lusits nnturcu of all the regions we have passed, within a few hours, from that point, till we came to anchor this even- ing — the veriest sportings of nature, in her most fantastic creations of islets, and bays, and straits; the former springing up and the latter opening in every du'ection ; accompanied with the thought, that nowhere amons them all rests the habitation or i.AKi: in RON. GO -.)t of civilized man, or is often foniul tlic track of tlic sava'^^e ; — these all made fancy more vivid, romance more romantic, and the very wiidness of nature more \vild. We also ])nssed the ruins of another fort, on the island of St. Joseph, a valuahle and hcautiful territory, twenty miles by ten, liflim;- u}) a mountain in its centre, and said to embosom a mine of silver, known only to an Indian, whose* fruardian spirit will not permit cither himself, or others, to reaj) the advantages of the disclosure. This island, formerly be- longin, INDIAN LODGES. 73 nee. mess lied, the bays ; — the aUernate expansions and contractions, foi ming successively small basins and narrows ; — contribute equally to amaze and delight the unexpecting voyager. Hills and mountains too, in every shape — not even the likeness of which pre- sents itself on any shore of the lakes between this region and Buffalo — here lift themselves up in near and distant vision, one above another, restoring the long-lost charm of such a scene, and making the accustomed tenant of the hills at home again. The chapter of incidents also gave additional variety and interest to this new and rapidly shift- ing scene. On turning one of those sharp angles, about twenty miles above the point, vt^here we first entered these straits, some lodges of Indians, as they are called, perched in the bushes on the bank, opened upon us, being recognised by the reflection of white birch bark, with which they are covered. These lodges, are made as light, and are as soon taken down and removed, as a soldier's camp tent. x\nd they are the only habi- tations of the wild Indians, in their migratory enterprises of war, hunting, and fishing. In these regions, indeed, they have little else to shelter them, either in winter, or summer. The waU of the lodge, is a sort of mat, or woven tex- ture of the wild rice stalk, found growing in shallow waters ; and which, after being shaken VOL. I. E . I ill ''I m ft,. m ! ';<•■ ■ :i 74 of its fr INDIAN LODGES. s into a floating canoe, for food, is pulled up and manufactured into this useful article, serving, like the Turk's rug, for bed and chair, to the more luxurious ; and also for a part of the lodge, or house, by being drawn, itself erect, in a circle of some ten, or fifteen feet in diameter, according to the extent of the house- hold to be accommodated ; — the whole being capped with pieces of birch bark to turn the rain ; in the apex of which, ordinarily from six to ten feet in elevation, is left a small aperture for the escape of the smoke. The Indians here, depending more upon fish, than upon the chase, make these slender encampments immediately upon the margin of the waters, each consisting generally, in times of peace, of a group oi a few families, with one canoe, or two, for each house- hold, according to its number. At a few minutes' notice, whether started by alarm, or actuated by motives of change, the whole encampment, with all their furniture, may be seen afloat, and dart- ing of! for some new retreat. The enjampment is again established, with the same dispat':h, as that, which characterised its breaking up; — and they are all at home again, with their canoes drawn ashore, and turned bottom upwards ; and the smoke is seen, emitting its lazy currents from their newly-erected lodges. c h s p-i\ 'ill 1 .* u DEXTERITY OF THE INDIAN. 75 ith rt- id One of these encampments suddenly burst upon us, as we made a turning this afternoon. Immediately a canoe, filled with these sons of the forest — and it might be added, the lords of these wild waters — with rifles in hand, launched from the shore, in our advance, and bore down upon us. And what was amusing, the American ensign floated over it, though somewhat smoked and rent by use, or abuse. This was an indication, that a chief was on board of the canoe, as men of this rank in the Tribes within the jurisdiction of the United States, are often presented with a governmpnt flag. On the Canadian frontier they are not unfre- quently able to display the flag of either nation, Great Britain, or the States, as may suit their purposes. Instantly, as they shot from the shore, a.Jeu dejoie saluted us; and the channel, pent up by the dark forests, echoed as briskly with the popping of their rifles, as if they had been engaged in a running fight. They seemed to paddle with one hand, and load and fire with the Other ; and in such rapid succession, that no Yankee could equal them, even with both hands. But with all their eagerness and noise, they could not bring our captain to speak. Whether he doubted their intent, and was afraid of being shot, I cannot tell. Perceiving the captain's E 2 'If i 41'' '0 n m m. ■I I".: ■I 76 PADDLE QUICKER THAN STEAM. incivility, and themselves fast dropping astern of us in consequence, down went their rifles into the bottom of the canoe, and both hands of every Indian being applied to the paddles, they seemed resolved on overtaking us : and so indeed they did, deciding the question at once, that the Indian paddle is swifter than steam. As a reward for this extraordinary feat, — they seeming no wise unfriendly in their dispositions, but making all signs of good feeling, laughing, and rattling off with indescribable volubility their unintelligible jargon — we threw them a tow-line, and having caught it, they immediately dropped under our stern ; — and in this relation we held a long parley with them, by means of an inter- preter on board our vessel, ascertaining them to be of the Chippewa tribe, and possessing our- selves of sundry items of information, which they were able to communicate, and which we were curious and much gratified to know. Some of our passengers, delighted with such a visit, threw them some pieces of money ; and the scramble, which ensued in the canoe, plainly proved, that however perfect their unsophisticated society may be, they had not yet arrived to the happy con- dition of holding all things common. The amuse- ment, which this strife occasioned, turned out to the no small profit of the Indians. For a shower LOVE OF MONEY AND WHISKEY. 77 of copper and silver coin poured into the canoe, till they all had busy work in picking it up. And when, perchance, a white piece fell into the water — (as some of them did) — alas ! what a grave countenance the poor Indians put on, and smote their hands in agony, and looked up, as if they were about to expire with regret. The rattling of another piece of coin in the bottom of their canoe would bring them to their senses again, and renew the squabble. When, how- ever, the purse was satisfied, in rendering its contents, a bottle of whiskey, with a cord to its neck, was lowered to the eager grasp of these tawney and simple folk. But not being inclined to drink it on the spot, how should they dispose of it, and return the bottle, which for some reason was not offered them. It was a decanter, I believe, belonging to the steward. Necessity being the mother of invention, a smoked tin kettle, of some gallons' capacity, used for cooking over their fires, yet having been well cleaned by the tongue of the dogs, the common way of per- forming this office — was snatched up from the bottom of the canoe for the occasion, and received the contents. The bottle was returned, and filled, and sent down again, a plural num er of times ; till, I am sorry to say, they had got enough, in their capacious vessel, to make the '!'!. ft ■ •■ f. I «■; a v; ,, 1 H 78 AN INDIAN SALUTE. \\i' whole camp drunk — and which will probably occasion a famous pow-woWf or Indian carousal. After our guests had been kept in tow long enough to satisfy curiosity, and to enrich them by these bounteous gifts, we let them drop, and they returned to their lodges. A few miles above at another turning, another Indian camp, and much larger than the last, opened upon us, showing an extended cluster of lodges, on the shore ; and numerous canoes drawn up in the usual style. As they were un- apprised of our coming, they seemed utterly amazed — and men, women, and children ran about, and the dogs barked, as if confusion and war had come upon them. Immediately the men darted from their lodges, with rifle in hand, while the women and children launched the canoes; and in the shortest imaginable space we were right on the shore, within thirty feet of this strange assemblage of human beings ; — and pop — pop — pop — went their rifles, directly at us, in a quick and furious volley, as if they would shoot every one of us from the deck. I am sure for one, I started back, contracted myself within the smallest possible dimensions, and dodged a little. And I dare to say, I was not alone in these sen- sations. To be thus saluted, by such uncertain beings, having nothing to defend us, was not RUNNING AGROUND. 79 altogether welcome. Even if their rifles had nothing in them more solid, the very wadding might have come in our faces. No one, how- ever, was killed; and it proved to be a mere feu dejcie, to express how glad they were to see us. Ours is only the third Steam-packet, that has ever penetrated this region ; and this parti- cular group of Indians probably never saw one before. We soon ran by them ; but had not passed out of sight, before we plunged upon a sand-bar. This accident gave them an oppor- tunity to fill their canoes, and come along side, and offer their assistance and hospitality : the manner of which was certainly very grateful, although the things offered were not very va- luable. While we were engaged in working off the vessel, which occupied .n hour, they amused us greatly by their talk and manners, and received, like our other guests, no trifling donations from the passengers — not trifling to them. Through ignorance of these channels, we have run aground some half-dozen times, and being overtaken by night, in this wild and dark retreat, under the very boughs of the forest, we are compelled to lie at anchor, and wait for day- light — within five miles of our place of destina- tion : — the Saiit de St. Marie, 1 u I ■{' ■ 1 ■ CHAPTER X. THE SAUT DE ST. MARIE, &c. The Saut de St, Marie, it may be understood, is the name given by the French traders to the Falls, or rapids, which let the waters of Lake Superior down to the level of Lake Huron. Anglice: the Falls, or jump, or bound of St. Mary — or by personification, St. Mary's leap down from her dominion over the waters above to assert her empire over the waters below. Whether I have got the exact clue to the imagination of the French Catholics, in their application of this name, and am right in my interpretation, I am not quite sure. But this has seemed to me most natural. The Falls them- selves are as lovely and as gentle, (shall I say ?) as the sudden rush of such a tremendous flood, down an equable descent of twenty-two feet in a mile, can well be imagined ; and if the Spirit of the Tempest and of the Furies might be supposed ORIGIN OF THE NAME. 81 to preside over Niagara's thundering Cataract, the imagination of a CathoHc might well be allowed to instal the Holy Virgin over the rapids, which are honoured by her name — especially, as taking up his own residence there, he might more conveniently invoke and secure her protection and blessing. But he must needs have some- thing for her to do — she must be occupied. Why, then, say : these Falls are St. Mary — and their roaring is her voice ; and when he should stand in need of her assistance, he was sure to find her there. Hence : the Saut de St. Marie. On the occasion of the incident before narrated, of meeting the gallant Indian canoe, propelled by eight men, and in such display of their grotesque and glittering paraphernalia, shooting over the tops of the waves, and scarcely touching them, I happened to be in conversation, on the deck of the steamer, with a young lady, a native of the Saut de St. Maries whose father was a Scotch- man, or Scotch- Irish, and her mother pn Indian. She was well educated, and was on her return home from a visit at Detroit. She was even highly accomplished, and had been used to the best society. Any common reader of the emotions, passing in the mind, would have seen, that when this canoe first hove in sight, this young lady's feelings were in a lively and agreeable excitement. £3 1 ' '^ wn ■:% ,'; 4 M 14 \^ . .. il VM i ■i. m if' fi ^i? *■ 82 INDIAN YOUNG WOMAN. The hands and arms of an infant child would not have been opened and spread out with more expressive welcome, nor would his eyes have sparkled with more vivacity, at the sudden ap- pearance of a loved object, that had been too long out of sight for his happiness, than hers, at the sight of this Indian canoe. It was the genuine, simple eloquence of nature, which opened the heart ; on the bright page of which, sparkling with satisfaction, might oe read without the pos- sibility of mistake : * I am glad. This is home. That canoe was launched from before my mother's door this morning. I know what it is — and who they are. That has been the delight of my youth — the familiar object of my childhood — it was the wonder of my infancy — and I shall be where it came from to-night.' The sudden betray' ^^g of these emotions was so artless, as to be unavoidable. She seemed conscious, that her feelings were partly betrayed, and made a slight effort to check and conceal them. But I encouraged the developeraent — for nothing could have delighted me more, or given me a higher opinion of her character; and she in turn very frankly confessed her partialities for these objects, which connected her with home. While the canoe approached ; and while it rested over against us; and when it darted off 4 •»'i WHAT IS HOME? 88 and disappeared, as before described ; the whole scene gave new being io her affections, roused the lurking and dormant sensibilities, which are naturally challenged by such an incident; and they were played off without restraint, and in such a style, as no one could fail to admire. When I saw the next day, at the romantir "aul wild retreat of the Saut de St. Marie, the humble cabin, where the infancy of this young lady had been cradled, and where her earliest years had been spent — I could but exclaim : — What is home ? An accident ; the creature of wonted circumstances — of early and habitual associations ; it is not a place, but a mysterious centre of the affections, produced by these casualties. It may be any where — on any spot of earth ; it may be floating on the deep, and never at rest ; it may be in heaven, and ought to be there. But this was not all. When the other canoe came in our wake, and hung behind us on the tow-line, this young lady being our interpreter — my atten- tion was forcibly arrested during these interviews, at the moral power of the Indian language, and of the conversations of Indians with each other ; which I have often had occasion since to remark in other circumstances. The dependent condi- tion of the American Aborigines on each other for comfort and happiness, and as they religiously '■ 4 ' I ■ X •f :i 1 ':i Li ,. i-i.iia I 84 PECULIAR AND MORAL POWER |i' ;■'■■! suppose, on the high Providence above, whom they call the Great Spirit, for the supply of their necessities — (for themselves are always improvi- dent and frequently in want) — has imparted to their language, or manner of speaking, aii inde- scribable softness and tenderness. It is a sweet and perfect melody. As they never think, or talk abstrusely, nor task their minds with concatena- tions of logic, but speak for present convenience and gratification ; — and as they need and love kindness, their language is the very expression of kindness. Their dependent, child-like feelings, a moral cause, have produced a physical effect in the structure and use of the common medium of communication between man and man. The entire character of the Indian's voice, in conver- sation, is altogether peculiar — and that character is always of an affectionate, tender, and depen- dent cast. It proceeds from tender feeling — and challenges and awakens the like affections. It has that power, and will produce that effect, when not one word of the language is understood. And it is especially remarkable, that when Indians have acquired an European language, and while conversing in it, they use a voice characteristically and entirely different from that, which they em- ploy in their own tongue. Neither are they themselves aware of the fact. I once called the OP INDIAN LANGUAGES. 85 attention of a circle of Indian chiefs to this cir- cumstance, most of whom could speak English. At the moment, we were all speaking English. Soon after, for their own convenience, they broke into their own language. " There^' said I — "do you see ? " — they proceeded, with their attention thus challenged and directed — and the next moment, all of them burst into a loud laugh, expressive of their own astonishment at the dis- covery. They never knew it before. So when this canoe came under our stern, the first salutation between this young lady and the crew, struck me with this remarkable fact ; and the protracted conversation between the parties, was very music itself. On the announcement of every piece of news, or the starting of a new thought, the listener, in Indian dialogue, receives it with an — Rh^ (Is it so?) — partly nasal, and partly ringing so mellifluously in the chambers oi the mouth, by an ascending and circumflex intonation, falling at last into a sweet and ex- piring cadence — that the stranger hangs upon it, as upon the dying notes of the sweetest melodies — and holds his own breath in the suspense of regret, and almost involuntarily sighs, when the last palpable sound has died upon the ear. It cannot be imitated — it cannot be described. One must have heard it, to know it ; and to have '1 ■ I 86 PECULIAR AND MORAL POWER heard it with attention, is never to forget it. It is altogether of a moral character. It expresses pohteness, in all its scope; a thorough reciproca- tion of the sentiment ; thankfulness for the news, or suggestion ; entire confidence in the person speaking ; and a complete and unreserved repose of all the tender feelings on the second person of the dialogue : ^^ Eh? Eh. Is it so? It is so. Indeed? Indeed.'^ And I have only been con- firmed in these peculiar attributes of Indian lan- guages, by subsequent observation. The women, indeed, have softer and more melodious voices, than the men, as among all nations — and they give far better effect to these peculiarities. But the voices of the men, in their own tongue, are no less characteristically diverse in this particular. An Indian dialogue, (and among themselves there is no people more sociable) in connexion with the melody of their voice, and the tenderness of the mtonations and inflexions of their speecl^, is one of the finest scenes of the kind in the world. And the specimens, now under review, were peculiarly attractive and greatly eloquent, in consideration of the circumstances, and of the dramatis personce. The canoes, which came along side of the steamer, while lying on sand bars and at anchor, before her arrival at the Sautf vere numerous ; — and this young lady was the OF INDIAN LANGUAGES. 87 interpreter, and the cn'y colloquist on one side. She^ cultivated and accomplished, and well dressed, — bending over the side of the vessel, to welcome and receive the welcomes of this simple and untaught people; — and theiji mani- festing the most evident satisfaction, on her return among them ; and thus demonstrating, how much she had made herself, by her winning condescensions, the idol of a people, whom she was not ashamed to call her own. They sremecl delighted, and overjoyed to hear the sound of her voice. They literally opened their mouths and swallowed her words ; and the muscles of their countenance might be seen working with the workings of their thoughts, as they hung upon her lips. And she in turn listened to their com- munications with reciprocal satisfaction — each party, as they were alternate listeners, responding to every thought, in the utterance of their own indescribable: — Eh ? And the effect of thii ex- pression is not unlike the second to an air in a piece of music : — it is an exquisite and harmo- nious accompaniment. It sets and keeps the affections of all the parties in tune. I 1 » i < it 4 \- id lift r* : 1 : 'I 1 • iS ■ It 1 I 1 ;, 1 1 CHAPTER XI. VOYAGE FROM THE SAUT DE ST. MARIE TO GREEN BAY, &o. The next day was occupied in the disembar- cation of a second* detachment of the troops, at the garrison of the Saut, and 5m the transaction of other business appertaining to the vessel ; while a small party went up to take a peep at the opening bosom of Lake Superior, a few miles above ; and another was entertained at dinner in the hospitable mansion, which made the home of the young lady above-mentioned. To sit down at a table, spread with furniture, and burdened with viands and wines, not unbefitting the me- tropolis of a civilized community, with a pure Indian woman, acting as mistress of ceremonies, who did not venture to speak a word of the ver- nacular tongue of her guests, that office being supplied by her son-in-law, at the other end, and by her children around her : — and the scene laid I ■ ■! • One detachment had been left at Fort Gratiot. ■••'-'J THE THIRTY-TWO THOUSAND ISLANDS. 