Account of the Death of Leather-Lips.
“This unfortunate Chief of the Seneca[231] tribe, who had attained the sixty-third year of his age, had pitched his camp a few miles west of the town of Worthington in the county of Franklinton. From his constant attachment to the principles of honesty and integrity, he had obtained a certificate from an officer of the government as a testimonial of the propriety of his deportment. This aged Chief was suspected by the Prophet, a man of a restless, turbulent spirit, who by his exceeding address, has obtained an unbounded influence over many of the northern and western tribes of Indians, by impressing upon their minds a belief that he is endowed with supernatural knowledge, and can foretel events yet to come. This is the same prophet who gathered the Indians at Greenville a few years ago, from which meeting so much was apprehended. In order that he should no longer have anything to apprehend from him (this Indian) he issued orders for his immediate death. These orders were given to Crane,[232] a chief of the Sandusky tribes, who immediately sat out with four other Indians, in quest of the old chief. About three weeks ago they found out his camp, and immediately sent his brother to him (who was one of their party) with a piece of bark, on which they had painted a tomahawk, as a token of his death! On the same day, Crane and his party spoke publicly in the settlements of the whites of their intention to kill him. When they sat out for his camp they were accompanied by five white men, amongst whom was a justice of the peace, no doubt to gratify their curiosity. Upon their arrival at the camp, they informed him of the object of their mission, and that he must prepare to meet his fate! In vain did he remonstrate against the cruelty of the sentence; he told them that he was an old man, and must soon die; that if they would spare him they might have his camp, and that he would go far beyond the Mississippi, where he would never again be heard of. He also alleged that he was a man of honesty, and had done nothing to incur so hard a fate! One of the white men also made an offer of his horse, to save the old man from the impending storm. Those offers all proved ineffectual. All hopes of a reconciliation now gone, he prepared to meet his fate with becoming dignity. While the Indians were digging his grave, he dressed himself with his best clothes in the war style, and then got his venison and refreshed himself. As soon as the grave was finished, he went to it and knelt down and prayed most fervently! He then took an affectionate leave of the Indians, and of the white men present, and when he came to the one who had offered his horse to redeem him, penetrated with gratitude, he burst into a flood of tears, and told him that his God would reward him. This was the only instance in which the least change could be perceived in his countenance. He was then attended to the grave by Crane—they knelt down, while Crane offered up to the great Spirit his prayers in his behalf. The fatal period had now arrived; they arose from their knees, and proceeded a few paces, and seated themselves on the ground. The old chief inclined forward, resting his face upon his hand, his hand upon his knees; while thus seated, one of the young Indians came up and struck him twice with the tomahawk. For some time he lay senseless on the ground. The only evidence of life that yet remained, was a faint respiration. The Indians all stood around in solemn silence; finding him to respire longer than they expected, they called upon the whites to take notice how hard he died, and pronounced him a witch—no good—they struck him again and terminated his existence. He was then borne to the grave, where the last sad office was soon performed.”
CHAPTER XL.
SHORT NOTICE OF THE INDIAN CHEIFS, TAMANEND AND TADEUSKUND.
The name of Tamanend is held in the highest veneration among the Indians. Of all the chiefs and great men which the Lenape nation ever had, he stands foremost on the list. But although many fabulous stories are circulated about him among the whites, but little of his real history is known. The misfortunes which have befallen some of the most beloved and esteemed personages among the Indians since the Europeans came among them, prevent the survivors from indulging in the pleasure of recalling to mind the memory of their virtues. No white man who regards their feelings, will introduce such subjects in conversation with them.
All we know, therefore, of Tamanend is, that he was an ancient Delaware chief, who never had his equal.[233] He was in the highest degree endowed with wisdom, virtue, prudence, charity, affability, meekness, hospitality, in short with every good and noble qualification that a human being may possess. He was supposed to have had an intercourse with the great and good Spirit; for he was a stranger to everything that is bad.
When Colonel George Morgan, of Princeton in New Jersey, was, about the year 1776, sent by Congress as an agent to the western Indians, the Delawares conferred on him the name of Tamanend in honour and remembrance of their ancient chief, and as the greatest mark of respect which they could shew to that gentleman, who, they said, had the same address, affability and meekness as their honoured chief, and therefore, ought to be named after him.
The fame of this great man extended even among the whites, who fabricated numerous legends respecting him, which I never heard, however, from the mouth of an Indian, and therefore believe to be fabulous. In the Revolutionary war, his enthusiastic admirers dubbed him a saint, and he was established under the name of St. Tammany, the Patron Saint of America. His name was inserted in some calendars, and his festival celebrated on the first day of May in every year. On that day a numerous society of his votaries walked together in procession through the streets of Philadelphia, their hats decorated with bucks’ tails, and proceeded to a handsome rural place out of town which they called the Wigwam, where, after a long talk or Indian speech had been delivered, and the Calumet of peace and friendship had been duly smoked, they spent the day in festivity and mirth. After dinner, Indian dances were performed on the green in front of the wigwam, the calumet was again smoked, and the company separated. This association lasted until some years after the peace, when the public spirited owner of the wigwam, who generously had lent it every year for the honour of his favourite saint, having fallen under misfortune, his property was sold to satisfy his creditors, and this truly American festival ceased to be observed. Since that time, other societies have been formed in Philadelphia, New York, and I believe in other towns in the Union, under the name of Tammany; but the principal object of these associations being party-politics, they have lost much of the charm which was attached to the original society of St. Tammany, which appeared to be established only for pleasure and innocent diversion. These political societies, however, affect to preserve Indian forms in their organisation and meetings. They are presided over by a Grand Sachem, and their other officers are designated by Indian titles. They meet at their “wigwam,” at the “going down of the sun,” in the months of snows, plants, flowers, &c. Their distinguishing appellation is always “The Tammany Society.”
Tadeuskund, or Tedeuskung, was the last Delaware chief in these parts east of the Allegheny mountains. His name makes a conspicuous figure in the history of Pennsylvania previous to the revolution, and particularly towards the commencement of the war of 1756. Before he was raised to the station of a chief, he had signalised himself as an able counsellor in his nation. In the year 1749, he joined the Christian Indian congregation, and the following year, at his earnest desire, was christened by the name of Gideon.[234] He had been known before under that of Honest John. It was not until the year 1754, that his nation called upon him to assume a military command. The French were then stirring up the Indians, particularly the Delawares, to aid them in fighting the English, telling them that if they suffered them to go on as they before had done, they would very soon not have a foot of land to live on. The Susquehannah and Fork Indians (Delawares) were then in want of a leading character to advise and govern them, their great, good, beloved and peaceable chief Tademe, (commonly called Tattemi) having some time before been murdered in the Forks settlement by a foolish young white man.[235] They, therefore, called upon Tadeuskund to take upon himself the station of a chief, which, having accepted, he repaired to Wyoming, whither many of the Fork Indians followed him.
Whatever might have been Tadeuskund’s disposition towards the English at that time, it is certain that it was a difficult task for him, and would have been such for any other chief, to govern an exasperated people, entirely devoted to the opposite interest. This may account for his not having always succeeded in gratifying our government to the extent of its wishes. Yet he did much towards lessening the cruelties of the enemy, by keeping up an intercourse with the governor of Pennsylvania, and occasionally drawing many from the theatre of war and murder, to meet the colonial authorities at Easton or Philadelphia for the negotiation of treaties, by which means fewer cruelties were committed than would otherwise have been.
His frequent visits to the governor and to the people called Quakers (to whom he was much attached, because they were known to be friendly to the Indians) excited much jealousy among some of his nation, especially the Monseys, who believed that he was carrying on some underhand work at Philadelphia detrimental to the nation at large; on which account, and as they wished the continuation of the war, they became his enemies.
From the precarious situation Tadeuskund was placed in, it was easy to foresee that he would come to an untimely end. Perhaps no Indian chief before him ever found himself so delicately situated; mistrusted and blamed by our government and the English people generally, because he did not use his whole endeavours to keep his nation at peace, or compel them to lay down the hatchet; and accused by his own people of having taken a bribe from the English, or entered into some secret agreement with them that would be of benefit to himself alone, as he would not suffer them to inflict just punishment on that nation for the wrongs they had done them, but was constantly calling upon them to make peace. The Five Nations, on the other hand, (the enemies of the Delawares and in alliance with England,) blamed him for doing too much for the cause which they themselves supported, for making himself too busy, and assuming an authority, which did not belong to him the leader of a band of women, but to them, the Five Nations alone.
To do justice to this injured chief, the true secret of his apparently contradictory conduct must be here disclosed. It is said by those Indians who knew him best, and who at that time had the welfare of their own nation much at heart, that his great and sole object was to recover for the Lenni Lenape that dignity which the Iroquois had treacherously wrested from them; thence flowed the bitterness of the latter against him, though he seemed to be promoting the same interest which they themselves supported. He had long hoped that by shewing friendship and attachment to the English, he would be able to convince them of the justice of his nation’s cause, who were yet powerful enough to make their alliance an object to the British government; but here he was greatly mistaken. No one would examine into the grounds of the controversy between the Delawares and the Five Nations; the latter, on the contrary, were supported in their unjust pretensions as theretofore, and even called upon to aid in compelling the Lenape to make peace. This unjust and at the same time impolitic conduct, of which I have before taken sufficient notice,[236] irritated to the utmost the spirited nation of the Delawares, they felt themselves insulted and degraded, and were less disposed than ever from complying with the wishes of a government which sported in this manner with their national feelings, and called in question even their right to exist as an independent people.
Surrounded as he was with enemies, Tadeuskund could not escape the fate that had long been intended for him. In the spring of 1763, when the European nations had made peace, but the Indians were still at war, he was burnt up, together with his house, as he was lying in his bed asleep. It was supposed and believed by many who were present, that this dreadful event was not accidental, but had been maturely resolved on by his enemies, whoever they were, and that the liquor which was brought to Wyoming at the time, was intended by them for the purpose of enticing him to drink, that they might the more easily effect their purpose. A number of Indians were witnesses to the fact that the house was set on fire from the outside. Suspicion fell principally upon the Mingoes, who were known to be jealous of him, and fearful of his resentment, if he should succeed in insinuating himself into the favour of the English and making good terms with them for his nation. It is said that those Indians were concerned in bringing the fatal liquor which is believed to have been instrumental to the execution of the design.
While Tadeuskund was at the head of his nation, he was frequently distinguished by the title of “King of the Delawares.” While passing and repassing to and from the enemy with messages, many people called him the “War Trumpet.” In his person he was a portly well-looking man, endowed with good natural sense, quick of comprehension, and very ready in answering the questions put to him. He was rather ambitious, thought much of his rank and abilities, liked to be considered as the king of his country, and was fond of having a retinue with him when he went to Philadelphia on business with the government. His greatest weakness was a fondness for strong drinks, the temptation of which he could not easily resist, and would sometimes drink to excess. This unfortunate propensity is supposed to have been the cause of his cruel and untimely death.
CHAPTER XLI.
COMPUTATION OF TIME—ASTROMICAL AND GEOGRAPHICAL KNOWLEDGE.
The Indians do not reckon as we do, by days, but by nights. They say: “It is so many nights’ travelling to such a place;” “I shall return home in so many nights,” &c. Sometimes pointing to the heavens they say: “You will see me again when the sun stands there.”
Their year is, like ours, divided into four parts: spring, summer, autumn, and winter. It begins with the spring, which, they say, is the youth of the year, the time when the spirits of man begin to revive, and the plants and flowers again put forth. These seasons are again subdivided into months or moons, each of which has a particular name, yet not the same among all the Indian tribes or nations; these denominations being generally suited to the climate under which they respectively live, and the advantages or benefits which they enjoy at the time. Thus the Lenape, while they inhabited the country bordering on the Atlantic, called the month which we call March, “the shad moon,” because this fish at that time begins to pass from the sea into the fresh water rivers, where they lay their spawn; but as there is no such fish in the country into which they afterwards removed, they changed the name of that month, and called it “the running of the sap” or “the sugar-making month,” because it is at that time that the sap of the maple tree, from which sugar is made, begins to run; April, they call “the spring month,” May, the planting month, June, the fawn month, or the month in which the deer bring forth their young, or, again, the month in which the hair of the deer changes to a reddish colour. They call July the summer month; August, the month of roasting ears, that is to say, in which the ears of corn are fit to be roasted and eaten. September, they call the autumnal month, October, the gathering or harvest month; December, the hunting month, it being the time when the stags have all dropped their antlers or horns. January is called the mouse or squirrel month, for now those animals come out of their holes, and lastly, they call February the frog month, because on a warm day the frogs then begin to croak.
Some nations call the month of January by a name which denotes “the sun’s return to them,” probably because in that month the days begin to lengthen again. As I have said before, they do not call all the months by the same name; even the Monseys, a tribe of the Delawares, differ among themselves in the denominations which they give to them.
The Indians say that when the leaf of the white oak, which puts forth in the spring, is of the size of the ear of a mouse, it is time to plant corn; they observe that now the whippoorwill has arrived, and is continually hovering over them, calling out his Indian name “Wekolis” in order to remind them of the planting time, as if he said to them “Hackiheck! go to planting corn!”
They calculate their ages by some remarkable event which has taken place within their remembrance, as, for instance, an uncommonly severe winter, a very deep snow, an extraordinary freshet, a general war, the building of a new town or city by the white people, &c. Thus I have heard old Indians say more than fifty years ago, that when their brother Miquon spoke to their forefathers, they were of such an age or size, they could catch butterflies, or hit a bird with the bow and arrow. I have heard others say (alluding to the hard winter of 1739-40) that they were born at that time, or that they were then so tall, could do certain particular things, or had already some gray hair on their heads. When they could not refer precisely to some of those remarkable epochs, they would say “so many winters after.”