89 in that remote region — was an interesting occa- sion, as may well be supposed. The dinner was necessarily early and hasty, as the vessel was to leave in the afternoon to retrace her path, as far as the northern border of Huron, to clear the islands, if possible, before night, on her way to Mackinaw; — which was accomplished, with no remarkable incident, except, that, while passing rapidly down a current, in the midst of a granice region, and under the full power of steam, the packet rubbed fearfully on the point of a rock. If the vessel had drawn six inches more, she must inevitably have been stove and lost, though not probably with the peril of life, as the shore was within the toss of a stone, and the packet furnished with boats. But it would at least have been unpleasant for such a host of pas- sengers to be left, shipwrecked, in such a wild region. It was on the passage from the SatU to Mackinaw, that the question of the thirty-two thousand islands, on the northern and eastern margin of Lake Huron, was agitated. It was stated by one of the passengers, that Mr. , who ought to know, had affirmed it. Indeed several witnesses testified to the fact. And if so, incredible as it might seem, the reputation of that gentleman for accurate knowledge, and his 1 ,1 til I.jl ill Ii 90 THE THIRTY-TWO THOUSAND ISLANDS. opportunities of information, were entitled to settle the question. I, however, observed, that, in my own opinion, thirty -two hundred was quite enough ; and that there must be a mistake. Indeed I observed, that I could hardly believe there were thirtihtwo thousand islands, in all the waters of the continent of America. From an independent and unquestionable source of evidence, however, I was afterwards obliged to admit the fact. The record, as was affirmed, was attested from the surveys, made by the joint Board of Commissioners of Great Britain and the United States, appointed to settle the boun- dary line of their contiguous jurisdictions.* And the region, through which the common charts have drawn the channel of St. Mary's river, forms a portion of these islands — reducing that strait to twenty-five miles in length — ten miles below and fifteen miles above the rapids, or falls. The falls, it may be observed, are run with safety by canoes, and have been run by a small vessel. The Si,. Mary's river forms three channels a little below the falls, and consequently two * After all I confess it seems to me an incredible statement. That a vast group of islands have long time been observed to lie in that quarter, is evident from the fact, that the ordinary charts are densely spotted to represent them, where the follow- ing inscription staads: " The Thousand Islands.'^ ,.14 i-H THE SCENERY THEY CREATE. 91 considerable islands, besides many smaller ones, for the distance of fifteen to twenty miles ; — and thence to Lake Huron, especially towards the east, are parts of the immense group. It is impossible for any thing, but actual observation, to estimate the unnumbered beauties, created by these sports of nature. I regretted exceedingly not to have been indulged with a stay at the Saut, long enough to have made an excursion by a canoe into Lake Superior. Some half dozen of our passengers, by a bold and determined push, and at the hazard of being left behind, lan up and cast a couji d'ceil upon the face of those interesting waters. They saw the Queen of Lakes, which, indeed, was worth the efFori. The rest of us contented ourselves with proving, that the Lake commences at the head of the rapids, and having been there, that we saw it too. At break of day, on Sunday morning, the 8th of August, after sailing all night upon the bosom of Lake Huron, and from the entrance of the straits of St. Mary, the island of Mackinaw, the snow-white fort upon its rocky summit, and the beautiful town below, adorned with a Christian church, lifting up its steeple, opened upon us with a fine and most welcome display ; — and at sunrise we lay still in the clear waters of its cres- cent harbour, directly under the guns of the fort. i * v.!! .'4 !•! • i \'-'\\ 1 ,*1 ■ 'M 92 MICHILLIMACKINACK. If Quebec is the Gibraltar of North America, Mackinaw is only second in its physical cha- racter, and in its susceptibilities of improvement, as a military post. It is also a most important position for the facilities it affords, in the fur- trade, between New York and the North-West. From this point, the bateaux of the traders, boats of fifteen tons, go annually in the autumn to the most distant shores of Lake Superior, in one direction ; and to the upper regions of the Mississippi in another, laden with provisions, blankets and ammunition, and other articles of merchandize, to give the In-^ians in exchange for furs; — and return to Mackinaw in the spring, where these furs are shipped for New York, by way of Buffalo. Mackinaw is used merely, as a frontier garrison, and a trading post ; and has a population of 600 to 700. It is a beautiful island, or great rock, planted in the strait of the same name, which forms the connexion between Lakes Huron and Michigan. The meaning of the Indian name — Michillimackini'ck — is a great turtle. The island is crowned with a cap 300 feet above the surrounding waters, on the top of which is a fortification, but not in keeping. The principal fort, and the one kept in order and garrisoned, rests upon the brow of the rocky summit, 150 feet below the crown, or cap, and 11! '? i: it DESCRIPTION OF IT. 9 r» tlie same number of feet above the water ; and in such relation to the semicircular harbour, as to command it perfectly, together with the opposite strait. The harbour forms an exact crescent, the tips of its horns being about one mile asunder. The town itself, for the most part, lies imme- diately on the crescent, near the water's edge, and under the towering rock, which sustains the fort above. The harbour, town, and fort look with open and cheerful aspect towards the Huron waters, south-east, inviting or frowning, accord- ing as they are approached by friend or foe. The island of Mackinaw is nearly all covered with forests of slender growth. The shores and beach are composed of small pebbles and gravel, without a single particle of pulverized substance to cloud the transparent waters, which dash upon them. So clear are the waters of these Lakes, that a white napkin, tied to a lead, and sunk thirty fathoms beneath a smooth surface, may be seen as distinctly, as when im- mersed three feet. The fish may be seen, play- ing in the waters, over the sides of the various craft, lying in the harbours. There are two objects of natural curiosity at Mackinaw, worthy of notice : the arched rock and sugar-loaf. The latter is a cone of solid rock (and when seen from one direction, it has 1 1 t ill 1^^ 94 SUGAR-LOAF AND ARCHED ROCK. the exact form of the loaf, aftci- which it is named) lifting itself about 100 feet above the plain, in the heart, and on the summit of the island, with a base of fifty feet. Some trees and shrubbery shoot out from its sides and crevices, in defiance of the lack of soil. As to the arched rock: suppose a perpen- dicular shore of rock, 250 feet high, on the margin of the sea — from the brow of which, in retreat, lies a romantic broken ground, and an almost impervious thicket. Then suppose a notch were scolloped out of the edge, extending back about thirty feet, and down the precipice about one hundred, measuring across the supposed broken edge, fifty feet. Suppose, however, a string of the rocky edge, three feet in diameter, still to remain, stretching across this chasm, in the form of an arch, smallest in the centre, and increasing somewhat in its dimensions towards either of its natural abutments : — and this is the picture of the Arched Rock of Mackinaw. From the giddy summit above, the spectator looks down upon the Lake beneath the arch, which has the appearance of an immense gate -way, erected from the delineations of art. Or, from the bosom of the waters below, he looks up, as to the gate of heaven, inviting him to the celes- tial regions ; and it is even possible for him to ^m » * ! •> ARRIVAL AT GREEN BAY. 95 get lip; — and then to get down again, beneath the arch ; — but it is a giddy task. And it is a still more perilous piece of sport to walk across the arch itself — and yet it has been done, not only by men of nerve, but by boys in their play. In descending near the base of this arch on the right, is a natural tunnel, six feet in diameter, running down some rods through the solid rock, letting out the passengers on the shore below, or by which they may ascend, if they prefer it, to the broad highway under the arch. But in ascending or descending this grand and perilous steep, the adventurer must hug the pointed rocks with the most tenacious adherence, or be precipi- tated and dashed in pieces at the bottom. These two objects are interesting and magnificent speci- mens of nature's masonry. From Mackinaw to the mouth of Fox river, in the North- West Territory, the place of destina- tion — and which is commonly called Green Bay^ after the body of water, at the head of which it stands — our course was south-west, across Lake Michigan, and up the Bay — the whole distance being about 200 miles. We cast anchor in Fox river, opposite the village, or settlement of Green Bay, on the morning of the 10th of August. >^Vit 1 M't' CHAPTER XII. THE INDIAN TRIBES, THEIR POLITICAL RELATIONS, &c. Before we introduce the particular business, intrusted to the Commission, sent to Green Bt v, in 1830 ; and in whose company I happened to be, in tlieir voyage through the Lakes ; it will be quite necessary to the reader's clear understand- ing c** the general and future current of our story — that I should summon his attention to a few remarks on the present condition and poli- tical relations of the Indian Tribes, compreh^^nded within the jurisdiction of the United States; and to the treatment they have generally received, since the occupation of North America by the descendants of Europeans. Just at present, however, I have more especially in view the condition and relations of the Indian Tribes of the State of New York ; although I shall hereafter have occasion to extend my views, by more particular observations, not only of all .'II OSTENSIBLE UISPECT TO INDIAN RKUITS. J)7 the Indians within the ten-itorics of tlie United States; but of those also, who fall under the jurisdiction of the government of (Jreat Britain, in the Canadas. It is sufficient for the present, to remark : — that although there has generally been an ostensible respect paid by Europeans, in their occupancy and gradual encroachments on the territories of North America, to the territorial rights of the aboriginal Tribes, by holding public councils with them, and formally nego- tiating for such of their lands, as have not been acquired by force and conquest; — yet it is a dishonourable truth, not difficult of being made out, that the superior capacity of Europeans, in bargaining and over-reaching, has almost u li- forndy characterized their pretended and formal purchases. The Indians have always been and are now childlike and simple, and from their habitual and total desuetude of the commercial arts, are ever open to commercial impositions. It is well known, that they have been accustomed to resign, by solemn compact, the most valuable and most extensive territories, for mere toys — or for the most trifling considerations. I am aware it may be and is said, that an adequate and fair value rendered, would be of no use to them — that in many, perhaps, in most cases, when VOL. I. F , 1 1 ' Im 1 ^H ^' ' Kw r wri'l Wi ml t ■ 1 m\ ■ w1 ' 1- ,5 ■ i1 1 S ' ' k US THEIR RIGHTS REALLY NOT RESPECTED. inonoy is put to their disposal, it would ever be prejudiciiil to their moral, and thus to their •litical interests. And for tli ipti assunn tliere niin;nt be some apolojjry, if the parental guardianship, at first arrogated, were well and conscientiously sustained throughout. But the misfortune and the crime — is — that a bargain is held as a bargain, with Indians, as with all other nations. The rapid growth and rising prosperity of European colonies in America, and their political and social interests have operated to induce them to forget their parental and moral obligations to the Aborigines. The fact has uniformly been : — that when they have failed to provoke hostilities, and thus to acquire the opportunity of conquest, they have negotiated away the lands of the natives, for the most trifling considerations ; until only a few and small patches are left, that tl^v can call their own, within the territories settled by the whites ; and the ultimate possession of those small tracts is already anticipated by those who covet them. It may be observed respecting the Indians, who fall within the jurisdiction of the United States, that for the most part, the national government asserts the sole right of negociating for their lands. It has happened, however, that W THE PRE-EMPTION KIGIIT. 91) the lands bclonfjing to the smaller tribes of the northern and eastern States, and constMiucntly their political existence and relations, have lonu; since fallen under the control of the State governments, within whose limits they are found. It had also happened, before the ri<(hts ot Indians had been so thoroujfhly discussed, that the pie-eviption right of the individual State> thus concerned, was transferred, or negotiated for valuable considerations to rich capitalists, now corporate companies, and thus converted into a stock, the value of which in the market depends entirely upon the nearer or more remote prospects of the removal of the Indians — in other words, of their ejectment. Of course it becomes the interest of these stock-holders, or pre-emption right companies, to use all possible means of accomplishing the end they have in view ; and from the almost incalculable increase of the value of the stock, they can well aflbrd to be at any expense, that may be necessary. And the actual expense, having been hithert(» successful, still multiplies the value of the investments to an indefinite amount. I cannot venture to specify the amount of increase in th( value of this stock, having no certain data, i>\n) that it has been immense on the original fund : which, in the first instance, was a loan to thc^ . It- 'i I r: I ^1 n Wi i 100 THE OPFRAiION 01 m -: I State, the history of whicli, in its successive changes, I am not able to trace. Tiie Indian huids, thus subjected to the speculations of land- jobbers, have risen in value to an amount that cannot be told, by the increase of the wliite popu- lation with which they are surrounded. This peculiar condition of Indian rights is more par- ticularly applicable to the State of New ^'ork, although it is virtually the same thing, when the right of pre-emption is in the government, only that the government, having a higher re- sponsibility, is likely to be more honourable in its course of negotiation. It is due to the State of New York to say, that in the original negotiations, by which this exclusive right of purchasing Indian lands was resigned to these capitalists, the present operation of it to the disadvantage of the Indians was not anticipated. It may be imagined, however, that the many causes operating upon these Indians to constrain their removal are accidentally thrown very much under the control of those who are interested; and that, when they are obliged to go, as soon they must, — and many of them have already gone, as will yet be seen, — they have no power to bring their lands into an open market, but are compelled to accept of a price, which may THE PRE-EMPTION IlICillT. 101 satisfy the cupidity of the pre-emption right companies — which is a very trifling fraction of their real value at the moment. It is said, indeed, that the Indians are not forced away — that their removal is voluntary. So far as the technicalities of legcd compulsion are concerned, this may be true ; but they are moraUf/ com- pelled ; the causes brought to act upon them to induce this decision, are in fact irresistible. As to the more numerous tribes of Indians, inmiediately connected with the national govern- ment of the United States, and who have larger and more momentous interests at stake, we shall by and by have occasion to notice more particu- larly their relations and prospects. It may in this place be observed generally, that the original principles asserted and the practice pur- sued by those European powers, who first laid their claii .s and their hands upon the American continent, and parcelled it out among themselves, laid the foundation for all the misfortunes of the American Aborigines. Their rights then were no more regarded, than those of the brute creation ; and the arrogance of those claims, and the con- se(iuences resulting from them, will doubtless become more and more the wonder of the world, as society advances, and the rights of all men shall be better defined. They actually formed 'i i' ' J '.'I I It, 102 THE FIRST CLAIMS 01' i '■■ the basis and prescribed the modes of a new con- stitution of society between emigrant Europeans and the aboriginal Americans — a state of society wliich has been in operation for ages, and the unfortunate influence of which will extend for ages yet to come, if it does not thoroughly and for ever annihilate those numerous, interesting, and in many respects noble and manly tribes, whose origin and early history time nor chance has yet unfolded. Society once constituted, on a large and momentous scale, is not easily changed ; and we shall yet have occasion to see, that even the American republicans, in the face and in direct contradiction of their own declared prin- ciples, have entrenched themselves on this original ground to defend their treatment of the Indians. Like African slavery, entailed upon them by the sins of former generations, they have presumed to hold, by the law of prece- dent and the right of prescription, the nobler race of the red men of America, in a con- dition of grievous disadvantage, and subjected them to an unrelieved doom of the greatest in- justice. They plead the high authority of long established national law in relation to barbarians — an apology, indeed, for want of a better reason, but no justification. It was natural, that the treat- ment originally instituted should continue ; the ! 1- ii' EUROPEANS A PRECEDENT. 103 relations first formed, for reasons of State, gra- dually become subject to the inexorable laws of State necessity. V/hat one generation had done, another might think itself authorized, nay, in a manner, might deem itself compelled, to do. The injustice became incorporated with the essential economy and with the ordinary admini- stration of society. Like slavery it could never find a remedy, except in the sacrifice of some great interests, which had long enjoyed the right of prescription ; and reformation, in the practical application of political morality, it is too well known, is but gradually and slowly attained, even after a distinct and public recognition of better principles has been long and universally made. We shall see, that the American Indians are e\ n yet treated most unjustly, and most incon- sistently with recognized principles ; and while we boldly assert the rightful claims of the oppressed, it will be no more than fair to keep constantly in view the ori(i;in and history of the wrong, and the manner in which it has passed from generation to generation. Some recent measures of the American govern- ment, in endeavouring to effect the removal of the Indian tribes on the east of the Mississippi to the west of it, have agitated the public mind in that country to an unprecedented degree, and "m f.r\ 4 .': ': »l: 1^ ■i : ) 10i< DECISION OF THE SUPREME . t ri m^ occasioned the fullest and most public discussion of Indian rights in every possible form ; and although the Supreme Court of the United States, the third and a co-ordinate branch of the government, has finally settled the great prin- ciples of the question to their own honour and to the honour of the nation, and thus far made an atonement to the injured and to the world lor a practical course of injury, wliich, having passed an important crisis, cannot be so easily arrested, even with all the advantages of such a decision— that decision is notwithstanding an event of the greatest importance.* It will have its weight in the nation, and its influence over the world. It is of the highest possible authority, and may fairly be quoted, as an expression of the public opinion of the country, notwithstanding that the accidental combination of certain political causes has transiently sustained a course of administra- tion opposed to it. And although it will be my duty in these pages to expose the injuries done to the American Indians, and to speak with great freedom, as an impartial regard to the common rights of man demands, I am proud to find my- self sustained by the decisions of that venerable It * This decision may be found in the Appendix to the second volume, and the subject treated at large in the text (»t' that volume. i^ COURT or THE UNITED STATES. 10.5 tribunal. What would otliervvise be to the dislionour of my country, and which can never be concealed, I shall the less reluctantly handle, being in such company. The acknowledgment, and if possible, the confirmation of the rights of American Aborigines, is a cause which belongs to all nations; ^' is at least and practically a common cause between the people of Great Britain and the United States, as each of tliese governments has nearly an equal number of this race under its jurisdiction, and is necessarily obliged to legislate for their weal, or woe. I regard the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States, as involving and settling prin- ciples, from which neither of these two nations can in sobriety and justice depart ; and while I shall freely expose any violation of these prin- ciples, that may come in my way, I consider, that I am not only discharging a duty to a long oppressed and injured people, but I am proud, in being able to appeal to the above-named decision of the American Supreme Court, the authority and destined influence of which is at lc;ist as much a subject of national triumpii, as the heretofore injurious treatment done to the In- dians, is a subject of regret — and but for thi.s atonement, an occasion of shame, nay, in any case, a shame. V 3 « I 106 GRHAT BRITAIN AND THE It liappens, as before suggested, that Great Britain is involved in a like responsibility, in regard to American Aborigines, as the govern- ment of the United States, N'^t, that the subject, in the hands of the British government, is in the same shape ; but it is, at best, in a bad shape. These two nations, which ought to cherish the kindest feelings towards each other, and which possess unrivalled powers to benefit mankind, are alike and simultaneously responsible for the exercise of a direct ameliorating influence, by legislation and government, over two unfor- tunate and depressed classes of the human race : the Africans and An^erican Indians. The con- dition of the former class, and the duties which they may rightfully claim from these two Govern- ments, I do not at present undertake to discuss. It is sufficient for my present purpose, and per- haps it may not be deemed improper to state the fact: that, as the British territories, in North America, are very extensive, and all of them peopled by these tribes, they must be numerous ; and many of them so remote in the western and northern regions, that even a tolerably accurate census has probably never yet been obtained. Whether their numbers are equal to those within the jiu'isdictionof the United States, is not mate- rial. I would take liberty here to mention another UNITED STATES BOTH CONCERNED. 