The geographical knowledge of the Indians is really astonishing. I do not mean the knowledge of maps, for they have nothing of the kind to aid them; but their practical acquaintance with the country that they inhabit. They can steer directly through the woods in cloudy weather as well as in sunshine to the place they wish to go to, at the distance of two hundred miles and more. When the white people express their astonishment, or enquire how they can hit a distant point with so much ease and exactness, they smile and answer: “How can we go wrong when we know where we are to go to?” There are many who conjecture that they regulate their course by certain signs or marks on the trees, as for instance, that those that have the thickest bark are exposed to the north, and other similar observations, but those who think so are mistaken. The fact is, that the Indians have an accurate knowledge of all the streams of consequence and the courses which they run; they can tell directly while travelling along a stream, whether large or small, into what larger stream it empties itself. They know how to take the advantage of dividing ridges, where the smaller streams have their heads, or from whence they take their source, and in travelling on the mountains, they have a full view of the country round, and can perceive the point to which their march is directed.
Their knowledge of astronomy is very limited. They have names for a few of the stars and take notice of their movements. The polar star points out to them by night the course which they are to take in the morning. They distinguish the phases of the moon by particular names; they say the “new moon,” the “round moon” (when it is full), and when in its decline, they say it is “half round.”
They ascribe earthquakes to the moving of the great tortoise, which bears the Island (Continent) on its back. They say he shakes himself or changes his position. They are at a loss how to account for a solar or lunar eclipse; some say the sun or moon is in a swoon, others that it is involved in a very thick cloud.
A constant application of the mind to observing the scenes and accidents which occur in the woods, together with an ardent desire to acquire an intimate knowledge of the various objects which surround them, gives them, in many respects, an advantage over the white people, which will appear from the following anecdote.
A white man had, at his camp in a dark night, shot an Indian dog, mistaking it for a wolf which had the night before entered the encampment and eaten up all the meat. The dog mortally wounded, having returned to the Indian camp at the distance of a mile, caused much grief and uneasiness to the owner, the more so as he suspected the act had been committed from malice towards the Indians. He was ordered to enquire into the matter, and the white man being brought before him, candidly confessed that he had killed the dog, believing it to be a wolf. The Indian asked him whether he could not discern the difference between the “steps” or trampling of a wolf and that of a dog, let the night be ever so dark? The white man answered in the negative, and said he believed no man alive could do that; on which the whole company burst out into laughter at the ignorance of the whites and their want of skill in so plain and common a matter, and the delinquent was freely forgiven.
CHAPTER XLII.
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS AND ANECDOTES.
I hope I shall be excused for bringing here together into one view a few observations and anecdotes which either could not well find their places under any of the preceding divisions of my subject, or escaped my recollection at the proper time. These additional traits will contribute something to forming a correct idea of the Indian character and manners.
I have observed a great similarity in the customs, usages, and opinions of the different nations that I have seen, however distant from each other, and even though their languages differ so much that no traces of a common origin can be found in their etymology. The uniformity which exists in the manners of the Christian nations of Europe is attributed to their common religion, and to their having once been connected together as parts of the Roman Empire. But no such bond of union appears to have subsisted between the Iroquois, for instance, and the Delawares, and yet, the language excepted, they resemble each other considerably more than the inhabitants of some European countries. I shall not endeavour to account for this remarkable fact, but I think it my duty to state it.
I have shown in a former chapter[237] that the mythological notions of the Delaware Indians prevailed in the same manner among the Wabash; it is not in that alone that those nations resemble each other, though living at a great distance. It is the custom among the Delawares that if a hunter shoots down a deer when another person is present, or even accidentally comes by before the skin is taken off, he presents it to him, saying, “Friend, skin your deer,” and immediately walks off. William Wells, whom I have before spoken of, once paid me this compliment, and when I asked him the reason, he answered that it was the custom among the Indians on the Wabash.
In the year 1792, I travelled with a number of Indian chiefs of various tribes from Post Vincennes to Marietta, and I found in most instances that their usages and customs were the same that I had observed among the Delawares.[238]
The Indians in general, although they understand and speak our language, yet prefer speaking to a white man through an interpreter. For this they give various reasons. With some it is a matter of pride; as their chiefs deliver their public speeches through interpreters, they think that they appear with more dignity when they do the same. Others imagine that their words will have greater weight and effect when expressed in proper grammatical language, while some are afraid of committing mistakes when speaking in an idiom not their own. Particularly when they have a joke to pass, a hint to give, or a shrewd remark to make, they wish it to have all the advantages of a good translation, and that their wit may not be spoiled by a foreign accent, improper expression, or awkward delivery.
Though the Indian is naturally serious, he does not dislike a jest on proper occasions, and will, sometimes, even descend to a pun. Once at a dinner given at Marietta by the late Colonel Sproat,[239] to a number of gentlemen and Indian chiefs of various tribes, a Delaware chief, named George Washington, asked me what the name of our good friend, the Colonel, meant in the Lenape language? It should be observed that Colonel Sproat was remarkably tall. I told him that Sprout (for so the name is pronounced) meant in English a shoot, or twig of a tree. “No, no,” replied the Indian, “no shoot or twig, but the tree itself.”
I have spoken before[240] of the wit of the Indians, and the shrewd and pointed remarks which they occasionally make, but passed rather lightly on the subject. A few characteristic anecdotes will best supply this deficiency.
An Indian who spoke good English, came one day to a house where I was on business, and desired me to ask a man who was there and who owed him some money, to give an order in writing for him to get a little salt at the store, which he would take in part payment of his debt. The man, after reproving the Indian for speaking through an interpreter when he could speak such good English, told him that he must call again in an hour’s time, for he was then too much engaged. The Indian went out and returned at the appointed time, when he was put off again for another hour, and when he came the third time, the other told him he was still engaged, and he must come again in half an hour. My Indian friend’s patience was now exhausted, he turned to me and addressed me thus in his own language: “Tell this man,” said he, “that while I have been waiting for his convenience to give me an order for a little salt, I have had time to think a great deal. I thought that when we Indians want any thing of one another, we serve each other on the spot, or if we cannot, we say so at once, but we never say to any one ‘call again! call again! call again! three times call again!’ Therefore when this man put me off in this manner, I thought that, to be sure, the white people were very ingenious, and probably he was able to do what no body else could. I thought that as it was afternoon when I first came, and he knew I had seven miles to walk to reach my camp, he had it in his power to stop the sun in its course, until it suited him to give me the order that I wanted for a little salt. So thought I, I shall still have day light enough, I shall reach my camp before night, and shall not be obliged to walk in the dark, at the risk of falling and hurting myself by the way. But when I saw that the sun did not wait for him, and I had at least to walk seven miles in an obscure night, I thought then, that it would be better if the white people were to learn something of the Indians.”
I once asked an old Indian acquaintance of mine, who had come with his wife to pay me a visit, where he had been, that I had not seen him for a great while? “Don’t you know,” he answered, “that the white people some time ago summoned us to a treaty, to buy land of them?”[241]—“That is true,” replied I, “I had indeed forgotten it; I thought you was just returned from your fall hunt.”—“No, no,” replied the Indian, “my fall hunt has been lost to me this season; I had to go and get my share of the purchase money for the land we sold.”—“Well then,” said I, “I suppose you got enough to satisfy you?”
Indian. “I can shew you all that I got. I have received such and such articles, (naming them and the quantity of each), do you think that is enough?”
Heckew. “That I cannot know, unless you tell me how much of the land which was sold came to your share.”
Indian. (after considering a little), “Well, you, my friend! know who I am, you know I am a kind of chief. I am, indeed, one, though none of the greatest. Neither am I one of the lowest grade, but I stand about in the middle rank. Now, as such, I think I was entitled to as much land in the tract we sold as would lie within a day’s walk from this spot to a point due north, then a day’s walk from that point to another due west, from thence another day’s walk due south, then a day’s walk to where we now are. Now you can tell me if what I have shewn you is enough for all the land lying between these four marks?”
Heckew. “If you have made your bargain so with the white people, it is all right, and you probably have received your share.”
Indian. “Ah! but the white people made the bargain by themselves, without consulting us. They told us that they would give us so much, and no more.”
Heckew. “Well, and you consented thereto?”
Indian. “What could we do, when they told us that they must have the land, and for such a price? Was it not better to take something than nothing? for they would have the land, and so we took what they gave us.”
Heckew. “Perhaps the goods they gave you came high in price. The goods which come over the great salt water lake sometimes vary in their prices.”
Indian. “The traders sell their goods for just the same prices that they did before, so that I rather think it is the land that has fallen in value. We, Indians, do not understand selling lands to the white people; for when we sell, the price of land is always low; land is then cheap, but when the white people sell it out among themselves, it is always dear, and they are sure to get a high price for it. I had done much better if I had stayed at home and minded my fall hunt. You know I am a pretty good hunter and might have killed a great many deer, sixty, eighty, perhaps a hundred, and besides caught many raccoons, beavers, otters, wild cats, and other animals, while I was at this treaty. I have often killed five, six, and seven deer in one day. Now I have lost nine of the best hunting weeks in the season by going to get what you see! We were told the precise time when we must meet. We came at the very day, but the great white men did not do so, and without them nothing could be done. When after some weeks they at last came, we traded, we sold our lands and received goods in payment, and when that was over, I went to my hunting grounds, but the best time, the rutting time, being over, I killed but a few. Now, help me to count up what I have lost by going to the treaty. Put down eighty deer; say twenty of them were bucks, each buckskin one dollar; then sixty does and young bucks at two skins for a dollar; thirty dollars, and twenty for the old bucks, make fifty dollars lost to me in deer skins. Add, then, twenty dollars more to this for raccoon, beaver, wild cat, black fox, and otter skins, and what does the whole amount to?”
Heckew. “Seventy dollars.”
Indian. “Well, let it be only seventy dollars, but how much might I have bought of the traders for this money! How well we might have lived, I and my family in the woods during that time! How much meat would my wife have dried! how much tallow saved and sold or exchanged for salt, flour, tea and chocolate! All this is now lost to us; and had I not such a good wife (stroking her under the chin) who planted so much corn, and so many beans, pumpkins, squashes, and potatoes last summer, my family would now live most wretchedly. I have learned to be wise by going to treaties, I shall never go there again to sell my land and lose my time.”
I shall conclude this desultory chapter with another anecdote which is strongly characteristic of the good sense of the Indians and shews how much their minds are capable of thought and reflection.
Seating myself once upon a log, by the side of an Indian, who was resting himself there, being at that time actively employed in fencing in his corn-field, I observed to him that he must be very fond of working, as I never saw him idling away his time, as is so common with the Indians. The answer which he returned made considerable impression on my mind; I have remembered it ever since, and I shall try to relate it as nearly in his own words as possible.
“My friend!” said he, “the fishes in the water and the birds in the air and on the earth have taught me to work; by their examples I have been convinced of the necessity of labour and industry. When I was a young man I loitered a great deal about, doing nothing, just like the other Indians, who say that working is only for the whites and the negroes, and that the Indians have been ordained for other purposes, to hunt the deer, and catch the beaver, otter, raccoon and such other animals. But it one day so happened, that while a hunting, I came to the bank of the Susquehannah, where I sat down near the water’s edge to rest a little, and casting my eye on the water, I was forcibly struck when I observed with what industry the Meechgalingus[242] heaped small stones together, to make secure places for their spawn, and all this labour they did with their mouths and bodies without hands! Astonished as well as diverted, I lighted my pipe, sat a while smoking and looking on, when presently a little bird not far from me raised a song which enticed me to look that way; while I was trying to distinguish who the songster was, and catch it with my eyes, its mate, with as much grass as with its bill it could hold, passed close by me and flew into a bush, where I perceived them together busy building their nest and singing as they went along. I entirely forgot that I was a hunting, in order to contemplate the objects I had before me. I saw the birds of the air and the fishes in the water working diligently and cheerfully, and all this without hands! I thought it was strange, and became lost in contemplation! I looked at myself, I saw two long arms, provided with hands and fingers besides, with joints that might be opened and shut at pleasure. I could, when I pleased, take up anything with these hands, hold it fast or let it loose, and carry it along with me as I walked. I observed moreover that I had a strong body capable of bearing fatigue, and supported by two stout legs, with which I could climb to the top of the highest mountains and descend at pleasure into the valleys. And is it possible, said I, that a being so formed as I am, was created to live in idleness, while the birds who have no hands, and nothing but their little bills to help them, work with cheerfulness and without being told to do so? Has then the great Creator of man and of all living creatures given me all these limbs for no purpose? It cannot be; I will try to go to work. I did so, and went away from the village to a spot of good land, built a cabin, enclosed ground, planted corn, and raised cattle. Ever since that time I have enjoyed a good appetite and sound sleep; while the others spend their nights in dancing and are suffering with hunger, I live in plenty; I keep horses, cows, hogs and fowls; I am happy. See! my friend; the birds and fishes have brought me to reflection and taught me to work!”
CHAPTER XLIII.
ADVICE TO TRAVELLERS.
Nothing is so common as the indiscriminate charge laid upon traveller of relating strange and wonderful things for the mere purpose of exciting admiration and raising themselves into consequence. I believe for my part that this accusation is in general unjust as well as unfair, and that travellers seldom impose upon others except when they have been imposed upon themselves. The discredit which they have fallen into is more owing to their errors and mistakes than to wilful imposition and falsehood. It is therefore rendering them and the world an essential service to point out the means of avoiding those deceptions, which if not sufficiently guarded against, will at last destroy all belief in the accounts given by travellers of distant nations and of manners and customs different from our own.
The first and most important thing for a traveller is a competent knowledge of the language of the people among whom he is. Without this knowledge it is impossible that he can acquire a correct notion of their manners and customs and of the opinions which prevail among them. There is little faith to be placed in those numerous vocabularies of the languages of distant nations which are to be found in almost every book of voyages or travels; they are generally full of the most ridiculous mistakes; at least (for I must speak only of what I know) those which relate to the Indian languages of North America. I was some years ago shewn a vocabulary[243] of the idiom of the Indians who inhabited the banks of the Delaware, while Pennsylvania was under the dominion of the Swedes, which idiom was no other than the pure Unami dialect of the Lenape, and I could hardly refrain from laughing at the numerous errors that I observed in it; for instance, the Indian word given for hand in fact means finger. This is enough to shew how carelessly those vocabularies are made, and how little their authors are acquainted with the languages that they pretend to teach.