101 thing, not because I am solicitous to bring the British government into the same condenuia- tion ; — but yet I am sufficiently informed — that the government of the Canadas is in the habit of assuming and assertinfij the right of remov- ing the Indians, without their consent, from the lands they have occupied frcm time immemorial. It is true, that the British population of the Canadas has never crowded so hard upon the Indians, as the population of the United States ; and consequently has never brougiit their rights so urgently and so publicly in question. And farther : as the government of the Canadas is not accustomed even to moot the question of the territorial rights of the Indians, but assumes the disposal of them, as parents assign a place for their children, in their own discretion, there has been no occasion of controversy — neither is controversy possible, until the Indians are admitted in court, as a party, — unless they resort to the tomahawk. In principle, therefore, and in practice, so far as there has been oc :asion for it, it is unnecessary to say, how much less the government of the Canadas is in fault, in regard to the acknowledg- ment of Indian rights, than the government of the United States ; — except that, the former has never promised, so far as I know, and 'i n m i 5 ■; if : •'1 t K ' I 108 AND BOTH BESPONSIBLE. then violated promise. The rapid extension oi' the population of the Union, and the oM and public enf^agements of the government with the Indian tribes, guaranteeing their rights, have brouglit those rights into public and earnest discussion. And it must be con- fessed, that notwithstanding the public registry of treaties, and notwithstanding the recent solemn decision of the Supreme Judiciary of the nation, definmg and affirming the rights of the Indians in all that they ask, those rights are yet in a train of actual violation. The decision of a Court is not sufficiently active to arrest and turn such an immense tide of injustice in a day. So far, therefore, as there may be any dis- closures in these pages of a dishonourable political character, it will be seen, that they are, in a great measure, equally applicable to the two governments of Great Britain and the United States; — except that, by accidental circumstances, the great question has come earlier to its crisis, under the administration of the latter, than of the former. It is a grave truth, that neither com- munity can say to the other : You are guilty of a great sin in this matter. The world and heaven have laid the charge at the door of each : Ye are both alike responsible, and both guilty. > '■'W CHAPTER Xlll. VINDICATION OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS FROM THE CHARGE OF BEING SAVAGES. Since the world have agreed in attaching a severe and savage cliaracter to the American Aborigines in war ; and as I may yet liave re- peated occasions to develop and describe some- what of these features in the progress of this story ; it is due to that people, that some explana- tions should be made, and that they should realize the benefit of all the apology of the circvmistances in history, which have contributed to form that character. Otherwise they may be robbed of a portion of that sympathy, the full scope of which they have a right to claim. It is no more than fair — it is due to say, that they are not so bad, as these acts of cruelty would seem to indicate. Nay more : they are generally kind — they are often heroically generous. Their domestic cha- racter is tranquil and affectionate ; and their .'. J ., 1 .1 4 ui H r' ^i! \ > ■ u it •^ ;' % i' ) hi I III t m :i: '. m , 11 I 'MS'' 1-: \ 'i no THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS OF liosj)itality is bouiuled only by their slender means of alKording comfort to the stranger. Their fidelity and devotion, when once their faiih is pledged, is unrivalled — it is romantic. They arc not less trur and persevering and heroic in their friendships, than terrible in war. Such is the universal testimony of all, who have ever known them. So kind and amiable are they at home, and in peace, that they invariably secure the tenderest regard of those, who have had oppor- tunity to w^itness these developments of their character. But for their extreme deprivation of the common comforts of civilized communities, it were almost a temptation to those, who have experienced the selfish friendships and the hollow courtesies of a more refined condition of society, to go and take up their abode among them. And the well known fact, that the savage, as he is called, can never be contented to live away from home, whatever munificent and dazzhng offers are made to him — demonstrates most incon- trovertibly, that there are charms in the state of society among the American Aborigines, which have their foundation and their secret in the amiable susceptibilities and kind ofiices of our nature. Habit has its moral power, indeed. But this cannot be the mere force of habit. The indulgence of the bad passions can never Hi 5' ^hki s. m TIIF. INDIAN KIND AND AMIABLE. Ill make man happy. Tliey will Hy tVoni the storm, as soon as they have an opportunity. But the Indian of America will never be contented beyond the bosom of his own tribe — much less in a civilized community. Plant him there, and he is vacant — his eye wanders unsatisfied. Treat him with all possible kindness, and he still remembers with undying regret the kindness of his home. Tempt him by the most attractive oflers — and he will turn from them, and say — " Let me go home." I say, then, that there is a moral secret of an amiable character, that has created these attach- ments. It is not the roughnesses of life, that have thus won and chained under these unyield- ing and indissoluble bonds the domestic affections of the Indian; but it was the long and habitual experience of inartificial kindness — a kindness, of which he could not find even a type in the new condition, to which he had been transferred ; and therefore he sighed for his liOme. How, then, shall we account for the cruelties of the American Aborigines, as attributed to them in the records of then* warfare ? — How can tliese amazing contrarieties of character be reconciled ? — For myself I do not think the task insurmount- able. Nay — it is easy. In the first place, there have been, as always occurs in such narratives. 4 1 v.f ■ ;■-" ■11 ■ _- S r;'i :i -M :' "t '' f ' £19 |r rn ^ ' 'i ! ! ,: 1 lh2 Tin: .SAVA(.E C'HAUACTr.ll OF ations I] jiti ab egregious exaggerr invests the horrible with greater lio-.rors, than wliat legitimately belong to it. But with all the prunings of exact history, it must be confessed, that Indian warfare in America, is horrible enough. And I here undertake the task of explanation — and I will add, of some show of apology. The American Indian, in his wild condition, it must be understood, is, in intellectual and moral culture, a harharian. He is an impro- vident, uncultivated child of nature — prompted to action only by his present necessities. Yet he is a man. He loves comfort and happiness, as much as he can get by the least possible pains ; and while undisturbed by the menaces of foes, his greatest happiness consists in loving and being loved. In all his domestic relations, therefore, he is kind. And in accordance with the same disposition, he is hospitable. Whatever of good, and of the best, that is reckoned such among themselves, belongs to his guest. There is nothing in his power, which he will not sur- render. And all this while his native energies He dormant. He delights in a lazy, indolent existence. When "oused by hunger, he will pursue the chase with wakeful vigilance and in- tense exertion. And when he returns with his iiir: AMr:ui(AN indian artificial. 1 I;» game, lie satiates his appetite, and lies down to sleep, not c'arin«r for the necessities of to-nioirow, or the coming week. His wife and daughters cultivate the corn, and gather the wild rice ; while himself and sons, after intervals of repose, provide their slender larder with venison, and fish, and fowl. But their humble and unenviable condition is yet liable to be annoyed by foes ; and so de- fenceless are they, that surprise is fatal. If they suspect hostilities, from another tribe, or are made aware of such design, they know well, that the annihilation of their enemies is their only security; — and that their own extirpation will be as assiduously sought for. And thus, by the necessities of their condition, vigilance and vengeance become their watchword. The indo- lent savage starts up from his long repose, con- vokes a council of war, and lights the fires of grave and solemn deliberation ; and the purpose being publicly resolved, either in self-defence, or for the avengement of supposed injury, the war-dance is immediately arranged, as the form of enlistment for the enterprise. The reasons of the war are announced to the assembled tribe, with all the peculiar powers of Indian oratory, and by the most impassioned appeals to the excited feelings of the untutored savage ; — and . .1- it >* U I. a ■taJ (I 114 S.\VA(iK PASSIONS KINDLED t P » V ■ if- i .- their ciuMnics are ])ublicly iiiul soloiuiily tievotecl to death and vcn<^eaiico. Tlie pride of tlieir nation, their wives and little ones, their eabins, their lmntiii«( and fishin*^ grounds, their terri- tories elainied l)y the prescriptive ri<^ht of pos- session, the graves and spirits of their lathers — their own lives, dear to all, and now menaced by impending war ; — every fact and circumstance, that is })recio.r-; in present })ossessi(>n, or dear to hope; — all, that belongs to life, and all that is mysterious and awful in religion — are invoked, and !)rought in with all the power of their wih] poetry and savage rhetoric, to shake oil' the lethargies of peace, and kindle the passions for war. The softer feelings arc (pienched, and tlie tender ties of life absolved. The tomahawk is thrown upon the ground, as a gauntlet— and the dissonant sounds of their martial instruments, "grating harsh thunder," mingled with the deej) and hoarse murmiir of the solemn chaunt oi^ the war-song, raised by an awful choir of ventrilo- quists — and every now and then suddenly broken by the sharp and piercing explosion of the fiendly war-whoop; — all dancing and jumping, in utmost disoider, around the fire, naked, painted, and feathered, with tomahawk in hand, each of hideous aspect, and together making a hideous group; — these all, ..id numerous other cha- If BY THE WAR-DANCi:. 115 mctcristie concomitants of tlu; scone, constitute the cliallen' States — especially the older States — are more or less civilized. They are an unoffending, tractable, and docile people And the efforts of the benevolent for their intellectual and moral cultivation, as well as for their improve- ment in the useful arts of life, have been abundantly rewarded — as we shall have occasion to notice. ' I VOL. I. -<: ) 1- t I in ■IB I'^'j; l II CHAPTER XIV. GRADUAL EXTINCTION OF TIIP: INDIAN TRIBES IN THE EASTERN STATES. cS:c. We have already recognised the fact — that the ahoriginal tribes of North America have been compelled to retire before the encroachments of the European occupants of their ancient terri- tories. The district of New England, compre- hending all that part of the American Union, which lies east of Hudson river, except a narrow strip of territory, falling within the state of New York, was originally found tenanted by these tribes. But where are they now i They were once numerous and formidable — they were even rivals in political importance, and in war. A few scores of the Mohecans, are yet to be found in Montville, Connecticut ; and are seen wasting away, and will probably soon disappear, like many other tribes of New England, whose names are almost forgotten. The Narragansetts, of Rhode Island, and some relics of the Peguods, ' ii- GRADUAL EXTINCTION, &c. 1 once the terror and sc(Hirge of the colonists under their politic and famed chieftains, Sassacus and Philip,* are lingering out an expiring existence. Some little and insulated hordes are yet found in the State of Maine. Besides these, there are a few otlier remnants, scattered here and there, hut scarcely known. — Tn all now remain- ing in New England, there are only — 2,57.'3! Alas ! they have had their day — they had their importance — they were a proud race, and be- lieved themselves the best. But where are thev now ? The high Providence of heaven will justify himself— but will he not also require their blood at the hands of their extirpators ? Could they not have been saved ? Undoubtedly they could. The State of New York, which it should be recollected lies immediately on the west and south borders of New England, still retains in its bosom some important relics cf these ancient tribes : a few at Montauk Point, on the east end of Long Island ; — some con: iderable bodies in the heart of the State, near Utica ; — some on the line of Genessee River ; — the Tonewantas, in Genessee County ; — the Tuscaroras, at Lewiston, near Niagara; — and the Senecas, a part of whom are near Buffalo, and others farther up the Lake : * Sassacus was chief of the Pequots ; Pliilip of the Poka- nokets -but sometimes headed the Narragansetts, as allies. r O .' *' 4 1^ ■4, ■1 • * 1 m m 121 GRADUAL KXTINCTIOX :ll \ d' — in all throughout the State: — 5,181! As I sliall have occasion to notice the numcM-ous trihes in other States, and in tlie Western Territories, in another i)lace, T purposely overlook tliem here, for the sake of coming more directly to the field, which is destined to occupy the remainder of this volume. The Indian tribes of New York, like those of other States, retain what are called '' Rcscrva- f /Otis'' of territory, under an assumed guardianship of the commonwealth. These " Reservations " consist of contain lands, which have been found in the actual possession of the Indians, in their last retreats before the incursions of the white man. In the progress of the white settlements, as they have gradually encircled these tribes, it has been found necessary to make surveys and fix the exact boundaries, beyond which the citizens of the State should have no right to tre.'pass — leaving the Indians in possession of territories and privileges, defined by special statutes. So far the parental guardianship of the State over the Indians, has been kind. But it has also happened, in the progress of events, and by the indomitable cupidity of land-jobbers, anticipating the final and thorough ejectment of the Indians, that the pre-empt'i07i right of their territories, under a general supervision of the State, and in consideration of which the State ,.M- n\ OF THE i:ASTi:iiN THIUES. Uo ■it has realized a certain bonus, lias fallen into the hands of corporate companies — as before reco«i;- nised — which necessarily and for ever excludes the Indians from a fair and open market of their lands. No private citizens can negotiate for their territories, as citizens negotiate with one another. It has moreover happened, that the Indians, being good judges of land, have always been found upon the best ; — and consequently, that their reservations are most covetable. Hence, from the cupidity of these pre-emption conn)anies, no pairs have been spared to multiply the cause°, and hasten the occasions of their removal. Inconveniences, restrictions, and annoyances, naturally resulting from their insidatcd condition, and aggravated by the devices of these interested corporations, have been mad^ to bear u})on the tribes so habitually, and so severely, that they have long since began to feel strong inducements to remove into regions, where they might be exempt from these vexatious molestations ; and where they might enjoy privileges more con- genial to their tempers and habits. The attach- ments of the aboriginal Americans to the graves of thiiir fathers is proverbial. " But a perpetual dropping weareth a stone." It was impossible, that even this strong and undying passion, an innate principle, a religious virtue in man, should /'*i ^ ;;I f ' fM 1 K i w«< 126 ADVICE OF DR. MORSE. not ultimately yield to the almost innumerable and the aggravated discomforts of life, of which they have found themselves the subjects in the State of New York, by the causes already adduced. The time had not come, when they could amal- gamate with the citizens. The law allowed them no common rights of citizenship. They are to this moment a proscribed race — liable indeed to the force of special statute, if they oflend ; — but for ever barred from the protection of common law, and excluded from the common rights of the community. Their certain doom, therefore, in remaining on their ancient territories, thus surrounded and thus proscribed, must be a final and inevitable extinction of their tribes. In these unpleasant and hopeless circumstances, the Rev. Dr. Morse, known to the world, not only as a most respectable and useful divine of New England, and as a compiler of Universal Geography, in American Literature — but more recently and still more publicly known, as the author of a Report to the American Congress, on the condition and statistics of the Aborigines ; having been commissioned by that body to travel and collect information on this subject — and returning from his researches in the North-West Territory in 1820, suggested, in the benevolence of his heart, to the chiefs and most influential 4^ ADVICE OF DR. MORSE. 1J3" men of the New York Indians — wliosc removal at that time botli poUcy and benevolence seemed to recommend — that the territory above mentioned would be a suitable retreat for the Indians of that State ; and recommended to them to open negotiations with the general Government for that purpose. *' That,'' said the Rev. Doctor, " is in all respects a country to be desired by Indians. It is a mild climate — the land is good, the forests full of game, and the lakes and rivers abounding with fish. The region itself is not only remote from the territories claimed by llie individual States ; but it is in the exclusive occupancy of Indian tribes, and destined in the plan of the national government for that purpose. Be- sides, it is vast, and not only sufficient for the tribes already there, but more than sufficient for all your purposes and theirs. There you need not fear the encroachments of the white man. Go — and look. Hold a council-fire with the wild nations, which now occupy the territory. Tell them, you are their brothers, come from the rising sun — and that you want a place among them ; and when they shall have agreed to receive you in peace, the government of the United States will for ever guarantee to vour- selves and your children such possessions, as your brethren there may agree to award for your t ' % H :4 ..,», •J \ '"^M [28 ADVICE OF DR. MORSE. Itl' I \i ' \ 4 III inheritance. You will never again be Jisturbetl. The white man will never go there. He will never desire those lands. They are too far off. And besides, there is a natural boundary, the great Lakes, to defend you for ever from such incursions. Sell your lands here — take what is necessary of the money to satisfy the native tribes of those regions, for giving you a home, and put the rest in the hands of your great Father, at the city of Washington, who will keep it safely for your use. Here you can no longer live in com- fort. Go yonder, and prosper. The Govern- ment wish you to go tliere. A? vou have long been in friendship with the President of the United States, and as you have acquired much of the manners and arts of civilized life, your lather., the president, knows, that you will help hini keep the peace with those wild nations ; and that you will there be a benefit to him, and he can be a benefit to you. He will protect and defend you, and secure you for ever in all your rights ; — and you may be the means of raising thos^: nations, along with your own progressive improvement, under the fostering hand of the President, to civilization and happiness." * * Of course I do not pretend to quote literally, but merely to give the substance of what was said in these interviews, as narrated to me by the chiefs. The advice was taken and acted upon, and led to momentous results — as will appear. I? 4 11' \ %. % lli: ■; 15* ■ CONCURRENCE OF GOVERNMENT. 