The cause of these mistakes may be easily accounted for. When pointing to a particular object you ask an Indian how it is called, he never will give you the name of the genus, but always that of the species. Thus, if you point to a tree, and ask for its name, the answer will be oak, beech, chestnut, maple, &c., as the case may be. Thus the Swedish author of the vocabulary that I have mentioned, probably happened to point to a finger, when he asked what was the Indian word for hand, and on receiving the answer, without further enquiry enriched his work with this notable specimen of Indian learning.
When I first went to reside among the Indians, I took great care to learn by heart the words Kœcu k’delloundamen yun? which means What do you call this? Whenever I found the Indians disposed to attend to my enquiries, I would point to particular objects and repeat my formulary, and the answers that they gave I immediately wrote down in a book which I kept for the purpose; at last, when I had written about half a dozen sheets, I found that I had more than a dozen names for “tree” as many for “fish,” and so on with other things, and yet I had not a single generic name. What was still worse, when I pointed to something, repeating the name or one of the names by which I had been taught to call it, I was sure to excite a laugh; and when, in order to be set right, I put the question Kœcu, &c., I would receive for answer a new word or name which I had never heard before. This began to make me believe that everything was not as it should be, and that I was not in the right way to learn the Indian language.
It was not only in substantives or the proper names of things that I found myself almost always mistaken. Those who are not acquainted with the copiousness of the Indian languages, can hardly form an idea of the various shades and combinations of ideas that they can express. For instance, the infinitive Mitzin signifies to eat, and so does Mohoan. Now although the first of these words is sufficiently expressive of the act of eating something, be it what it may, yet the Indians are very attentive to expressing in one word what and how they have eaten, that is to say whether they have been eating something which needed no chewing, as pottage, mush or the like, or something that required the use of the teeth. In the latter case the proper word is mohoan, and in the former guntammen. If an Indian is asked k’dapi mitzi? have you eaten? he will answer n’dapi guntammen, or n’dapi mohoa, according as what he has eaten did or did not require the aid of chewing. If he has eaten of both kinds of provisions at his meal, he will then use the generic word, and say, n’dapi mitzi, which means generally, I have eaten.
These niceties of course escaped me, and what was worse, few of the words I had taken down were correctly written. Essential letters or syllables, which in the rapidity of pronunciation had escaped my ear, were almost everywhere omitted. When I tried to make use of the words which I had so carefully collected, I found I was not understood, and I was at a loss to discover the cause to which I might attribute my want of success in the earnest endeavours that I was making to acquire the Indian tongue.
At last there came an Indian, who was conversant with the English and German, and was much my friend. I hastened to lay before him my learned collection of Indian words, and was very much astonished when he advised me immediately to burn the whole, and write no more. “The first thing,” said he, “that you are to do to learn our language is to get an Indian ear; when that is obtained, no sound, no syllable will ever escape your hearing it, and you will at the same time learn the true pronunciation and how to accent your words properly; the rest will come of itself.” I found he was right. By listening to the natives, and repeating the words to myself as they spoke them, it was not many months before I ventured to converse with them, and finally understood every word they said. The Indians are very proud of a white man’s endeavouring to learn their language; they help him in everything that they can, and it is not their fault if he does not succeed.
The language, then, is the first thing that a traveller ought to endeavour to acquire, at least, so as to be able to make himself understood and to understand others. Without this indispensable requisite he may write about the soil, earth and stones, describe trees and plants that grow on the surface of the land, the birds that fly in the air and the fishes that swim in the waters, but he should by no means attempt to speak of the disposition and characters of the human beings who inhabit the country, and even of their customs and manners, which it is impossible for him to be sufficiently acquainted with. And indeed, even with the advantage of the language, this knowledge is not to be acquired in a short time, so different is the impression which new objects make upon us at first sight, and that which they produce on a nearer view. I could speak the Delaware language very fluently, but I was yet far from being well acquainted with the character and manners of the Lenape.
The Indians are very ready to answer the enquiries that are made respecting the usages of their country. But they are very much disgusted with the manner which they say some white people have of asking them questions on questions, without allowing them time to give a proper answer to any one of them. They, on the contrary, never ask a second question until they have received a full answer to the first. They say of those who do otherwise, that they seem as if they wished to know a thing, yet cared not whether they knew it correctly or properly. There are some men who before the Indians have well understood the question put to them, begin to write down their answers; of these they have no good opinion, thinking that they are writing something unfavourable of them.
There are men who will relate incredible stories of the Indians, and think themselves sufficiently warranted because they have Indian authority for it. But these men ought to know that all an Indian says is not to be relied upon as truth. I do not mean to say that they are addicted to telling falsehoods, for nothing is farther from their character; but they are fond of the marvellous, and when they find a white man inclined to listen to their tales of wonder, or credulous enough to believe their superstitious notions, there are always some among them ready to entertain him with tales of that description, as it gives them an opportunity of diverting themselves in their leisure hours, by relating such fabulous stories, while they laugh at the same time at their being able to deceive a people who think themselves so superior to them in wisdom and knowledge. They are fond of trying white men who come among them, in order to see whether they can act upon them in this way with success. Travellers who cannot speak their language, and are not acquainted with their character, manners and usages, should be more particularly careful not to ask them questions that touch in any manner upon their superstitious notions, or, as they are often considered even by themselves “fabulous amusements.” Nor should a stranger ever display an anxiety to witness scenes of this kind, but rather appear indifferent about them. In this manner he cannot be misled by interested persons or those who have formed a malicious design to deceive him. Whenever such a disposition appears (and it is not difficult to be discovered), questions of this kind should be reserved for another time, and asked in a proper manner before other persons, or of those who would be candid and perhaps let the enquirer into the secret.
I have been led to consider Carver, who otherwise is deserving of credit for the greatest part of what he has written on the character of the Indians, to have been imposed upon in the story which he relates of having learned by means of a conjurer (the chief priest of the Killistenoes, as he calls him) who pretended to have had a conversation with the great Spirit, the precise time when a canoe should come, and certain traders who had been long expected should arrive.[244] Had Carver resided a longer time among the Indians, so as to have acquired a more intimate acquaintance with their customs,[245] he would have known that they have one in particular (which I understand is universal among all the tribes), which would have easily explained to him what he thought so mysterious. Whenever they go out on a journey, whether far or near, and even sometimes when they go out on hunting parties, they always fix a day, on which they either will return, or their friends at home shall hear from them. They are so particular and punctual in “making their word true,” as they call it, that when they find that at the rate they are travelling, they would probably be at home a day or so sooner than the time appointed, they will rather lay by for that time than that their word should not be precisely made good. I have known instances when they might have arrived in very good time the day preceding that which they had appointed, but they rather chose to encamp for the night, though but a few miles distant from their home. They urge a variety of reasons for this conduct. In the first place, they are anxious not to occasion disappointment in any case when they can avoid it. They consider punctuality as an essential virtue, because, they say, much often depends upon it, particularly when they are engaged in wars. Besides, when the day of their return is certainly known, everything is prepared for their reception, and the family are ready with the best that they can provide to set before them on their arrival. If, however, unforeseen circumstances should prevent them from coming all on the same day, one, at least, or more of them, will be sure to arrive, from whom those at home will learn all that they wish to know.