12[) The Reverend Doctor was sincere in liis ad- vice — he was honest — he gave it out of the benevolence and fulness of his kind heart. lie did not even imagine, that in less than ten years, even after these solemn stipulations should have been consummated, and the parties entered upon the possession of their inheritance, a plan would be laid to erect that very territory into a member of the Federal Union, and to eject these emigrant Indians, together with the ancient and native tribes, into other and unknown regions ! Animated by these reports and representa- tions from so venerable and worthy a man, the authorities of the New York tribes opened a correspondence with the official organs of the Government at Washington ; and Mr. Monroe, President of the United Stntes, ordered the proper authorities to execute letters of appro- bation, and to atibrd all needful facilities to the chiefs of the Indians of the State of New York : — first — in accomplishing a visit of inspection to the North - West Territory, and in holding a friendly council with the tribes of those regions, to open their designs, and to confer mutually on the great purpose ; — and next, if they shouhl succeed in negotiating with the native tribes, to supervise and facilitate the arrangements, so that nothing on the })art of Government o3 r-.i ' >\ i I IK If I' 130 NEW YORK INDIANS li should be wanting in the attainment of their object. It is proper here to observe, that the govern- ment of the United States have ever been accus- tomed to recognise in principle and in form the right of the Indian tribes over the territories, of which they are found in actual possession and use. But as the Government asserts a general jurisdiction within all the boundaries settled be- tween itself and other civilized powers, it claims a supervision in all negotiations of territory be- tween lie Indian tribes themselves, and requires its own approbation and seal to ratify them. The Government also disallows of all negotiations of lands directly from Indians to private citizens, and asserts the pre-emption right. These rules '^re alike applicable to the claims of the general Government, in relation to Indian territories wii/ioid the bounds of the several States, and to the claims of the individual States, in relation to Indian territories within their bounds ; — except in such cases, where the supervision of Indian territories within the States, still vests in the general Government by the force of original right and unaltered covenants. In 1821 and 1822 successively, delegations of the New York tribes, composed of the Rev. Mr. Williams and other chiefs, visited the North- If AGREE TO REMOVE. l.Jl West Territory, and succeeded to their satistac- tion in negotiating with the native tribes, under the full authority and approbation of the Presi- dent of the United States — accompanied by an agent of government to supervise the transac- tions. The New York tribes entered into solemn treaties with the tribes of the North-West, pur- chased of them specific territories for specific and valuable considerations ; and laid the foun- dation, as was hoped, for a general and speedy removal of all the Indians of New York into that territory. The President of the United States became a party to the engagements, and ratified all the transactions, and duly certified copies were deposited in the proper office at Washington, and left in the hands of the parties. And it was officially and distinctly stated, as the purpose of Government, and a pledge to that effect given — that white men should be excluded from that territory. This pledge was given, as a motive to induce the New York Indians to emigrate — inasmuch as the Government had an interest in settling them there, that tlicir good example might have a happy influence on the native and more untutored Indians. There were also political reasons for getting them out of tlie State of New York — reasons, operating be- tween the State and national Governments — and I i| \32 THE NATUME OF THE *•! ■Ss:' reasons, such as the )re-emption companies, in the way of influence, were able to wield. The Stockbridge tribe sold their lands, and removed almost immediately, The Oneidas, with Mr. Williams at their head, did the same. The Brothertons began to make their arrange- ments to follow. And all proper inducements were gradually operating on the minds of the other tribes, who had not at first taken so deep an interest in the enterprise, and who were more reluctant to engage in it. They were not so immediately under the influence of Mr. Williams, who had been the main-spring of the movement, and whose enlarged mind and foresight had thoroughly comprehended all the disadvantages of their condition, and the destiny to which they must be doomed in the State of New York. But under the auspices of these arrangements, their prospects were now brightened. A new and interesting field of Indian society and of Indian empire, remote from the encroachments and de- fended against the incursions of the white man, and under all the improvements of civilization and the advantages of Christianity, opened be- fore them. The government of the United States was pledged to maintain the engagements between the tribes themselves, to defend their rights against the cupidity of citizens from the r UNDERSTANDING. \3S States, and to lend all convenient aid in pro- moting their general improvenie/it. It was in- deed an interesting and a hopeful vision. The day of their redemption seemed nigh at hand. A wide and bcautifid country, well suited to the nature and habits of the Indian, far off beyond the inland seas, skirted on the east by the long and wide bosom of Michigan, a good natural boundary between the Indian and the white man ; promised for ever by the faith, and for ever to be defended by the arm, of a great nation, as the home and sanctuary of the hitherto abused and persecuted children of the forest ; their great father, the President of this nation, engaging to keep the peace among themselves, if any of them should quarrel, as their fathers in their wild con- dition had been accustomed; — promis..ig to send them implements of agriculture and of all the useful arts of civilization, and teachers of their children, and ministers of the religion of the white man, to point them the way to the white man's heaven; — and promising to • atch with parental tenderness over all their interests, po- litical and social, and to raise them as high in character and in hap})iness, as their white brothers, who sit under the protection and enjoy the privileges of the same good Government. Such were the promises, and such the prospects m tin 'i-r 134 EXPECTATIONS. til uis I I I held out to the chiefs and tribes of the New York Indians, a httle more than ten years ago, when they consented to resign the home of their fathers, and began to remove into the territories of the North-West. Tliey had ah*eady began to plant their villages and raise their cabins on the beautiful banks of the Fox River; — they had formed interesting and friendly alliances with the wilder and untutored tribes of their newly adopted country ; — all were agreed and resolved to cultivate the arts and manners of civilization; — their confidence of future repose and exemp- tion from the incursions of white men was un- broken ; — and all their prospects were bright, as the sun which made their corn to grow, and re- freshing as the showers which softened the rich soil, in which it was planted. The aged chief, smiling out of his care-worn and anxious counte- nance, blessed his tribe for their goodly inheri- tance, and touched the harp of joyous prophecy over the hopeful future, and dying, said — " Now is mv soul satisfied." The father told his chil- dren — '' Now we have a home — we shall not again be driven away." The mother smiled more sweetly on her infant — and the stripling in sympathy caught the feeling of general satisfaction, and went more joyously to his sports. DISAPPOINTMENT. 18.3 But — where is the faith, that can bin J the selfishness, or restrain the reckless and unprin- cipled enterprise of man? A Goveriunent may give their pledges in all honesty, and their own citizens may undermine the sacred foundations, and violently dissolve the tics — or another king may arise in the land, that shall have forgotten Joseph. It is difficult for any, who know not how by actual observation, to appreciate the rapidity, with which the western territories of the United States have been entered and possessed by emi- grants from the East. It is not twenty years, since the great value and importance of the peninsula of Michigan, lying between the sea of the same name on the west and Huron on the east, was generally unknown. And if we have been rightfully informed, a Committee of Con- gress, in less than that time since, having been appointed for the express purpose of inquiring into the value of that territory, and taking their evidence on common rumour, reported, that it was not worth giving away ; — and that it would be an imposition and a cruelty, to bestow upon the disbanded soldiers of the army, as was pro- posed, a bounty of lands in such a worthless tract. And yet at this moment, that very peninsula is crowded with a population sufficient to claim ■ \ 1 1 -^ i ? ( t- • * 136 SUPPOSED SCHEME lOR admission, as a separate and independent mem- ber of the Federal Union ; — and is destined doubtless soon to make one oi'the most flourishing of the United States. The North-West Territonj, consecrated, as already re* ^jni i^ to be the home of the Indian, the sanctuai V : i 'i;^. rights, and tlie place of ex- periment for i.idiari '»ciety and Indian empire, is but one step beyond the territory of Micliigan. And that same spirit of enterprise, which found out the latter to be a desirable country, has also discovered the former to be such. As I cannot imagine, that those, who have taken the lead, in disturbing the condition and blighting the prospect of the Indians at Green Bay, could be ignorant of the understanding that existed, or of the arrangements, that had been made, with the general Government — I shall take the liberty of supposing, that their reasonings and purposes were substantially as follows : — " What right had the President of the United States to award this country to the Indians — and thus shut up the door to diis desirable and beau- tiful region against the enterprise of our citi^'.ens i Is this wide and rich territory, which in twenty years might make one of the first of these Confe- derate Republics, to be doomed to the possession BREAKING UP THIS NEW ARLANOEMENT. 1.37 of those indolent savages, who will never use it for the proper purposes of human society i There is no reason in it. God designed, that the earth should be cultivated, and that man should make the most of it ; and those, who will not use it, as was intended by the Creator, must give place' to those, who have more virtue. And be- sides, there is no difficulty in managing these Indians. They are a simple and credulous peop^^. We can sow dissensions anions them. We c.in make the wild tribes quarrel with their adc^; '^d neighbours ; and bring them all together uei-^ve their great father — (as they call him) — the ^Presi- dent — and make at least one party say : * \ . e are dissatisfied. We wish the agreement to be broken up. We do not like our brothers from New York. And we wish our great father to send them back again.' And moreover, there have been some improprieties and informalities, com- mitted in their engagements, which may be im- peached, and render them null and void. We can show, that the New York Indians have been guilty of overreaching, in their bargain with the natives, and have acquired more land, than the value of the considerations rendered. The trans- actions will not bear investigation. We can use this, first, to awaken jealousy and irreconcileable feeling in the one party ; —and next, to disturb and m\ l;38 THE RESULT r 1. . I; n I •1 I '■i, invalidate the rights of the other. And having once reduced the quantity of land, claimed by the New York Indians to a small patch, such as they had before they removed, by threatening them with the loss of the whole ; — and having brought our own settlements around them and hemmed them in — they will be reduced to their former necessity of removing again for existence. And as for these wild tribes, there will be no difficulty in getting rid of them. We can at any time persuade them for a trifle to sign a qiftt claim to their territories." I have here summed up, in a few words, what I suppose to have been the substance of the reasons, which have operated to blast the pros- pects of the associated Indian tribes of the North- West Territory, within the last ten years ; and which have opened and destined that region of country shortly to make another of the Inde- pendent States of the American Union. I do not pretend to say, that any number of particular individuals can be named who have all the responsibility of this procedure. Who can find the conscience, that shall be held answerable for a deed, which has been done by so many hands \ And yet it has been done — and the responsibility must attach somewhere ; and there are many con- spicuous individuals, who have had a large share in it. Heaven forefend; that the whole community OF THE PLAN. 131> of the United States should be held answerable for this ! The entire plan, comprehended in the supposititious argument of the last paragra})!!, has been actually executed ; — that is, so far as time and circumstance wouiu allow. And the rest may easily be anticipated. The New York In- dians and the native tribes have been brought to quarrel with each other, through the inliuence of persons interested in the removal of both ; — their covenants have been impeached, and set aside, as unwortliy of respect: the pending controversy has been embarrassed in every possible Ibrm ; — it has gone up to the city of Washington, again and again, and received judgments from e,i'])arte testimony ; — advantage has been taken of the ignorance of one president in respect of the doings of his predecessor, and false informations carried to his ear and made to influence his deci- sions; — Commissions of investigation, and clothed with authority to institute new and final arrange- ments, have been sent upon the ground, which have disregarded and trampled upon the rights of the Indians, — and their reports and recommen- dations have been respected. And now r.nother president, and a new administration have come to power, whose avowed policy is to remove «//the Indian tribes west of the Mississippi; and who are using all possible endeavours to accomplish I m V \ ';; 140 THE RESULT OF THE PLAN. it. And it was under this administration, tliat the Commissioners from tlie general Govern- ment, on board the Sheldon Thomson, in August 1830, as before mentioned, were on their way with instructions to investigate and with authority to settle these controversies ; — in other words — to get rid of the Indians, and to satisfy those, who wanted their huids. I do not mean by tliis to impeach tlie Commissioners per.sonullij, as having such a design. But such was the nature of their instructions, that whatever they should do in obedience to them, must tend to that result. Indeed the whole matter had been previously settled on the premises, by other Commissions, and got into such a condition and such shapes, and so much regard was paid to the final object — that the Commission of 1830 was rather a mere pretence and mockery, than any thing else. It was keeping up the show of justice, while no justice was intended by those, who moved the wires behind the scenes. Indeed, it was then too late to do justice. The purpose had already been resolved, and the wound inflicted for a plural number of years ; and it was now well under- stood, that the North-West Territory must become a separate and organized Government, and a candidate for admission into the Union. It is not, therefore, on account of the importance and TIIK Ur:ASON OF THIS N'ARR \TIVF.. 141 evontfulncss of the doings oftliis Commission, in themselves considered, tliat I have chosen to notice the scene of their lahours ; — hut inasmuch as it presents a very fit occasion for a fjeneral de- velopement of tliis species of injustice done to the American Ahorif;ines, and is equally good for that purpose, as any other ; — and inasnmch as it offers a rare exhibition of Indian character, cultivated and uncultivated, and discloses their habits, manners, sympathies, and hopes, in ways and under modi- fications, uncommonly lively and picturesque; — and more especially because I ha})pened to be an eye-witness of the events; — I have selected it, as worthy of minute and circumstantial detail.* ! '« ! * To show how little the disturhance of these Indians, in their new abode, North-West Territory, was anticipated, and the benevolent wishes of those, who desired to confirm them in this retreat, I would here introduce some of the remarks of Dr. Morse in his Report to Congress. It may be observed, that the Doctor had been appointed an agent of Government, with instructions to visit remote tribes, and collect all pvissible information respecting them — to report the result of his obser- vations, and to recommend any measures, which might seem to him desirable to be adopted for the welfare of the Indians. "The v nectation is," says the Doctor, when ])reparing his Report, " t at a great part of the Stockbridge Indians, with numbers of the St. Regis tribe, of the six nations, of the Munsees, Nainicokes, Delavvares, and others, in the course of the next season, 1822, will emigrate and plant themselves on this purchase (in the North- West Territory, wliich had been made pursuant to the Doctor's recommendation.) Should this. St '■fl U2 DR. MORSE S iT'" ■'^-' t.'iko place, a colony will be formed at once, and a current to it created ; and shoidd its foundations be broad and laid with wisdom, there is little doubt of its gradual increase. Should the plan be popular with the Indians, (and the prospect is, that it will be) a lar^e colony, enough perhaps to form a territory,* or a State, may be ultimately collected here, educated together, and received into the L'nion, and to the enjoyment of the privileges of citizens. '* Let regulations b.- made to prohibit the introduction of white settlers within the limits of this territory — that is: within limits houndeil south by Illinois, east by Michigan, north by Superior, and west by the J^fissi.ssip/)i. Let this territory be resrrred exclu- sively for Indians, in which to make the proj)ost'd experiment of gathering into one body, as many of the scattered and other Indians, as may choose to settle there — to be educated, become citizens, and in due time, to be admitted to all the privileges conmion to other territories and States of the Union. Such a course would probably save the Indians." The following is an article of a treaty made between theOovern" mcnt of the United States and the Delaware tribe in 1788: — Art. (». "Whereas the enemies of the I nited States have endeavoured by every artifice in their })ower, to possess the Indians in general with an opinion, that it i^ he design of the States aforesaid to extirpate the Indians, and take possession of their territories: — to obviate such false suggestions, the United States do engage to guarantee to the aforesaid nation of Delawares and their heirs, all their territorial rights in the fullest and most ample manner, as they have been bounded by former treaties, as long as: the said Delaware nation shall abide by and hold fast tlie chain of friendship now entered into. And it is further agreed between the contracting parties, — should it for the future be found conducive to the mutual interests of both parties, — to invite any other tribes who have been friends of the United States, to join the present confederation and to form a State, whereof the Delaware nation shall be the head and have a representation in Congress, ^.c." * A '1 rritorial Govermiu'iit in Americn. is substantially Colonial. . r^ %\ RECOMMENDATION. 143 I quote tliis article merely to show, that a ])lan like Dr. MovJ^e's had, at so early a period, entered into the views of the Ciovernnient. " Should the expectation raised," says the Doutor, " in regard to this project be realizetl in a o;ood dep;ree, I should think this the idace (the North-West Territory) for the ultimate establishment of the Indian College, which, in time, might be provided whli Indian oflicers and instructors, as well a? students, and have their own trustees to manage its concerns. And if our Itrethren in Canada shall be disposed to unite with us in this grand and desirable object, and make the institution common for the benelit of the Indians on both sides of the line, which separates us, as one College might be sutHcient for !)oth — large funds, I am informed by a letter received while I am writing this article, exist in England, designed expressly for an object of this kind.* " Should it be tliouglit expedient, and be found practicable, to collect the remnants of tribes now scattered and lanKuishino; and wasting away among our white population, and to colonize them for the purpose of preserving them frouv extinction, and of educating them to the best advantag*?, and with the greater economy — some portions of this territory (the North- West) will, I think, unciuestionably be found better suited to these objects, than any other in our country — and as suck I dcliheratcly re- commend litem to the attention of Government '^ "This," says Mr. Sargeant, a missionary among those Indians, " was a plan of Dr. Morse's. — (Their removal from the State of New York to the North- West Territory.) Wo understand^the general Government are pleased, and have con- firmed the title. Means will now be used to obtain a law of Congress to exclude spirituous ii(juors and white heathen from Green Bay." • This letter nsserts, that tlie annual interest of a fund, f^'ianted in Uit reign k.I' (jeorge II. Air " CivilizinL,' and Christianizing tiu- Indians df Xew England," anniunts to ahout lO.OOn/. — and t!iat it is not appropriated. It niiglu Ite interesting to iiKjuire after it. I n Ik mh: (HAP. XV. THE DESIGN OF THE COMMISSION OF 1830 TO GREEN BAY, &c. As Green Bay is to constitute an important scene of our observations, it may be proper to remark, that tlic uime designates the settlement at the mouth of Fox Ri'i,'r, at the liead of tlie Vdi'ffv bay, bearing this name, and connected with Lake Michigan. It is also generally understood, as comprehending an indefinite amount of terri- tory in that region. It constitutes the port, or opening from the east to the north-west in that direction. The two great sections of territory falling under the jurisdiction of the United States, known by tlie names of Michigaji and the North-West, and which for many years have been compre- hended under one Territorial Government, of which Detroit is the seat, have gradually assumed no inconsiderable political importance, actual and prospective, in the American Union; and since DESIGN OF THE COMMISSION. 