On all important occasions, in which a tribe or body of Indians are concerned or interested, whether they are looking out for the return of an embassy sent to a distant nation, for messengers with an answer on some matter of consequence, for runners despatched by their spies who are watching an enemy’s motions, or for traders who at stated periods every year are sure to meet them at certain places, they always take proper and efficacious measures to prevent being surprised.
The case which appears to have excited so much astonishment in Captain Carver, I believe to have been simply this. The Indians[246] had at the season that he speaks of failed to arrive at the trading place at the time appointed. The Indians who had assembled there for the purpose of meeting them could not be ignorant of the cause of their delay, as they had, no doubt, learned it by the return of some of their runners sent out for that purpose, who, as is their custom, probably informed them that another set of runners would be in the next day with further advices. The priest must have known all this, and the precise spot where those fresh runners were to encamp the night preceding their arrival, which is always well known and understood by means of the regular chain of communication that is kept up. These runners say to each other, pointing to the heavens: “When the sun stands there, I will be here or at such a particular spot,” which they clearly designate. The information thus given is sure to reach in time the chiefs of the nation.
The manner in which this priest spoke to Captain Carver of his pretended intercourse with the great Spirit, clearly shews the deception that he was practising upon him. “The great Spirit,” said he, “has not indeed told me when the persons we expect will be here, but to-morrow, soon after the sun has reached his highest point in the heavens, a canoe will arrive, and the people in that will inform us when the traders will come.” The question, then, which he had put to the great Spirit, “when the traders would come?” was not answered, and there was no need of asking the Mannitto when the canoes should come, for that must have been known already, and that the people in it would tell them where the traders were, and when they might be expected to arrive.
As in or about the year 1774, I was travelling with some Christian Indians, two Indians of the same nation, but strangers to us, fell in with us just as we were going to encamp, and joined us for the night. One of them was an aged grave-looking man, whom I was pleased to see in our company, and I flattered myself with obtaining some information from him, as, according to the Indian custom, age always takes the lead in conversation. I soon, however, perceived, to my great mortification, that he dwelt on subjects which I had neither a taste for nor an ear to hear; for his topic was the supernatural performances of Indians through the agency of an unseen Mannitto. I did not pay any attention to what he said, nor did any of our Christian Indians shew marks of admiration or astonishment at the stories he was telling, but sat in silence smoking their pipes. The speaker having, after an hour’s time, finished his relations, the oldest Indian in my company addressed himself to me and said: “Now you have heard what some Indians can perform. Have you ever heard the like before, and do you believe all you have heard?” “There are,” I answered, “many things that I have heard of the Indians, and which I believe to be true, and such things I like to hear; but there are also things which they relate which I do not believe, and therefore do not wish to know them. While our friend here was just now telling us stories of this kind, which I cannot believe, I was wishing all the time that he might soon have finished and tell us something better.” The Indian, taking the hint in good part, asked me then what things I should like to hear? On which I made this reply: “As you are a man already in years, and much older than myself, you must have seen many things that I have not seen, and heard much that I have not heard. Now I should like to hear the history of your life; where you was born, at what age you shot your first deer, what things you heard of your father and your grandfather relative to old times; where they supposed the Indians to have come from, and what traditions they had respecting them. I should like also to know how many children you have had; how far you have travelled in your lifetime, and what you have seen and heard in your travels. See!” added I, “these are the things that I should like to hear of the Indians; anything of the kind from you will give me pleasure.” The Indian then, highly pleased with my candour, readily complied, and having related everything remarkable that had come within his observation and knowledge, I thanked him, saying that I should never forget him nor what he had now related to me, but that I would try to forget what he had related in the beginning. The Indians who were with me, following the thread of the conversation, continued to entertain us with rational stories, and the evening was spent very agreeably. In the morning, when we parted, the strange Indian whom I had thus rebuked, shook me cordially by the hand, saying: “Friend! you shall never be forgotten by me. Indeed I call you my friend.”
I would take the liberty to recommend to those who may hereafter travel among the Indians, in any part of America, to be particular in their enquiries respecting the connexion of the different nations or tribes with each other, especially when the analogy of their respective languages leads to infer such relationship, as the Indians call it. I beg leave to suggest a few questions, which, I think, ought always to be asked. They may lead to much useful information respecting the various migrations and the original places of residence of the Indian nations, and perhaps produce more important discoveries.
1. What is the name of your tribe? Is it its original name; if not, how was it formerly called?
2. Have you a tradition of your lineal descent as a nation or tribe?
3. To what tribes are you related by blood, and where do they reside?
4. What is your character or rank in the national family?
5. Which among the tribes connected with you is that which you call grandfather?
6. Where is the great council fire of all the nations or tribes connected with yours?
7. How do you address the chiefs and council of such a nation or tribe?
8. What is the badge of your tribe?
From these and other similar questions, much valuable information will probably result. The nation whom another tribe calls grandfather, is certainly the head of the family to which they both belong. At his door burns the “great national council fire,” or, in other words, at the place where he resides with his counsellors, as the great or supreme chief of the national family, the heads of the tribes in the connexion occasionally assemble to deliberate on their common interests; any tribe may have a council fire of its own, but cannot dictate to the other tribes, nor compel any of them to take up the hatchet against an enemy; neither can they conclude a peace for the whole; this power entirely rests with the great national chief, who presides at the council fire of their grandfather.
Indian nations or tribes connected with each other are not always connected by blood or descended from the same original stock. Some are admitted into the connexion by adoption. Such are the Tuscaroras among the Six Nations; such the Cherokees among the Lenni Lenape. Thus, in the year 1779, a deputation of fourteen men came from the Cherokee nation to the council fire of the Delawares, to condole with their grandfather on the loss of their head chief.[247] There are tribes, on the other hand, who have wandered far from the habitations of those connected with them by blood or relationship. It is certain that they can no longer be benefited by the general council fire. They, therefore, become a people by themselves, and pass with us for a separate nation, if they only have a name; nevertheless, (if I am rightly informed) they well know to what stock or nation they originally belonged, and if questioned on that subject, will give correct answers. It is therefore very important to make these enquiries of any tribe or nation that a traveller may find himself among. The analogy of languages is the best and most unequivocal sign of connexion between Indian tribes; yet the absence of that indication should not always be relied upon.
It may not be improper also to mention in this place that the purity or correctness with which a language is spoken, will greatly help to discover who is the head of the national family. For no where is the language so much cultivated as in the vicinity of the great national council fire, where the orators have the best opportunity of displaying their talents. Thus the purest and most elegant dialect of the Lenape language, is that of the Unami or Turtle tribe.
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE INDIANS AND THE WHITES COMPARED.
If lions had painters! This proverbial saying applies with equal force to the American Indians. They have no historians among them, no books, no newspapers, no convenient means of making their grievances known to a sympathising world. Why, then, should not a white man, a Christian, who has spent among them the greatest part of his life, and was treated by them at all times with hospitality and kindness, plead their honest cause, and defend them as they would defend themselves, if they had but the means of bringing their facts and their arguments before an impartial public?