11.5 it has been foreseen and resolved, that each of them will make a conspicuous and important member of the General Union, they have respec- tively claimed and realized their share of influence at the City of Washington. In the management of those territories, it has been a matter of neces- sity, in the first place, that the Government should act upon the representations of their commis- sioned agents in that quarter ; — and next, tlioj?e agents have been com))elled to yield to the influence of the interested individuals, who have been tempted to lay the foundations of theii future wealth and importance in those distant re- gions. Notwithstanding, that President AToin'oe had pledged Green Bay, as the home and sanc- tuary of the Indians, which was not only the key of the North-West Territory, but compiehended all its importance ; — yet it was well known, that an Act of Congress was necessary to secure that object. In the meantime the Government has gone into other hands, and become wiser— at least has blindly acted in obedience to the suggestions of the interest of individuals. Men from the North- West have instructed the Government how to instruct their agents, in the management of these Indian affairs. It was hardly possible that men, sitting in their offices at ^^'ashington, should understand the merits of these Indian claims : VOL. I. H \\G DESIGN OF THE COMMISSION h t U I. 1' '.■ 1 ' especially if they did not take the trouble to look into the file of public documents, ^vhich recorded and sealed them. As every government has its numerous ramifications and distant props of de- pendency, they might be more interested in gra- tifying citizens in that quarter, than maintaining the rights of Indians, who are not citizens. And besides, the Indians, simple and confiding in their nature, rested in confidence on the public compacts, which had been executed in their favour ; while the citizens around them were alert and assiduous in accomplishing their ob- jects. The Indians never imagined, that there was any thing lame, or informal, or improper in the instruments, on which they relied, until tliey found themselves undermined by a train of interested and political maneuvering. Anil by this time, it is vain to sue for the redemption of the pledge of President Monroe who is not only out of power, but out of the world; — and which, it is asserted, was only the pledge of an individual, that he had no warrant to give. The North- ^^'est Territory must be a State, and these In- dians, who had possessed themselves, as they supposed, and as all concerned supposed at the time, in a regular and rightful course, of the key ind heart of the country, must be got out of the way. TO GREEN RAY. 147 To consummate this object, the previous steps of which had been before arranged, the Commis- sion of 1830 was sent to Green Bay. It is due, liowever, to the members of that Commission to say: — that their conduct on the occasion suffi- ciently proved, that tliey had never understood the real nature of the errand, before they entered upon it; — and that they never manifested per- sonally, or as a court, any willingness to do injustice to the Indians. They found, indeed, on their arrival, that tliey had got an unpleasant business upon their hands — a business involved, and comphcated, and embarrassed, beyond the possibility of disentanglement — and yet claiming their efforts to try to do something. They were not only embarrassed by the case itself, even if they had been invested with a full and unlimited discretion ; but they were greatly embarrassed by their instructions, the forms and scope of which had evidently received their shape in accorda? 'c with the plan of an ultimate ejectment ot he Indians. Nor is it to be inferred, that the (io- vernment, as such, was privy to such a dt >ign. We do not believe it was so, in moral 'ent. We cannot think it capable. It was suflicRntly apparent, that during the whole course of John Quincy Adams's administration, the Governmeiit at Washington did not understand the case. Bui H 2 1 IS IGNORAXCF. OF GOVEIIXMENT things in relation to this aflliir, were permitted to go on, as recommended by the government agents in that quarter. And it was hardly possible to do otherwise, so long as the Indians did not know how to manage their own case, and were inca- pable of prosecuting it, so as to thwart the purposes of their adversaries; or else were unin- formed of what was doi))i!;. Neither is it to be supposed, that the present administration, not- withstanding their general policy is unfavourable to Indian rights, understood the merits of this question. It was too complicated, and too far beyond the field of their observation, to make it possible. They had other, and to them more impoitant concerns, to occupy them. The in- structions had evidently been dictated and drawn up by a hand, which had previously had some- thing to do with ilie matter ; and which was capable and disposed to give them a shape to suit the purposes of those who are opposed to the Indians' claims. Nor was there any thing on the foceof the instructions, calculated to startle the mora! sew^ o( those unacquainted w^th the his- tory Of' the pre. ious <^^ransactions. They even had the apinaraiice of kindness, and of impartiality. The Go\xr, ment of the United States, therefore, ^niay and oi ;ht to be actjuitted of knowingly con- "•entinir to tiiiS iniuvv, even down to the time of OF Tin: STATE OF TI»E CASK. Ill) C«l the Commission of 1830. That they have not liad opportuniti) oiuce that :inie to know, cati hardly be said — as will appear iii the secjuel. ^^'e do not say, they were released from all responsibility. That could not be. But it cannot be supposed, that they would ever consent to such flagrant injustice, with their eyes upon it. Such things are never done openly. It is easy to conceive, and there is no doubt, that the faith pledged by President Monroe to the New York Indians, when tliey agreed to remove to Green Bay, v.as carefully kept out of sight, in the correspondence between the subsequent administrations and their agents in the Nortli-West ; and that the public documents, attesting it, were suffered to lie un- disturbed upon the files, to which they had been consigned. The history of the whole affair is briefly this : — Under the auspices of President Monroe and the Governor of Michigan in the years 18i,M-'i^?, the chiefs of the New York tribes entered into friendly alliances with the tribes of the North- West, and made purchases of territory, as agreeil upon and defined by themselves in mutual council, for certain valuable considerations, specified in the articles of covenant, and in due time dis- charged. The real value and the propriety ol' 150 HISTORY OF THE 3j,r . > r ; r< 1 9 ii the considerations promised and rendered to bind the sale and secure tlie purchase, cannot be estimated by the rules, which govern a similar contract among the whites ; — inasmuch as the whites have one object and the Indians another in the use of land. The value of land in the market of the whites is graduated by the pro- bable proceeds of its future occupation and culture, in their own way of managing it. The same rule, applied to the habits of Indians, would of course reduce the value, as represented by money, indefinitely and very greatly. Indians make little money, and need little ; and as it was never expected, nor designed by the parties, that this land should come into the market of the white man, the only fair rule of estimating it in this con' act, was its value among Indians. Ac- cording to this rule, there is nothing to show, that the New York Indians have not paid the full value of the lands, which they claim to have purchased. They satisfied the second party in the stipulation. It was all they asked; and it was doubtless as much as it was worth, under the prospects, and according to the policy of tiie contracting parties. Since the territory has been seized by the whites, and acquired the accidental value, present and prospective, which all such property has in their hands — the price ocipulated TITLK IN DISrUTF,. 151 and rendered by the New York Indians lias beta adduced by their adversaries to invalidate the purchase, and prove it a fraud ; — than which nothing could be more unfair. Besides — as it was an avowed policy of the njwly associated tribes to keep away the white man; — as the letters of Government had specifi- cally recommended, that the contemplated nego- tiations should have this object in view ; — and as the New York Indians were better accpiainted with the ways of white men, by having lived among them ; — it was judged expedient, that their deeds of purchase should include a mucli larger territory, than what they wanted for them- selves, or pretended to pay for ; — and that they should hold this additional quantity of land, not as their own, but in trust for common occupancy and use, and to defend it from the whites. The wild tribes were liable to be imposed upon. The New York Indians, having had a long school of experience, and having become civilized, were more wary and competent. Nothing could have been wiser than this arrangement. Those, who know any thing of Indian character, kno\r also, that the New York Indians were utterly incapable of the dishonesty, which has been attributed to them in this affair. Their faith was as sound and as pure, as the faith of angels. Yet has this 1 1 152 MEASURES TO INVALIDATE very measure, adopted at the sun;gestion of Govern- ment authority, been employed to dissolve their covenants, and annihilate their rights. Not only has it been employed, as a presumption of dis- honesty before the world, but, in conjunction with all other possible and false occasions, it has been assiduously applied to awaken jealousy, dis- satisfaction, and bitter animosity, in the bosoms of those tribes, wlio had wisely agreed to this expedient. ' Tlie New York Indians have got your lands, and they'll drive you away' — it was said to them : * Demand a restoration, and we'll give you a fair price for what we want, and which is of little value to you — and you will still have enough left for all your purposes of hunting and fishing. We are vour friends. The New York Indians are your enemies.' And they were per- suaded ; and the sequel is in a rapid progress of fulfilment. The wild tribes of the North-West Territory will soon be thrown beyond the Mis- sissippi — and what will become of them there, remains to be proved. The New York Indians, who had but just resigned their homes in the east for a secure abode in the west, already re- duced to a little patch of territory, will soon be entirely surrounded and hemmed in, and vexed and annoyed, as they were before they removed. And what will they do then? Prophecy itself Tlin TITLF,. cannot divine — except, tluit their prospects are by no means enviable. And why, it is asked, does not Government prevent tliis ? I have ah'eady supposed, what 1 believe to be the faci : that (iovernment has never yet seen it in its true light. All governments of weighty cares are slow to discern and redress the thousand petty, yet grievous oppressions, that are done within their jurisdictions. Tlie poor and simple cannot find ways and means for a hearing; and they are always anticipt^'.cd by their op- pressors — so that when their cause is admitted, there is little chance of redress. And has tliis matter never gone to the ear of Government ? It has been attempted ; and I have already intimated, how uniformly the aggrieved have been foiled. Besides, a new and general plan of re- moving all the Indians iarther west, is in the way. It is impossible in the present order of things — and probably in any supposable order — that this injustice should be arrested. There may possibly come in enactments of indemnifica- tion ; — but the question is decided — that the Indians can never inherit the North- West Ter- ritory. It is too late. It is decreed to rise and stand an independent member of the Fcdernl I nion. II o IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. V] 7 y >^ 1.0 I.I 11.25 |Z8 y^ 1.4 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. U580 (716) 873-4S03 II 'ii m «tt|L 1 M ^^H 1 i 1 fl 1^ 1 1-ff '(.1 i '*.' > f. '' 'h, « ir Hi I, 9' CHAPTER XVI. BURNING OF DEERFIELD IN MASSACHUSETTS, AND MASSACRE OF ITS INHABITANTS, cS;c. " The history of the world," said one, " is a history of crime and calamity." And if we may put a commentary on this, it doubtless means, that its most notable features are of this description. The peaceful and even tenor of a particular community, or of the grand community of nations, makes brief chapters of history ; — and for this reason : — that the interest of the record is in the inverse proportion to the comfort, which the facts narrated have brought to man- kind. However libellous the charge, the human mind loves excitement, and delights more in the review of deeds of blood and of the disasters occasioned by the conflict of the physical ele- ments of the universe, than of the achievements of benevolence and the security and happiness of society. The detail of the actual misery, inflicted by the strifes of nations, is always I 1:1 BURNING or DEElUiLLD. 1 .;.5 private ; and imposes itself upon })iiblic observa- tion, only by the s\vellii^<^ of its frightful agi^regatc. The most remarkable incidents of private life, and the most atrecting features of private cala- mity, are almost entirely excluded from the notice of the general historian, by the very design and necessities of his task. These make the wide and various field, and constitute the exhaustless materials of the dramatist, the tragedian, and tin* writer of romance. This is, indeed, the gran^l monopoly of this class of writers — the province of authentic biography excepted. In the old French war, as it is called in America, (for every country lias its own aimals, the common allusions of which arc best under- stood at home) the town of DeerHeld in Massa- chusetts, which was then a frontier settlement, became a prey to Indian pillage and massacre. It is understood, that this event happened in the early history of what were then called the Britisli colonies of North America. The awful night, when the Indian war-whoop broke the repose of the peaceful inhabitants of that village, consigned its humble tenements to the blaze of the fire- brand, and its fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters, and helpless infancy, to indiscrimi- nate massacre, or to painful captivity, is still fresh in the recollections of traditionary narrative, .•J I »' 1 1 •I » 1 .jG MASSACRE OF DEERFIELD. m ' t j_ - W' % 1 i' ' 'r t >; ' r I* ' I 11 and stands recorded on the authentic paj^cs of the early history of New England. The place itself is indeed at present one of the most secure abodes, and one of the pleasantest and sweetest towns in the Vale of the Connecticut, the long line of the grateful territory of which, has been celebrated by a native poet, whose verse offers to my recol- lection the following couplet : — " No rays of sun on happior valliL's shine, Nor drinks the sea a lovelier wave than thine." But the burning and massacre of Deerfield will never be forgotten. An Indian assault, when victorious, and Indian vengeance, are terrible beyond imagination to conceive. In war mercy is no attribute of the Indian's breast. One of the solemn and sacramental acts of his enlist- ment, is publicly to absolve himself from all clemency towards his enemies ; and the more merciless the inflictions of his cruelty on man, woman, and child, the greater his glory, and the more sure his reward. The implorings of help- less age, the cries of the tender female, the be- seechings of the mother, and the sudden terror of her wakened infiint, are music to his ear ; — and all the scene of his burning and carnage, a provocation to his appetite for blood. The cap- tive he leads away he doats upon, as the future m THE INFANT CAPTIVK. i: Ji and more public victim of his dire revenge ; and if perchance the tender object of his future .sacri- fice sinks under the fatigues of the way, lie Hfts liis hatchet, and brings the victim to the earth, and snatches and bears away the scalp, as his trophy. Among the families, which fell victims to the massacre of DeerHeld, was that of the Kev. Mr. Williams, the pious uid exemplary pastor of the Hock, consigned to his spiritual charge, in that frontier settlement. His youngest child, an in- fant daughter, was snatclied from the cradle, and borne away a captive; and by accident falling in charge of an Indian wom -J i» life. And this is always tliu first stage of education, with the children of the rich as of the poor. Those, who are ahle, and who choose to extend the education of their children, having passed them through this common course — the privileges of which are always near their own doors — send them ahroad to select schools, and to the university, if they are destined for the learned professions, or the higher conditions of life. It happened, that the author, in his school-boy days, fell into the same district with these Anglo- Indian lads, FJeazer Williams and his brother John. On the first few days of their appear- ance in the school-room, they were as much the objects of curiosity with the other children, as they and their father were with the congregation at church. From the wildness of their nature and habits, it was necessary for the master to humour their eccentricities, until they might gradually accommodate themselves to discipline ; and but for the benevolent object in view, and the good anticipated, it was no small sacrifice to enduie the disorder, which their manners at first created. Unused to restraint, and amazed at the orderly scene around them, they would sud- denly jump up, and cry, Unqjh ! or some other characteristic and guttural exclamation, and then ^ii ii % \ '• 53 iiKV. eli:azi;h wii.r.iAMs. It;.; poiliaps spring across (he room, and niak( a true Indian assault upon a child, on whom they had lixed their eyes, to his no small affright and con- sternation ; — or else dart out of the house, and take to their heels in such a direction, as their whims might incline them. Conlinement they could ill endure at first ; and so long as they did nothing but create disorder, (and that they did very effectually) they were indulged — until by degrees, they became used to discipline, and began to learn. Their first attempts by imitation to enunciate the names of the letters of the iioman alphabet, were quite amusing — so difficult was it for them to form their tongue and other organs to the proper shapes. If the children of the school laughed, (as there was some apology for doing) these boys would sometimes cast a contemptuous roll of the eye over the little assembly, and then leaving an '* Utnph .'" behind them, would dart out of the house, in resent- ment ; — all which was patiently endured by the master. For he was particularly instructed not to use compulsion. They ultimately became attentive and good boys, both in school and in the family, where they were cherished ; — the eldest, however, always manifesting more tract- ableness and docility of the two. They gradually dropped their Indian dress and manners, and i'^l iS. h 'A .It!::;!. ' ' ^M' u>\ MARLY HISTORY OT TIIK adopted those of tlieir new society. The ehlest, as he ^lew up, hecanie a universal favourite, was extensively introduced into the hest society of New England; — was cherished by every body, as a most proniisin<,' youth ; — and all began to predict that he would ultimately be of great service to his own nation, and to the Indian tribes. For this purpose, his love of his own people was carefully cherished by all his patrons, who were very numerous, and among the best and most influential men of the country. No pains or expense were spared to enlarge his mind, cultivate his best feelings, and lit him for a high destiny. And the gradual and rapid developements of his intellect and moral virtues, and the improvement of his manners, abundantly satisfied and rewarded the hopes and pains ex- hausted upon him. In addition to all the rest, and as the highest finish of his character, he was observed to embrace and cherish with great sincerity and earnestness, the radical and practical principles of Christian piety, lie grew up a gentleman and a Christian. For a time, during the last war between the United States and Great Britain, his original and benevolent patrons in New England, were somewhat disappointed and grieved, in con- sequence of his having attached himself, by urv. r.F,r\/.r.Fi wim.iams. Km temptations held out to liini, to the stall' of ilie Anieiican army in tlie north. In consichM'ation of Ills known abilities and of iiis eonnexion with the Indian tribes in Canada, which were the auxiliaries and more or le>s employed in the British army, his service's were deemed impor- tant, by the Americans, to counteract the hostile influence of these tribes on the northern frontier. In the battle of IMattsburi:, himself and his brother John sustained conspicuous and useful parts — althouiih the enifagement did not amount to much besides skirmishin«r, iu consecjuence of the decisive action on Lake Chami)lain, in tlie face of Plattsbur<^, which caused the sudden retreat of the British forces from before the town into Canada. Peace beinu concluded, and the natural excite- ments of a campaign subsiding in his mind, Mr. ^^ illiams's feelings settled down again into their former condition of repose and benevolent regard for the race, from which he sprung, and to which he was allied, not only by the ties of nature, but by a long cherished and ever wakeful regard for their highest and best interests. He felt, that Providence had called him to consecrate his energies, his influence, and superior advantages, to their welfare ; — and he fondly indulged the hope, that he was destined to elevate their condition. |!l *■ \m REV. ELEAZER WILLIAMS. It was not lon<( before he was introduced and commended to Bisliop Ilobart, of New York, and received orders in tlie Cln'istian ministrv from under liis iiand, to be employed in that capacity among tlie Indian tribes. He com- menced his labours in 1815, with the Oneida.s, at Oneida Castle, near Utica, in the State ot New York. of CHAPTER XVII. REV. MR. WILLIAMS AT GREEN BAY; IMPORT- ANCE OF HIS RELATIONS THERE, &c. It happened, that the Rev. Mk*. Williams, the subject of the foregoing Chapter, was at the head of all the movements of the New York Indians, which induced them to emigrate, and dnally planted them in the North-West Territory. Being himself a chief, and more accustomed to the world than his brethren, and well qualified for business, he always took the lead in all the negotiations with the general Government. Like Moses of old, he was captain of the tribes, religiously and politically. Like Joshua, he went into the promised land with his own people, and settled them there ; and stationed himself in tlie midst of them, still their pastor and leader. He liad "succeeded in introducing into the North- West Territory, and settling on the banks and near the mouth of Fox River, two of the most cultivated and most important of the New York KJS RI.V. MU. WILLIAMS tribes: — tlie Oneidas and Stockbridgcs — with every prospect, if things had gone on well, of bringing all liie rest after them. Mr. Williams had indulged tlie pleasing hope ol' instituting, under the protection and patronage, pledged by the Government of the United States, a new and bright era in the history of American Aborigines. His public character and i)rivate worth had not only given him a well-earned and merited ascen- dancy among the Indians ; but a hiirh and com- manding influence with the Government. He wa^ widely known, well esteemed, and universally respected. And liis appearance and manners, from childhood accustomed to the world in all its various shapes, portly in person, dignified in mien, condescending, courteous, andaflkble — and withal developing equally the European and Indian character, in all the expressions of his countenance, and in theexhibitionsof liis temper — showed him at once a man made for respect and influence. Soon after Mr. Williams'^ removal to Green Bay, he married a daughter of a Mr. Jordon of that settlement, himself a Frenchman, and his wife a pure Indian, of the Menomenie tribe in that region. In this particular, viz. of having an equal share of European blood, Mr. Williams and his wife were alike. And in all the excel- AT GREEN RAY. 1G9 lencies, wliich adorn the female character, Mrs. WiUiams was not inferior to her hushantl, as a man. Although myself and Mr. Williams had hcen a long time separate, and had not met more than once, and that only for a few moments, from 180() to 18.'3(), we yet had all the reasons, characteristic of the romantic attachments of our earliest years, to cherish the kindest afibctions towards each other. We had kept the traces of each other's history in the meantime, and each had rejoiced in the other's welfare; and it was as great mutual pleasure, as it was unexpected, to meet once more on such inte^'esting ground; and on an occasion so interesting, as that, which had brought me to Green Bay, in August 18.30. The next day aUer our arrival at Green Bay, I found myself in an Indian canoe, for the first time in my life, paddled by two wild Indians, ascending the Fox River, in company with Mr. W^illiams to his residence, eight miles above the settlement at the river's mouth. This unwonted and novel condition, in such a bark {lite r all fj a bark) and in such society, was associated with many interesting recollections. And as may be imagined, we talked over and lived again the scenes of childhood. We talked and lived again the years we had spent apart. We blessed and VOL. I. I -■■* m ■N 1 170 DFXEITFULNESS OF i -! II. .» >■■ a adored lliat Providence, ^vllicll had kept and guided us through so many eventful scenes. We wondered at the concurrence of events, wliich had thus thrown us together, and ratlier dreamt over it as a vision, than reahzed it as sober fact. Our first snug adjustment, however, in tlie canoe, is worthy of a passing remark. He wlio has never stepped foot in tliis floating thing, must take good heed, that he do not venture to .stand upon his feet, and that he get himself, as soon as convenient, "squat like a toad" {al'tas, like an Indian) in the bottom of the canoe ; — else he will find the light and fickle bark quickly rolling and pitching him head-foremost into the watery element. Nothing is more deceptive and trea- cherous, than an Indian canoe, to him who is unaccustomed to its whims. It is scarcely pos- sible for such a person to get seated in it without upsetting. And yet the Indian, who under- stands its temper, wi'l so adjust himself and so work his muscular^ powers, as to anticipate and feel all its sudden and fitful movements, and defy its instinctive and mischievous attempts to dis- lodge him into the deep. He will stand, or walk, or sit, as suits himself; — or mount with either foot on either rim ; — and compel the vicious and wayward thing to a quick obedience of his will. It is itself as light as an airy nothing, and bounds ;' '",!■ THE INDIAN CANOi:. 171 over the to})s of the waves, like the skipping steps of a fairy sprite, darting forward to gratify its own humour. My own awkward attempts to adjust myself in this whimsical thing, even after all the benefit of advice, was the occasion of no little merriment to the two wild Menomenies, who were to be the paddlers, and to others of the tribe, who witnessed the embarkation. Even Mr. Williams, with all his politeness, could not keep his gravity, but was forced to join heartily in the merry peal, which showered upon me from these simple children of nature. Side by side, however, and at last, Mr. Williams and myself sat in the bottom of the canoe, on a mat woven from the stock of wild rice, and began to ascend the Fox River, smooth and swift, as the Indians dipped their paddles, and awakened the instinc- tive life of their airy bark. One of our paddlers was a man of forty, the other a youth of eighteen — both painted, with little covering, except a blanket carelessly pen- dant from the shoulder, or belted round the waist ; and a feather or two stuck in the hair, on the crown of the head. The elder had his whiskey bottle, and the younger his rifle lying at his feet. " And here we are, ^^r. Williams. How strange ! What a scene is tnis ! " — " Indeed, Sir, and did we dream of it, when i2 .■.ii; , J Mi I m kt ITf? DIALOGtE. ^ ■' we run around tlie brick school-house in the street of Long Meadow, and phiyed our boyisli pranks in that never-to-be-forgotten and dehght- fid retreat?" " And do you remember the dress you wore, when first your father brought you from Canada — and what infinite sport you and your brother John made for tlie children of the school, by the strangeness of your manners, and your Indian whims, before you had learned to accommodate yourselves to such a state of discipline ?" " My memory," said Mr. Williams, tapping liis forehead with his finger, as much like a Frenchman, as an Indian, and winking a smile of great significance — " my memory records those scenes, as if they were the recurrence of yester- day ; and I remember, too, that we did not take your ridicule in very good part. And do you not think that you, little fellows, were rather impo- lite ? — And did we not give you a rap, or two, for such disrespect?" " Indeed, you made yourselves quite the terror of the school, for a little. For nothing, you know, is more frightful in story, to a white man's child, than the thought of an Indian. He would run from an Indian before he were hatched." " And what have you heard lately of roy good and venerable father Ely's family? Blessed be ASCENT OF FOX RIVER. 1 i ft their memory ! And what do I not owe tliem ! Some are in heaven ; and where arc the rest ? And all my old friends and patrons in New England — I cannot name them, they arc so many : " The Elys, all, as you may well believe, who are not saints in heaven, arc on their way." " I should be base, indeed — I could never re- spect myself, to forget even for a day the family, who took and cherished my childhood ; — and to whom, under God, I owe all that I am more than my brethren of the St. Regis Tribe, in Lower Canada." And much and various talk of early and later days, of trifling and more important events, occu- pied the hour or two, while the canoe was made to stem the current, avd bore us along between the wild and romantic shores of Fox River, towards the humble and solitary log-cabin of the Rev. Mr. Williams, perched upon the right bank, ascending ; and skirted by what is called an oak- openingj or more properly, an orchard of oaks, scattered here and there, near enough for a shady grove, but too distant to make a forest proper. The beauty of Fox River and of its wooded banks, is hardly to be exceeded by any thing of the kind. Every thing is soft and picturesque to the full satisfaction of the soul. The mind, in H . '1, • 1 i' I I (1 I 't •(' I •' ■; I If U ft ft 171 A DEKR. contemplating the shifting scene, drinks in plea- sure, as if from the current of the river of life. A little incident in this excursion is perhaps worthy of notice. As the canoe was gliding smoothly along near the shore, a sudden agitation of the bark summoned my attention to the young man forward, who had dropped his paddle, and grasped and fired his rifle at an object in the high grass, under the bank, but invisible to any eye, but that of an Indian; — and all so quick, that one could hardly say, it had occupied time. The rifle was discharged, before I could even look up; and the Indian's fiery glance, and cry of — " Umph!" followed a deer, as he leaped up the bank, and bounded into the wood. The rifle, as I have called it by mistake, was a shot-gun; — and having been loaded only for waterfowl, could efl'ect no more, than to pepper the poor animal, and make him feel uncomfortable; and perhaps extinguish the light of an eye. The young man seemed greatly vexed to have lost his game. After being made acquainted with Mrs. Wil- liams, who set us refreshments, a walk was pro- posed and taken, along the elevated brow of a sort of amphitheatre, overlooking the river, and enclosing a spacious and rich plain, a little above the highest floods. It was indeed a beautiful and commanding eminence — itself the margin of ¥i MR. \villia:\iss plans. 1 I , > as anotlicr plain, stretching backwards, luulcr the sombre and aj)parently boundless orchard of oaks. *' Here," said Mr. VVilliams, *' on this spot and along this line, I /lad fondly indulged the dream, would one day, not far distant, be founded and erected a literary and scientific seminary, for the education of Indian youth. Next to the removal and establishment of our eastern tribes, in these delightful abodes of the North- West, and along Fox River, and such a confirmation of our privi- leges, as to afford a security for future exemption from the incursions of the white man, I /tad con- ceived and fondly cherished the project of this institution. This wide and beautiful country teas to be our inheritance, — in common with the tribes, of whom we purchased, and with whom we had entered into firm and friendly alliances, under the guidance and auspices of the President and Government of the United States. For the first time in the history of our public injuries, and of the successive ejectment« of our tribes from the east to the west, in the progress of two centuries, and of the gradual wasting away of whole nations, as well as the constant diminution of these small remnants, which still retain a name and exist- ence — a fixed and permanent position was here pledged to us, and seemed to be gained, without fear of disturbance. Here opened to our imagi- 176 MR. WILLIAMS S ACCOUNT i; «' nation antl to our hope — and I niirjht add to our sober judgment — a theatre for the regeneration of our race. Here, as you see, we were naturally divided by the great waters from the States, and from all danger of collision with the whites ; at the same time, that the American Government had promised to spread over us the wings of its protection, to secure us from those fatal dissen- sions among ourselves, which had formerly cha- racterised our history, and to extend unto us its parental and fostering care. It had promised all convenient aid to secure the civilization of the wilder tribes, to amalgamate our feelings and our interests, and make us one ; and ultimately to raise us to a dignity and importance, which might claim, either an independent and equal place in the Federal Union, or a separate Govern- ment in frieiidly alliance with the nation, which had first depressed us, but afterwards atoned their fault by restoring our rights, and making us better than they found us. And you see, there is no dreaming in all this. It was natural, it was suitable, it was feasible. There was no obstacle in the way, but the want of faith in existing and solemn covenants. Where is the nation on earth, whose remote ancestors, at some former period, have not been even lower, than we now are ? There is nothing wanting, or IMS I'l.ANS. 177 but peace and public taith, tlie means of intellec- tual and nioral culture, and the arts of civilization, brought perpetually to bear on any peoj)le, how- ever degraded, to elevate them to the highest imaginable condition. " Here, on this spot, [ had designed to found an Institution, which might ulf" 'lately grow into importance, and become the great centre of education for the Aboriginal Tribes of North America. All this land which you see, and more, comprehending some thousands of acres, luas mine, ceded by the tribes, as the reward of my services, and vesting in my wife, in con- sideration of claims through her father's family. I had expended the last penny of my earthly substance, and involved myself in debt, by the personal sacrifices, indispensably incurred, in accomplishing the great object of our removal and settlement in this territory. And it was deemed fair, not only for the claims of my wife, but for my own, that I should receive this in- demnification. And by the increasing value of these lands, as the state of society among our tribes should advance, I had hoped, not only to provide for my family ; but still to be able to make other and continued sacrifices, for the good of the race, to which I belong; — and more especially to push the project of this my favourite institution. i3 ■i 'A ' '-J-- W- 178 MR. WILLIAMS S PLANS M . A I) m- 11 i^irii .,^ii i !! .i ** I am a Canadian by birth, you know ; — and l)y the same right, if I choose to assert it, a subject of the British Empire. Ahhongh I am sorry to say, that tlie British Government of the Canadas is even behind that of the United States, in the proper, or at least, in tlie formal acknow- ledgment of Indian rights. They have never acknowledged their original tcn'itoi'ial rights, nor their separate rights, as a distinct commu- nity ; and of course have had no controversy, in these particulars ; — as the growth and extension of population in the Canadas have never yet brought the parties into serious collision. But in two things the British are far more noble : — Fit sty They never look with contempt, nor even with disrespect, on the colour of a mans skin, merely because it is of a deeper shade than their own. This is almost the peculiar vice of the Americans ; and I need not say, that it is unbe- coming. Nay — I am almost provoked to add, what perhaps ill becomes me — that it is con- temptible. And next, — The door is completely open in the Canadas for the incorporation of the Indians in all the rights and immunities of citizen- ship ; — whereas in the States they are proscribed by law — at least by custom, which amounts to the same thing. In the Canadas an Indian may rise to any office, and to any civil dignity, 1 on Tlir, IN 1)1 W RACK. IT.) accordin«^ to his iiu'rit and liis infliicncc. And in the records of tlieir parliaments may be fouiul at least the name of one IncUan, admitted to their dehberations, and to the supreme rii;hts of legis- hition. ** But I was going to say that, as we are here upon tlic borders of the Canadas, and as tliese provinces comprehend many and important In- dian tribes, within their jurisdiction, and myself being a Canadian by birtli, I had not confined my views of Indian ameHoration and cuUivation to those tribes alone, that are to be found within the circle and in the territories of the States ; but I have all along had my eye upon the Cana- dian tribes. I love my father's house, and my father's nation; and I know the generosity of the British public — to whom I have meditated a future appeal, in behalf of the interests of this seminary, and of the tribes falling under the jurisdiction of their Colonial Government, in North America. I have had reasons to be per- suaded, tliat they never would refuse tlieir pa- tronage; — that their sympathies of benevolence would kindle into a holy fervour, under the prospects of such a hopeful field of generous enterprise. And what, with the patronage of t!ie Government and })eople of the United States, and what, with the favour of the people of Great 4 180 MR. WILLIAMS S 'S ■ It' ri mi A Britain, I have not doubted — on condition of the maintenance of good faith, in regard to the pledges we had received, and which induced us to leave our homes in New York, and come to this region — I could not doubt, that my project was rational., and that my hopes were likely to be realized. " But — what of all those bright and cheering hopes now remains? It is already decided, as you know, or will have occasion to know, in the progress of the labours of this Commission from Washington, who landed here yesterday, in com- pany with you — that this territory is now a can- didate for admission to the rank and privileges of one of the Federal States. Public offices of Government have already been planted at the mouth of the river, in the seUlement of Green Bay, which we left this morning, filled by men, who are anticipating the opportunity of wielding the destinies of this future commonwealth. Citi- zens from the States are flocking in, occupying the posts of trade, specuhating in the purchase of lands, and selling whiskey to the wild Indians, who fill this region ; — and thus corrupting their morals and manners, and fast plunging them into deeper degradation, and to final ruin. Did you not see those naked and drunken Winebagoes, who left the door of my cabin a few minutes ago. ■1. DISAPPOINTMENT. 181 I ; brandislii."^ their knives in a quarrel, actually bleed'ng under the infliction of violence on each other, and obliged to roll one of theii" number, dead drunk, into the canoe, before they ccild proceed up the river? In the bottom of that canoe you saw also a keg of whiskey, the occa- sion of this mischief; and it is that cause which is destined to be the ruin of these tribes. Those Indians came all the way from thirty miles uj) this river, to the white settlement below, mereh' to purchase that whiskey ; — for which, you ir.ay be assured, they have paid dearly enough. For the shopkeepers here do not trade with the Indians, but for an enormous, an exorbitant profit. " This very land along the banks, and on either side of this river, comprehending the Falls, a few miles above, and which make an infinite power for macliinery, down to the mouth of the river, and far around on both sides of the heiv^ of the bay; — comprehending, in short, the key of the territory ; — and which we ourselves had purchased of the native tribes in 1821-Ji2 — was formally purchased again of the same tribes, in 18)i7, by a commission from the General Government, in contempt of our title. We are aware, that it is pretended not to be in contempt of us — that it was not intended to disregard, or disturb our ' U H I . 18;2 Mil. WILLIAMS S I!?; \\^ h«rf ri III'' J* contract — but only to purchase the chiim, which those tribes still held over this territory, in relation to the United States. But we cannot understand this. As our contract was nif de under the supervision of the President of the United States, and received the official sancilv i of his own hand and seal ; — and as the contract con- veyed to us entire, and without reserve, for ever, all the right and title of those tribes in the pre- mises ; — we cannot comprehend, either the reason, or propriety, that the Government should nego- tiate with t/ietn fo»* "he land, and not with //.v,- — unless the reason be simply this: — that they knew we icould not sell, and that it is resolved to impeach and disturb our claim. And rdthouuh there has been no official ai;nouncement of such intention, yet have we long time heard, and are constantly hearing from private and irresponsible sources, and sources which are not far from being intimate with the public authorities — thaf our purchases are invalid. Indeed, it is on this ground alone, that all tlie noise and controversy have arisen. So long as our title were allowed to be good, there could be no controversy. It is on this ground, that the native tribes have been made dissatisfied, and alienated from us ; — and on this ground, that the present Connnission lias been sent up to force us to a compromise, and 8.' !■ . it DISAPPOINTMENT. 183 reduce us to limits, which will entirely defeat all our objects in removing to this territory. It is on this presumption, that you see the pubHc offices, and the active and flourisiung white settlement at the mouth of the river — none of which have a right to be there, on the basis of the faith, which has been solennily pledged to us. We are invaded— we are soon to be surrounded — and there is no hope for us. We have no longer any influence over the native tribes. They have been turned against us ; and they know not that they have been turned against themselves. The white citizens, at the mouth of the river, are our enemies. They are employing every possible endeavour to throw us into the narrowest limits, and finally to root us out. '' And besides all this, there are white men here, who enjoy the credit of hunting up and purchasing the pretended land claims of the old French settlers, for trifling considerations ; and rendering them certain and valuable, by forcing them through the District Court of the United States, established here, in a manner and by means, which make us unhappy. And the very ground on which you now stand, is liable to be invaded tbr my ejectment, by such a process. It was dear to me once, but I cannot now hold it to the value of a song. •I ■ M I ■■,i . '■• 5:-.; iY]\ I8i' THE DISAPPOINTMENT. '*Aiul is there any hope, tliink you? Tlw lamp of hope has long since expired. We can never move again. We Imve no courage. Our tribes liave no courage. For where is the faith on which we can rely? ' " You shall see the state of things in the clevelopements of the sittings of this Commis- sion. ■•*i1 h }■ he an 'Lir th, hf is- CHAPTER XVIII. AN ACCOUNT OF THE STOCKBRIDGE SETTLEMENT ON FOX RIVER. From Mr. Williams's, and in his company, I proceeded the next day up Fox River, about ten miles farther, to the settlement occupied by the Stockbridge tribe, last from the State of New York ; — but originally from Stock- bridge, Massachusetts, from whicii place they take their name. This, of course, will be seen to be the second removal they have made, to be freed from the white men. Having, for some reasons, found their situation uncomfortable in Massachusetts, or being other- wise tempted, the Stockbridge tribe had, at an early period, sold their original possessions, and removed to the west, into a region, which is now the heart of the State of New York; — but which, at tliat time, afforded them the same hopes of a retired seclusion, as those which they indulged, when, less than ten years ago, they came to Green Bay. The place of their li «i 186 THE STOCKBRIDGE TRIBE. first retreat, was in the neighbourhood of other tribes, where they hoped to enjoy, in perpetuity and without disturbance, their own riglits and their peculiar ways of living. But after a gene- ration or two, they found themselves again sur- rounded and invaded by the whites ; and as before narrated, and for similar reasons, tliey removed again to the banks of tlie Fox River, in the North-West Territory. As the most convenient way of developing the present condition and character of this tribe, I will here introduce a passage from my memo- randa; — obsen'mg, that the term Kaiv/iaa/in, the name of the place, from which the date was made, means Falls, or rapids ; and that the French epithet attached to it, which needs no explanation, is employed to express the compa- rative importance of these Falls, over another smaller rapid a few miles below; — both of which, by tlie application of special forces, may be as- cended with the bateaux, used in navigating these waters. Grande Kaw/iaicU/i, Aug. IG, 1830. I am now writing from the Mission-house of the American Board, on Fox River, twenty miles from its mouth, planted among the Stockbridge Indians — who have been encouraged to settle themselves here by the General Government, I M THE STOCKBRIDGE TRIRE. 