Those who have never taken the pains to enquire into the real character and disposition of the American Indians, naturally suppose, that a people who have no code of laws for their government, but where every man is at liberty to do what he pleases, where men never forget or forgive injuries, and take revenge in their own way, often in the most cruel manner, and are never satisfied until they have been revenged, must of course be barbarians and savages; by which undefined words is understood whatever is bad, wicked, and disgraceful to human nature. Imagination is immediately at work to paint them as a species of monsters, to whom cruelty is an appetite; a sort of human-shaped tigers and panthers, strangers to the finer feelings, and who commit acts of barbarity without any excitement but that of their depraved inclination, and without even suspecting that there are such things in nature as virtue on the one hand and crime on the other.
But nothing is so false as this picture of the Indians. The worst that can be said of them is, that the passion of revenge is so strong in their minds, that it carries them beyond all bounds. But set this aside, and their character is noble and great. They have no written laws, but they have usages founded on the most strict principles of equity and justice. Murder with them is punished with death. It is true, that as was the case not many centuries ago among the most civilised nations of Europe, the death of a man may be compounded for with his surviving relations; if, however, they do not choose to accept of the terms offered, any one of them may become the executioner of the murderer.
Thieves are compelled to restore what they have stolen, or to make satisfactory amends to the injured party; in their default, their nearest relations are obliged to make up the loss. If the thief, after sufficient warning, continues his bad practices, he is disowned by his nation, and any one may put him to death the next time that he is caught in the act of stealing, or that it can be clearly proved to have been committed by him. I have given two instances of the kind in a former chapter,[248] and I recollect another which will put what I have said in the strongest light. I once knew an Indian chief, who had a son of a vicious disposition, addicted to stealing, and who would take no advice. His father, tired and unable to satisfy all the demands which were made upon him for the restitution of articles stolen by his son, at last issued his orders for shooting him the next time he should be guilty of a similar act.
As to crimes and offences of an inferior nature to murder and theft, they are left to the injured party to punish in such manner as he thinks proper. Such are personal insults and threats, which among those people are not considered as slight matters. If the will and intention of the aggressor appear to be bad; if the insult offered is considered as the forerunner of something worse; or, as the Indians express themselves, if the “murdering spirit” is “alive” within him who offers or threatens violence to another, they think themselves justified in preventing the act meditated against them; in such a case, they consider the killing the aggressor as an act of necessity and self defence. Yet it is very rarely, indeed, that such punishments are inflicted.[249] The Indians, in general, avoid giving offence as much as possible. They firmly believe that bad thoughts and actions proceed from the evil spirit, and carefully avoid every thing that is bad.
Every person who is well acquainted with the true character of the Indians will admit that they are peaceable, sociable, obliging, charitable, and hospitable among themselves, and that those virtues are, as it were, a part of their nature. In their ordinary intercourse, they are studious to oblige each other. They neither wrangle nor fight; they live, I believe, as peaceably together as any people on earth, and treat one another with the greatest respect. That they are not devoid of tender feelings has been sufficiently shewn in the course of this work. I do not mean to speak of those whose manners have been corrupted by a long intercourse with the worst class of white men; they are a degenerate race, very different from the true genuine Indians whom I have attempted to describe.
If any one should be disposed to think that I have exaggerated in the picture which I have drawn of these original people, as they call themselves, I appeal to the numerous impartial writers who have given the same testimony respecting them. What says Christopher Columbus himself of the American Indians in his letters to his sovereign? “There are not,” says he, “a better people in the world than these; more affectionate, affable, or mild. They love their neighbours as themselves.”
Similar encomiums were passed on them by some of the first Englishmen who came to settle in this country. The Reverend Mr. Cushman, in a sermon preached at Plymouth in 1620, says: “The Indians are said to be the most cruel and treacherous people in all those parts, even like lions; but to us they have been like lambs, so kind, so submissive and trusty, as a man may truly say, many Christians are not so kind and sincere.”
The learned Dr. Elias Boudinot, of Burlington, in New Jersey (a man well remembered as one of the most eminent leaders of the American Revolution),[250] in a work[251] which, whatever opinion may be entertained of the hypothesis that he contends for, well deserves to be read, for the spirit which it breathes and the facts that it contains, has brought together in one view, the above and many other authorities of eminent men in favour of the American Indians, and in proof that their character is such as I have described. I shall not repeat after him what Las Casas, William Penn, Bryan Edwards, the Abbé Clavigero, Father Charlevoix and others, have said on the same subject; those numerous and weighty testimonies may be found in the work to which I have referred.[252] But I cannot refrain from transcribing the opinion of the venerable author himself, to which his high character, his learning, and independence, affix a more than common degree of authority.
“It is a matter of fact,” says Dr. Boudinot, “proved by most historical accounts, that the Indians, at our first acquaintance with them, generally manifested themselves kind, hospitable and generous to the Europeans, so long as they were treated with justice and humanity. But when they were, from a thirst of gain, over-reached on many occasions, their friends and relations treacherously entrapped and carried away to be sold for slaves, themselves injuriously oppressed, deceived and driven from their lawful and native possessions; what ought to have been expected, but inveterate enmity, hereditary animosity, and a spirit of perpetual revenge? To whom should be attributed the evil passions, cruel practices and vicious habits to which they are now changed, but to those who first set them the example, laid the foundation and then furnished the continual means for propagating and supporting the evil?”[253]
Such was the original character of the Indians, stamped, as it were, upon them by nature; but fifty or sixty years back, whole communities of them bore the stamp of this character, difficult now to be found within the precincts of any part of their territory bordering on the settlements of the white people!
What! will it be asked, can this be a true picture of the character of the Indians; of those brutes, barbarians, savages, men without religion or laws, who commit indiscriminate murders, without distinction of age or sex? Have they not in numberless instances desolated our frontiers, and butchered our people? Have they not violated treaties and deceived the confidence that we placed in them? No, no; they are beasts of prey in the human form; they are men with whom no faith is to be kept, and who ought to be cut off from the face of the earth!
Stop, my friends! hard names and broad assertions are neither reasons nor positive facts. I am not prepared to enter into a discussion with you on the comparative merits or demerits of the Indians and whites; for I am unskilled in argument, and profess only to be a plain matter of fact man. To facts therefore I will appeal. I admit that the Indians have sometimes revenged, cruelly revenged, the accumulated wrongs which they have suffered from unprincipled white men; the love of revenge is a strong passion which their imperfect religious notions have not taught them to subdue. But how often have they been the aggressors in the unequal contests which they have had to sustain with the invaders of their country? In how many various shapes have they not been excited and their passions roused to the utmost fury by acts of cruelty and injustice on the part of the whites, who have made afterwards the country ring with their complaints against the lawless savages, who had not the means of being heard in their defence? I shall not pursue these questions any farther, but let the facts that I am going to relate speak for themselves.