187 les ttle after having been disappointed of their chiims on White River, Indiana. They number about 350 souls, and have probably made greater attain- ments in the English language and manners, and in the useful arts of civilized life, and also in the Christian religion, than any other tribe of the Aborigines on the continent ; — except only, that the Brotherton Indians have so long used English, as to have lost their mother tongue. The probable reason, that the Brothertons have dropped the language of their tribe, is, that nearly all of them are higidy charged with En- glish blood. But in the moral state of society, and in general improvement, the Brothertons arc far behind the Stockbridgcs. The Brothertohs have not enjoyed the same uninterrupted suc- cession of teachers of the Christian religion. The Stockbridge Indians have heard the preaching of Brainard and Edwards ; and have enjoyed Christian privileges and cultivation, with little interruption, for nearly ninety years. I saw a Bible yesterday, safely kept in a sort of ark, at their place of worship, (a remarkable relic of Hebrew custom), printed at Oxford, England, in 1717, of the largest and hnest type I have ever seen ; except one shown to me two years ago in the English Church at Montreal, the last of which was said to be the largest and «i ; i^ 188 THE BIBLE PRESENTED %\ '.'•»"! 'i' r'l' :'« fairest type of a Bible ever done in English. From the resemblance of the two, I have reason to believe, they are both of the same impression. The Bible here is in two volumes, the largest folio, two feet by eighteen inches, both together weighing I should judge forty to fifty pounds, with a superb frontispiece, and numerous plates, equally elegant and splendid. On the external of each volume is imprinted in large gilt capitals, with the ancient mode of punctuation, the follow- ing inscription : — THE. GIFT. OF. THE. REV. DR. FRANCIS. AYSCOUTH. TO. THE. INDIAN. CONGREGATION. AT. IIOUSATONNAC. IN. NEW. ENGLAND. MDCCXLV. On the first blank page is the following cer- tificate, I suppose in the hand-writing of the person whose name is subscribed : — " This, with another volume, containing the Holy Bible, is the pious gift of the Rev. Dr. Francis Ayscouth (Clerk of the Closet to His Royal Highness, Frederick, Prince of Wales) to the use of the congregation of Indians, at or near Housatonnac, in the vast wilderness of New England, who are at present under the i't -' BY DR. FRANCIS AYSCOITII. 1S{) voluntary care and instruction of the learned and religious Mr. John Sergeant, and is to remain to the use of the successors of those Indians, from generation to generation, as a testimony of the said Doctor's great regard for the salvation of their souls. And is over and ahove other benefits, which he most cheerfully obtained for the encouragement of the said ^ir. Sergeant, and in favour of the said Indians, at the request of their hearty friend and well-wisher, " Thomas Goran." " London, the '6\st of Dec. 1795." n I have conjectured, that the last date should be 1745, in order to correspond with the inscrip- tion on the outside. But perhaps the solution may odierwise be obtained. I have not felt at liberty to restore the correspondence, as the characters, though in manuscript, are quite dis- tinct and legible. — " And is to remain to the use of those Indians from generation to generation, &c." And here it is, as bright and as perfect, as when first it came from the hands of the pious donor ; — and that not to prove, that it has not been used — for it has been constantly used in public worship. But it has been carefulhj used, and carefully kept in the ark of the covenant ! It came from I r' n 190 RELIGIOUS CHARACTER ''■M: W ' ■' Old England to the *' Housatonnec, in the vast wilderness of A^ew England." It was transported with the tribe to the State of New York; — and for aught I know, with all the sacerdotal solemnities of their Hebrew fathers, in ancient days. And it was again transported by the same religious care to t/tis vast wilderness, of the North- West. And here it is, a perpetual monument of their fear of God, and of their love of his word and ordinances. Their reverence for this volume and for the ork, which contains it, is almost superstitious. Nay, I had Jmost said — it is idolatrous. But that would be unjust. While the white Christians (Christians?) of Europe have fallen into the most egregious and stupid idolatry, these descendants of the ancient He- brews, and all their brethren of the wildest tribes, in all their wanderings, have never laid their hands upon an idol — hr-'ve never worshipped an idol. They have never worshipped the sun, nor the moon, nor the stars, nor any image of things in heaven, or earth. They have never worshipped gods many; — but One invisible, un- changeable, eternal Spirit! '' The Great Spirit!" — as they always call him. But where else is the people to be found, not Christian, except among the scattered remnants of Judah and Benjamin, who have not worshipped idols ? ^4- 'M^ or Tlir STOCK nillDGFS. 1J)1 .'if Let the pious descenilants oftlic l^nglisli race, both in Great Britain and America, he encouraged to imitate iha Jail /i of tlie " Ueverenel Doctor Francis Ayscoutli,"- — and of " tlie learned and pious Mr. John Sergeant." For liere, in the Stockbridge tribe, is tiieir reward. " From ge- neration to generation," even under all the dis- advantages of their condition, these Indians have been growing ))etter and better, ever since they were first blessed })y the prayers and labours of those venerable men of God. Yesterday was the Sabbath — and a good day it was. I had never expected to come into this wilderness, so called, and among these savages, a'o esteemed, to enjoy a Christian Sabbath, without witnessing a single impropriety , among a whole people of this description ; — to see the congrega- tion, the parents with their children, " and the stranger within their gates," going up to the house of God in company; seating themselves with a reverence and decorum, that might shame many communities, calling themselves civilized, and professing Christianity ; listening with fixed and unrelaxed attention to all the public services, many of them demonstrating a thorough reli- gious abstraction and absorption ; and when their hearts and conscience were appealed to, in the application of the subject of discourse, showing a i ■M( n I a? A SAHHATH AMONG If i ffi III Ml 1. ■^^' f dcptli and (jiiickiiess of feeling, which agitatcil their ])osom.s, and forced a passage throiigli the watery channels of the eye. And Mien to attend the Sahbath school, reduced to all the order and discipline, which characterise the best schools of this sort in the white settlements; — superintended, indeed, ])y the Missionaries, but employing the adult natives, as instructors, who engaged in their work with a ready aptitude and apparent satisfaction : — this, too, was a scene unexpected and grateful beyond my power to express. And all was done in the English lan- guage, so pure, tliat if my eyes had been shut, and I could liave forgotten where I was, my ears would have assured me, that I was listening to the common exercises of a Sabbath school among the whites. The building consecrated and employed for these purposes, is ma '^ of unhewn logs, resting upon each other from the foundation to the roof, and dove-tailed at the angles ; forming not only heavy and substantial walls, but strongly " com- pacted together." The interstices are filled up with a species of clay, or mud, mingled with straw to secure its tenacity, and to exclude the wind and storm. This, it may be understood, is the ordinary mode of constructing houses in the new settle- ments, until the inhabitants are able to erect ■i THE STOCKBRlDfJES. im tor JCt saw-mills, and produce boards and other lumber, essential to more comely edifices. I have been gratified to remark, that this Indian settlement has al, the conveniences, and is e(jually well done, as settlements of the same age, and in similar circumstances, in the States. This church, or meeting-house, is planted in the midst and under the overhanging trees of a wood, because it hap- pens to be the geographical centre of the tribe ; — and is also employed, as a common school-house, on the week days. It will admit a congregation, closely packed, of o(J0, or more — quite sufficient for their purposes. It is delightful to see them thus assembled, and for such a purpose, all neatly dressed in a costume, about half-way be- tween the European ftabit and that of the wild tribes ; measuring not inaptly the degree of ttieir civilization: — the women, for the most part, espe- cially the matrons, wearing the old fashioned English short gown and petticoat, with scarlet gaiters, and buckskin moccasins, tastefully in- wrought with beads, with the white man's beaver hat, and some gaudy ribband for a band, which often hangs pendant down the back, nearly to the ground. Some of the younger females may be seen, dressed nearly to the top of the English fashion — always exhibiting, however, some laughable in- congruities. The men seldom wear hats — and VOL. I. K ••I '*-i M lit'. 104 INTLHPRETATION OF A SERMON'. 1', r : their dress also is ordinarily midway between the European and Indian modes. The flaps of their IVock hang out to meet the trowsers, or high gaiters, which terminate halfway from the knee to the hip bone, and which are supported by strings attached to the upper garments. They are generally closely girded by a sash o^ wampum or beaded mantle, the ends of which are pendant, like the sash of a military officer. The children are set off in a show of slight variations from the appearances of adults. As among civilized people, the standing in society, the degrees of respect- ability and domestic wealth, are marked in dress, by varying degrees of richness and taste. Some of the men, as well as women, are dressed in all respects after the European plainer modes. In the second, or afternoon service of yester- day, the sermon of the preacher was interpreted, as is always the practice in one half of the day, for the benefit of a small portion of the tribe, who do not understand English. This is a slow, and a somewhat tedious mode of intercommuni- cation. The process is simply this : as the preacher did not understand Indian, he delivered himself successively in short sentences, and waited at the end of each for the interpreter to present the thoughts, in his own tongue, to the confrreufation. Or rather I migLit say : the 1v CHURCH MUSIC. 195 preacher rested where the current of thought more naturally allowed a pause. I had always understood, that the Indians are good singers. It is an exercise, for which they have great fondness. But the half had not h?en told me. They seem all to be singers ; and the mellowness and sweetness of their voices, to- gether with the accuracy of their ear, and their horror of discord, ensure the sweetest harmonies in their chorus. This tribe have been so lonii practised in the art of sacred music, and their taste is so good in the selection of common tunes and anthems, that they are surprisingly familiar with the most extensive range of Clu'istian psalmody. 1 heard about thirty of them last evening, male and female, sing an hour and a half without interruption, passing from one piece to another without repetition, except as requested ; — all done in good style of perform- ance, (when we compare the ordinary choirs of church singers, one with another) and in pure English ; • — except occasionally, by particular desire expressed, they sung in their own tongue. They have many psalms and hymns translated into the same metre, so that a part of the con- gregation in public worship, for whom it is more convenient, sing in th'jir own Ipnguage, simulta- neously with those, who sing in English; — and K 2 ■M ,, -I C ■; ti li n IM ■• •; ; ■^n 196 THE PARISH BEADLE. all without confusion. You may recognise those, wiio sing in Enghsh, or Indian, by the move- ment of their hps. It seems impossible for Indians, when they sing in chorus, to avoid a simultaneous movement — which is never ex- ecuted in churches of white people, where all the congregation unite; — and not always in choirs, that have had the best opportunities of being trained. This unerring exactitude of movement must be owing, I think, to a natural superiority in the quickness and nicety of their musical perceptions. I was compelled to award these Indians the palm over the ordinary per- formances of Christian psalmody, among the whites. I noticed yesterday two interesting features, appertaining to the order of their public wor- ship : — one was the staff and office of the parish beadle, introduced, no doubt, by Mr. John Sergeant, nearly a hundred years ago. The staff, in the present instance, was a green switch, about ten feet long, which the functionary had cut from the wood, as he came to church ; — and woe to the boy, that should play, or the man, or woman, that should sleep, under his watchful eye. The former was switched over the ears with a briskness, which I should judge, from the sound of its whizzing, must have made HIS FUNCTIONS. 107 them tingle and burn for the rest of the tliy. And when a man or woman was seen noddinjx, the big end of the switch was turned up, and made to thump violently against the stove-pipe over head, till it rang like a bell, accompanied with the startling cry from the beadle, in Indian: *' Wake up, there /" — all to the no small annoy- ance of the preacher ; — for it happened in the middle of his sermon. But the preacher gained at least the advantage of being heard by the sleeper, as may well be imagined, after such a summons. Now, although this may excite a smile among the whites, who in these times, have generally ^^bandoned this good sort of discipline, yet it all passes off here by the power of custom, with the utmost gravity, and produces a very quickening and salutary effect. The prerogatives of this functionary, as I per- ceived, also extend to the keeping of order out of doors, during the interval of public worship, and while the congregation are assembling and retiring ; so that no boy, or youth, dares offend in his presence. And I am told there is no partiality shown by this officer, even to his father, or mother, or wife, or children ; and that it is prudent even for the stranger, not to fall asleep. Certain it is : I discovered no disposition to levity among the youngsters, either within or 1 .i : ! * w. .$'■■ I ? 1 .- 1' 1 li 5 * . t 198 A PRAYER-MEETING. without the house. But all was decency and gravity, comporting with the solemnities of the day and the place. The other interesting feature which I noticed was : that when the benediction was pronounced, tlie congregation all resumed their sittings, and waited for those nearest the door to retire gradually without crowding and bustle, the moral effect of which was very pleasant. And th's, too, not unlikely was a lesson taught them by Mr. John Sergeant, ninety years ago. In the evening, a prayer-meeting was held at the mission-house; at which 1 had the pleasure of hearing two Indians pray in their native tongue, with a ready fluency, and with great apparent fervour and importunity. There were about fifty present : — and all kneeled during the prayers. At the request of the missionaries, I had addressed the Indians at their place of public worship in the day, on some of the common topics of religion. In the evening, I spoke to them again, and told them of their own interests, as a people ; especially to watch and defend themselves and their people against the evils of intemperance. They were very attentive; and to my no small surprise, when I had done, one of the chiefs vose to reply to me, apologized for not speaking III liT: AN INDIAN-SPEECH. 19!) in English, and called upon an interpreter. It may be observed, that he could speak English, as well as the man whom he selected and ])ut forward lor that purpose. But whenever Indians hold a public conference with strangers, they seem to like a little of the pomp and circum- star ^e of formality. And it does in fact give weight and importance to the interview. The venerable chief thanked. God, that I had come so far to visit them ; and for all the good words 1 had spoken to them that day and even- ing. He thanked all the well-wishers and bene- factors of the Indians among the white people. He reflected, with great feeling, upon the good- ness of God, in having put it in the hearts of his own people far over the great and salt lake (the Atlantic) to send them a Bible, (alluding to the Bible presented by Dr. Ayscouth) and a learned and good man (Mr. Sergeant) to tell the Indians all that was in it, and teach their children how to read it; — and for turning the hearts of Christian white people so long time to their spiritual welfare. The wickedness of man, he said, was very great, and they (the Indians) had abused their privileges, and God had not taken them away. [Here I thought he might well have indulged in reproaches for the injuries done them by white men. But no — he was too rf , t . * ■ f " ■ .» 4 i 200 IN DIAN-POLITENESS. l^fp If ' { noble — too grateful.] He said his heart was penetrated, (laying his hand upon his heart) when I spoke to them of the evils and dangers of intemperance ; — and declared, they were ready to do all in their power to keep their people from the use of ardent spirits ; — -and concluded in the usual manner of an Indian oration : " I have no more to say " — and then approached and gave me his hand. I do not pretend to recite his speech, but have merely indicated some of its leading thoughts. I found myself unexpectedly listening to an elo- quent impromptu of an Indian chief, formally and most respectfully addressed to myself, in presence of an assembly of Indians ; — an event I had never anticipated ; — and with a manner and tone of voice, which spoke directly from the heart. All that I had heard in report, or ima- gined of Indian speeches and of their wild oratory, instantaneously rushed upon my mind ; and I saw the living reality before me, not to detract from, but only to confirm, the vividness of the romantic ideal. I have been constrained to feel, that the deference and respect, which the Indian pays to a guest, when put upon the inter- change of good feeling, is unrivalled. No art of civilized life and manners can pretend to keep company with his politeness. The white man 1 r THE INTLRESTING SABBATH. '20 \ ' feels his littleness, and bows in reverence of such moral greatness and dignity of character. On the whole, the Sabbath I have spent at the Grande Kawkawlin, is one I can never forget. While listening to the songs of Zion, so sweetly attuned by these children of tlie forest, last evening, accompanied with the sug- gestions of the occasion, and its circumstance^, I found myself involuntarily and repeatedly ex- claiming within: — Have I lived so long and enjoyed so many privileges, to come here where it is supposed no such privileges are had, to enjoy a higher zest and nobler interchange of religious sympathy, than I can remember to have felt even in the most favo'U'ed gardens of Chris- tian culture ? Many times did I think, in the midst of the scenes brought before me yesterday: could the whole Christian world see and hear thl^;, they would forget all else they were doing, and run, and come bending over these guileless children of the wilderness, like the angels of heaven, who delight in errands of mercy, and ne^'er leave them, till they were all raijed to that dignity and to those hopes of man, which the light and ordinances of Christianity are designed and calculated to confer. Such a sight would open their hearts and all their treasures;, and nothing methinks would be wanting to advance k3 m 202 REFLECTIONS ON THE SCENE. i ;.'; .1 and consummate a design so benevolent and glorious. With what expressions of good feel- ing and gratitude do these Indians, old and young, male itnd female, crowd forward, without waiting for the forms of introduction, to shake hands with a stranger, whom they believe to be kind towards them ! What a rebuke to the re- served and distant etiquette of that, which is claimed to be a more refined condition ! And never did a Christian people cherish their pastor with kinder affections, or kinder offices, than these do their missionaries. And are these the people, who, as the white men say, can never be cultivated? — these the people to be driven from one place to another, •' till they have no rest for the sole of their foot?" — till they are corapellod "in the morning to say — would God it were evening — and in the evening, would God it were morning ? " — whom it is right to rob, a virtue to abuse, and pardon- able to have annihilated ? CIIAPTEll XIX. ^i THE ONi:iDA SETTLEMKNT AT DICK CEI'EK, UNDER THE CA OF THE REV. MR. WIL- LIAMS, &.C. While the Stockbridges had planted their tribe at the Grande KawkawUn, on the east bank of Fox River, and in the course of some half- dozen years, reared a flourishing settle - nient; built houses and barns in the usual style of the white settlements in similar circumstancej ; cleared away portions of the fore&t, and reduced their farms to an interesting state of improve- ment ; organized and brought into salutary ope- ration a political and civil economy ; established schools and the ordinances of Christianity ; began to improve the water - power opposite their village by the erection of mills and ':i.-i- chinery ; — exhibiting^ in a word, a most inte- resting jj/iash' of civilization, along with the purest morals, under the simplest manners :-- their state of society being rather of the patri- archal form, and governed by hereditary chiefs, ■ .1 1 'ii.s|g li!!!:' 204 FLOURISHING CONDITION OF t !• iv't w I'l ■ (1; =. ■.:}* Hi '^ life, ,, 'i'^ ■I m according to the iramemorial custom of Indian tribes ; — contemporaneously with the establish- ment of this settlement, the OneidaSt under the auspices of the Rev. Mr. Williams and his asso- ciate chiefs, had planted themselves at Duck Creek, on the west of the river, eight miles from its mouth, and twenty in a northerly direction from the Stockbridges. The Duck Creek settle- ment is five miles in retreat from the line of Fox River, situate on a small stream, from which it is named. The Oneida tribe, if my notes are correct, is somewhat more numerous than the Stockbridge, amounting perhaps to seven or eight hundred. The English language is not in common use among them, although it is being cultivated in their schools, along with their own. The Rev. Mr. Williams, their Christian pastor, preaches to them uniformly in their native tongue. Their improvements are equally inte- resting, and of the same general character, with those of the Stockbridges. They have farms, dwelling-houses, school -houses, barns, and in 1830 were building a very decent Christian Church, which is doubtless finished before this, and appropriated to its holy uses. The traveller, as he passes their former settlement, in Oneida County, State of New York, discovers a little distance from the main road on the south, a ) I mA '4 THE ONEIDAS AT DUCK CREEK. 203 I beautiful white church, with its spire pointing to the heavens. It was built by these Oneidas, and there they worshipped the white man's God, and adored the white man's Saviour, before they were compelled to leave it behind them, and build another in this distant region. Mr. Williams's house, as before noticed, stands alone, on the margin of Fox River, in the midst of the lands, tlie title of which would have vested in his wife, but for the unrighteous suits at law, which are likely to eject him, and leave him desti- tute ; — lands, which would not only provide well for his family, if suffered to be retained by him, but a portion of them was marked out and conse- crated in his purpose, as the site of a future and most important literary and scientific Institution, for the education of Indian youth. And when we reflect upon the nobleness of this purpose, its enlarged scope, and the apparent feasibility of the plan, with the prospects under which it was conceived ; when we regard the character of the man, who formed the design, and his means of influence to carry it into execution, had the ter- ritory remained undisturbed ; when we think, that he is probably the only man of the ago, who could lead in such an enterprise, with promise of its ultimate and full consummation ; and that with the blasting of his hopes, and the breaking down I: w 11 1 QOG DI.SCOlJRA(iING PROSPECTS of his courage, are likely to come the bligluin;r of all hope and the prostration of all courage among those tribes, for their future elevation and importance ; — we cannot look upon the un- toward events, which have befallen the New York Indians, since their removal to that quarter, but with feelings of deep and unutterable regret. The historian of the rise and fall of empires ordinarily points out to us the nice and critical events, on which was suspended their weal, or woe. And I am almost enough inclined to take up the burden and lamentations of a prophet, over the events now under consideration, and say: — I know not iiow the Indian tribes of that region can rise above this wreck of their hopes. There is a way, ii.deed, hereafter to be considered, which leaves a glim- mering of hope behind — but involving at the same time numerous contingencies of deep anxiety; — a way, which must necessarily transfer the theatre, and defer the consummation of the object. Here, in the North- West Territory, the door is for ever closed. These once hopeful instruments, and this individual man, will have laboured in vain — except, as the disclosure and ascertainment of their injuries shall awaken a repentance and a sympathy in the bosom of that community, which ought, long ago, to liave thrown in the shield of its protection, and saved the Indians from h: i OF THE INDIANS. 207 these disasters. And even then, such a man, as Mr. Williams, cannot be raisnd from the grave. Or, if he should be among the living, (which is not very probable) a state of hcaltli worn out, and a constitution broken down, by these cares ; — a mind, originally vigorous and heroic, but the courage of which has been well nigh subdued by this irresistible accumulation of calamity over the heads of his race -would require little less than a miracle to fit him to cherish again the hopes, and again to wield the burden of such an enter- prise^ as he must have the credit of having once conceived. May a Plurnix yet arise from the ashes of his hopes consumed, and wing its way to a brighter destiny. For the information of the reader, it is suitable to acquaint him yet farther with the relations of the New York Indians to their wilder brethren of the North-West, in consequence of their pur- chase and removal — and also with the unex- pected encroachments they suffered from the whites — before we enter upon the doings of the Commissioners. Although there are several nations (as the Indian tribes are often called) in the North-West, yet as two only occupied and claimed the terri- tory, where the New York Indians chose to settle, .r I , I ii: t' 208 DISTURBANCE OF THE their negotiations were principally confined to those tribes — viz. the Menomenies and Wlnne- bagoes. It was of these nations they purchased, and with them, that they entered into friendly alliances and solemn covenants, under the aus- pices of Government in 1821-22. They had succeeded in cultivating friendship, and in per- suading the native tribes to abandon their wild habits, and adopt the arts and customs of civilized life ; — so far, as to gain their consent, and the manifestation of an earnest purpose ; — a^ Jiough it is well understood, that a transition from bar- barism to civilization, is never instantaneous, but the process of time, and pains, and slow degrees. Such was a prominent object of this alliance, both with the Government originally, and with the New York Indians ; and such was the agreement and understanding of the parties. Such was the pro- spect in the outset, and in the first stages of the opera*^ion of this alliance ; and there is no reason to suppose, that it would have been interrupted, but for the interference of white men, who were interested in breaking up these relations, and in leading on the parties to open rupture and irre- concileable hostility. And they have succeeded but too well. The Menomeiiies and Winneba- goes, once friendly, are now the implacable enemies of their brethren from the East. They I { w. INDIAN RELATIONS. 209 ? >;:'( Hi have been persuaded, that the New York Indians came there, not to help the North-West Tribes, and improve their condition, as professed ;— but to overreach and root them out. The old French settlers have been brought into the league, not only by their influence, but by being encouraged to assert vexatious claims over Indian lands, and bring actions for ejectment ; — or to sell their claims to those, who know better how to manage them. White citizens from the States have flocked in, to fill the public offices, to occupy the posts of trade, and to anticipate the means of future wealth, which an organized and indepen- dent Government will afford them ; — all alike interested in the ejectment of their immediate predecessors ; — and all this in violation of the original understanding between the New York Indians and the General Government. And as white men are always superior to Indians, in all matters of business, in political management, and in commercial transactions ; so in the present instance have they thoroughly established them - selves by converting all possible influences in their own favour, and against their opponents. The Menomenies and Winnebagoes have been put forward to contest with the tribes from New York — to express their dissatisfactions to their great Father, the President — to impeach the •ii I H L ! ■ 210 PROSPECTS OF Covenants, under which they had sohl their lands — to ask for special Commissions to inves- tigate and settle the disputes ; — and the result, the meanwhile, heing anticipated, the territory has been occupied, and the white settlements commenced, as if no question, as to right, were pending, and no doubt entertained of the future removal of the Indians. And while I am writin»T these pages I have learned, that three of the most considerable tribes of the Nordi-West Territory, viz. the Winnebagoes, the Saukes, and the Foxes, have already been persuaded to sell their lands to the United States, and agreed to go beyond the Mississippi. The other wild tribes, no doubt, will soon follow them ; — and the New York Indians will find themselves in the same situation, as they were before they removed. That is : — surrounded by the whites, and pe^'mitted to retain such reservations of land, as will not materially interfere with ihe political designs of those, who have thrown them within such narrow limits. It will be understood, then, that the tribes more imme- diately brought into controversy with the New York Indians, were the Winnebagoes and Me- nomenies ; who in the wdiole affair have obeyed the instructions of those interested white people, that had gained an ascendency over them, for 'i('''-i- THESE TRIBES. 211 :■) '-> t I their own purposes. " These poor Menomenies and Winnehagoes," it was said, " have been overreached, and ro])bed of their liunting and fishing grounds, by their more crafty brethren from New York. We wish to see their lands restored." For what ? The lionest answer would have been : — *' That we may get them ourselves." These men felt a great deal of sympadiy for the wild tribes, so long as their lands were under the control of Indians, wlio had learned, by experience, how to keep them from the white man. That is : — They had learned how, so far as any dependence was to be put in covenants. But the moment this country is wrested from the New York Indians, all their tender scruples vanish ; and they are ready to enter immediately into negotiations, that shall place the same lands in their own power, and compel the former pos- sessors to retire into an unknown wilderness ! ** But, they say, we give them a fair and honour- able price." What? The value in the market of the white man ? The price negotiated for some millions of acres in this very territory, in 1832, was less than the half of a farthing per acre ! ! ! " But, we give them another country." Where is it ? And what is it ? And, if it be good for any thing, how long will they be per- mitted to stay there ? ii'i I ■ u ui CHAPTER XX. MANNER OF CALLING THE COUNCIL AND THE PREPARATIONS. It had occupied from twelve to fifteen days, after the arrival of the Commissioners at Green Bay, to convene the public Council ordered and contemplated. The day fixed for organizing its sessions was the 24th of August. In the mean time runners, as they are called among In- dians, and as in fact they are, (couriers) were despatched to all the tribes interested in the pub- lic deliberations about to be opened, to notify them of the time, place, and object of the Con- vention. They were formally served with copies of letters from vheir great Father, the President of the United States, assuring them of his good wishes, and of his desire to bring all their dis- putes to an amicable and satisfactory adjustment; and that for this purpose he had sent Erastus Root, John T. Mason, and James M'Call, good t-i MANNER OF CALLING THE COUNCIL. Q\S and true men, to hold a tafk* with his children in the North-West, who had quarrelled among themselves, and asked their great Father's media- tions; — to hear all they might have to say on either side; — to recommend peace and a just settlement of their disputes ; — to remove all occa- sions of the improper interference of their great Father's white children ; — and then to come back to the Council-house of the great nation at Washington, and say : " All the sores are healed.'* And this would give their great Father much happiness. Such was the substance of the notices sent to the chiefs of the tribes, as in a plural number of instances I heard them delivered and inter- preted ; — kind enough certainly, and very pro- raising. And these notices w^re accompanied by a certified copy of the particular instructions, given to the Commissioners, and investing them with their powers; — setting forth the under- standing of the case in that department of Go- vernment at W^ashington, whose duty it is to superintend this sort of business ; — prescribing the course of procedure, and controlling the result. As a question afterwards arose, whether it was • Indian name of conference. H: i •I'. 1* ?::'S. 214 INSTRUCTIONS OF proper thus to have made these instructions public, and some regret was manifested by the Commissioners, that they had done so, instead of keeping tliem in their own power, I shall take no advantage of an official inadvertence, which was afterwards regretted by the board of Com- missioners. I have already recognized the bear- ings of these instructions in another place. As r have sufficient reasons to believe, that not- withstanding they had the formal sanction of the Government, the construction of them was yet resigned to a private discretion, which was pre- viously inclined to what I esteem to be the wrong side, I am not ambitious to expose them. This supposed history of the instructions may, per- haps, save the conscience of the highest autho- rities, in this particular item. They did not understand the case ; and it was couveniejit to leave the matter in hands, where it ought not to have been left. But, whatever results might come, the President of the United States would of course be compromitted, and must sanction them. Nor would I insinuate, that there was any thing in these instructions, more or less, than, that, in the first place: — they were based upon incorrect information, and assumed facts, which had had no existence ;• — and next, that they left no power with the Commissioners to do right. r *f. THE COMMISSIONERS 215 and obliged them to do wrong, if they did any thing. Even if the Commissioners had ])een left to their own mu'estricted discretion, it was no easv matter for them to come at the right of the case. There were moral obstacles in their way : they were in the confidence of an administration, the general policy of which, in regard to the Indians, was known to be : — to throw them all west of the JMississippi. They must have some respect, therefore, to the trust, which had been reposed in them by supreme authority. And next: — the influence of the North-West, in support of the administration, to which the Commissioners were devoted, was worth something. Theij nnist not be asiounded by the manifestation of a determi- nation in the Commissioners to restore the original rights of the Indians ; — or to assume, as a basis of their deliberations, the first covenants between the New York Indians and the wild tribes of the North-West Territory. That would never do. The Green Bay settlement of whites had already been commenced. Men, too im- portant to the party in power, to be despised, were already phmtcd there ; and had a great interest at stake in the organization of the North- West Territory into a separate government. To think, therefore, of throwing a })ar in their way. m i-i' '11 ! I :'i 216 DIFFICULTIES OF THE COMMISSION. and circumventing their designs, would be run- ning a risk, which could not conveniently be hazarded. It was prudent, therefore, to assume, that this territory must bee ime a separate State ; — and that nothing must be done by this Commis- sion, that would interfere with such a purpose. Besides : — the confusion and contradiction of testimony, while opening their ears to all parties, would naturally afford abundant materials of an apology for pursuing a middle course — and of swerving even towards that side, which it might be deemed most important to please. And al- though their decisions, controlled by such consi- derations, might not be a final setdement of the dispute ; yet they would afford some plausibility of defence against the complaints of either party, and leave open the door for the consummation of the designs of only one; — and which that one might be, it is unnecessary to say. It was curious, and in no small degree inte- resting, to observe the arrangements making among the Indians for the public Convocation of the 24tn of August. Some several days before- hand, Indian canoes were seen floating and gliding along on the placid bosom of Fox River, part of them coming down the current from the south and west, and part coming up from the r If GETTING UP OF THE ENCAMPMENT. QV shores of the Bay, towards the phice of rendez- vous, near Fort Howard, on tlie north hank and some four or five miles from the moutli of the river, in the heart of what is ealled the set- tlement of Green Bay : — all filled with men, women, and children, and with tackle, not for war, hut to huild lodges. In other words, they brought their families, theii houses, and all their furniture of life, with them. For the last two or three days previous, the number flocking in greatly augmented ; — and the very last day before the 2kh was a time of great busde and activity. The river literally swarmed with canoes. And all along its banks on either sitle, within a mile of the point fixed upon to hold the Council, lodges of Indians might be seen, sinfjle or in clusters, teeming with their peculiar and variou?^ population of men, women, children, dogs, pet bears, pet foxes, &c. ^vc. It is understood, of course, that I am now speaking of wihl Indians. Those belonging t > the same tribe manifested a disposition to concentrate at one point, aiul maintain the exclusive occupancy of the position.^ The Menomenians took up their position on the plain behind the fort, on the north bank of the river ; — and there in the course of two or three days built a town. For so it seemed — and so it was — a town of Indian lodges, grouped and VOL. I. L ti' il wl ( 218 MODES OF DRESS, i >■$'•' ^-■iir': m thrown togetlier without any order, every new comer settin^j up his tent, as near to those already established, as possible ; until many acres of the plain were completely covered, and exhibited a rare spectacle to the eye. An Indian lodge is neither larger, nor higher, than a soldier's tent — it is itself properly a tent; and is as soon taken down and as soon set up. The fashion and show of it are as unsightly as can well be imagined — covered with large sheets of bircli bark, and encircled by a wall composed perhaps of a yard- wide matting, woven from some coarse vegetable substance, not unlike the bulrush. Some of the lodges are entirely open to the weather. The ground is their floor and their bed, except as some of them can afford a piece of matting; — a blanket the ordinary and principal article of clothing, except as parts of the person are con- cealed by some slight and loose articles of undress. Females, that can afford it, are fond of gaudy and glaring calicoes, for a short gown ; and will tie around them a yard square of blue woollen, for a petticoat, without a stitch bestowed upon it; the list, or border, running around the bottom, being regarded as ornamental. The addition of a pair of scarlet gaiters, buck-skin moccasins, a string of beads, and beaver hat, would make a perfect lady. But few are seen making such an A CITY OF INDIAN LODGES. 2U) Ml 'I it; )m, of a a an extravagant show. Displays of this sort beh)ng to the privileged orders. But I was speaking of this town of the Menomenies, which so suddenly, :ind so much like enchantment sprung into being before our eyes, on the north bank of Fox Kiver. 1 rose one morning a little after the sun, having lodged on the opposite bank ; and as the clouds of fog, resting upon the river, began to break and tioat away, my eye caught, through the shifting open- ings of the mist, o glance or two of what seemed a great city, reflecting the rays of the morning sun ; and of the lazy columns of smoke, issuing from countless chimnies : — all for the moment a perfect illusion. The fog was soon gone — and lo ! it was the Menomenie city of lodges ! To visit them, and go among them, and see how they live, does not present their condition as at all enviable. Wild Indians are generally an indolent, sordid, and filthy race — sunk into some of the lowest conditions of barbarism. The Winnebagoes, for the most part, made their encampment on the south side of the rivei-, not differing materially from those of the Meno- menies, except in not being so extensive. The whole number of Indians collected on this occa- sion was perhaps a little less ixian t/nee thou- sand ; — it being intended only as a convocation 1. 2 t ' ! m nfi m hi- k: i» \ 0.)() Tin: DTMORALIZINfi INFLri;N(r. of the cliiofs But curiosity, and the liopc ot participating:^ in the «^ratuitous (Hstrihutions of some food, and whiskey, and triflin*^ articles, wliich are conunonly made by the (iovernment on sucli occasions, liad brouglit tliem to^^etlier. It is lunniliatinfT and painful to he ohli