In the summer of the year 1763, some friendly Indians from a distant place, came to Bethlehem to dispose of their peltry for manufactured goods and necessary implements of husbandry. Returning home well satisfied, they put up the first night at a tavern, eight miles distant from this place.[254] The landlord not being at home, his wife took the liberty of encouraging the people who frequented her house for the sake of drinking to abuse those Indians, adding, “That she would freely give a gallon of rum to any one of them that should kill one of these black d——ls.” Other white people from the neighbourhood came in during the night, who also drank freely, made a great deal of noise, and increased the fears of those poor Indians, who, for the greatest part, understanding English, could not but suspect that something bad was intended against their persons. They were not, however, otherwise disturbed: but in the morning, when, after a restless night, they were preparing to set off, they found themselves robbed of some of the most valuable articles they had purchased, and on mentioning this to a man who appeared to be the bar-keeper, they were ordered to leave the house. Not being willing to lose so much property, they retired to some distance into the woods, where, some of them remaining with what was left them, the others returned to Bethlehem and lodged their complaint with a justice of the peace. The magistrate gave them a letter to the landlord, pressing him without delay to restore to the Indians the goods that had been taken from them. But behold! when they delivered that letter to the people at the inn, they were told in answer: “that if they set any value on their lives, they must make off with themselves immediately.” They well understood that they had no other alternative, and prudently departed without having received back any of their goods.[255] Arrived at Nescopeck[256] on the Susquehannah, they fell in with some other Delawares, who had been treated much in the same manner, one of them having had his rifle stolen from him. Here the two parties agreed to take revenge in their own way, for those insults and robberies for which they could obtain no redress; and that they determined to do as soon as war should be again declared by their nation against the English.
Scarcely had these Indians retired, when in another place, about fourteen miles distant from the former, one man, two women and a child, all quiet Indians, were murdered in a most wicked and barbarous manner, by drunken militia officers and their men, for the purpose of getting their horse and the goods they had just purchased.[257] One of the women, falling on her knees, begged in vain for the life of herself and her child, while the other woman, seeing what was doing, made her escape to the barn, where she endeavoured to hide herself on the top of the grain. She however was discovered, and inhumanly thrown down on the threshing floor with such force that her brains flew out.[258]
Here, then, were insults, robberies and murders, all committed within the short space of three months, unatoned for and unrevenged. There was no prospect of obtaining redress; the survivors were therefore obliged to seek some other means to obtain revenge. They did so; the Indians, already exasperated against the English in consequence of repeated outrages, and considering the nation as responsible for the injuries which it did neither prevent nor punish, and for which it did not even offer to make any kind of reparation, at last declared war, and then the injured parties were at liberty to redress themselves for the wrongs they had suffered. They immediately started against the objects of their hatred, and finding their way, unseen and undiscovered, to the inn which had been the scene of the first outrage, they attacked it at daybreak, fired into it on the people within, who were lying in their beds. Strange to relate! the murderers of the man, two women, and child, were among them. They were mortally wounded, and died of their wounds shortly afterwards. The Indians, after leaving this house, murdered by accident an innocent family, having mistaken the house that they meant to attack, after which they returned to their homes.[259]
Now a violent hue and cry was raised against the Indians—no language was too bad, no crimes too black to brand them with. No faith was to be placed in those savages; treaties with them were of no effect; they ought to be cut off from the face of the earth! Such was the language at that time in everybody’s mouth; the newspapers were filled with accounts of the cruelties of the Indians, a variety of false reports were circulated in order to rouse the people against them, while they, the really injured party, having no printing presses among them, could not make known the story of their grievances.
“No faith can be placed in what the Indians promise at treaties; for scarcely is a treaty concluded than they are again murdering us.” Such is our complaint against these unfortunate people; but they will tell you that it is the white men in whom no faith is to placed. They will tell you, that there is not a single instance in which the whites have not violated the engagements that they had made at treaties. They say that when they had ceded lands to the white people, and boundary lines had been established—“firmly established!” beyond which no whites were to settle; scarcely was the treaty signed, when white intruders again were settling and hunting on their lands! It is true that when they preferred their complaints to the government, the government gave them many fair promises, and assured them that men would be sent to remove the intruders by force from the usurped lands. The men, indeed, came, but with chain and compass in their hands, taking surveys of the tracts of good land, which the intruders, from their knowledge of the country, had pointed out to them!
What was then to be done, when those intruders would not go off from the land, but, on the contrary, increased in numbers? “Oh!” said those people, (and I have myself frequently heard this language in the Western country,) “a new treaty will soon give us all this land; nothing is now wanting but a pretence to pick a quarrel with them!” Well, but in what manner is this quarrel to be brought about? A David Owen, a Walker, and many others might, if they were alive, easily answer this question. A precedent, however, may be found, on perusing Mr. Jefferson’s Appendix to his Notes on Virginia. On all occasions, when the object is to murder Indians, strong liquor is the main article required; for when you have them dead drunk, you may do to them as you please, without running the risk of losing your life. And should you find that the laws of your country may reach you where you are, you have only to escape or conceal yourself for a while, until the storm has blown over! I well recollect the time when thieves and murderers of Indians fled from impending punishment across the Susquehannah, where they considered themselves safe; on which account this river had the name given to it of “the rogue’s river.” I have heard other rivers called by similar names.
In the year 1742, the Reverend Mr. Whitefield offered the Nazareth Manor (as it was then called) for sale to the United Brethren.[260] He had already begun to build upon it a spacious stone house, intended as a school house for the education of negro children. The Indians, in the meanwhile, loudly exclaimed against the white people for settling in this part of the country, which had not yet been legally purchased of them, but, as they said, had been obtained by fraud.[261] The Brethren declined purchasing any lands on which the Indian title had not been properly extinguished, wishing to live in peace with all the Indians around them. Count Zinzendorff happened at that time to arrive in the country; he found that the agents of the proprietors would not pay to the Indians the price which they asked for that tract of land; he paid them out of his private purse the whole of the demand which they made in the height of their ill temper, and moreover gave them permission to abide on the land, at their village, (where, by the by, they had a fine large peach orchard,) as long as they should think proper. But among those white men, who afterwards came and settled in the neighbourhood of their tract, there were some who were enemies to the Indians, and a young Irishman, without cause or provocation, murdered their good and highly respected chief Tademi,[262] a man of such an easy and friendly address, that he could not but be loved by all who knew him. This, together with the threats of other persons, ill disposed towards them, was the cause of their leaving their settlement on this manor, and removing to places of greater safety.
It is true, that when flagrant cases of this description occurred, the government, before the Revolution, issued proclamations offering rewards for apprehending the offenders, and in later times, since the country has become more thickly settled, those who had been guilty of such offences were brought before the tribunals to take their trials. But these formalities have proved of little avail. In the first case, the criminals were seldom, if ever, apprehended; in the second, no jury could be found to convict them; for it was no uncommon saying among many of the men of whom juries in the frontier countries were commonly composed, that no man should be put to death for killing an Indian; for it was the same thing as killing a wild beast!
But what shall I say of the conduct of the British agents, or deputy agents, or by whatsoever other name they may be called, who, at the commencement of the American Revolution, openly excited the Indians to kill and destroy all the rebels without distinction? “Kill all the rebels,” they would say, “put them all to death, and spare none.” A veteran chief of the Wyandot nation, who resided near Detroit, observed to one of them that surely it was meant that they should kill men only, and not women and children. “No, no,” was the answer, “kill all, destroy all; nits breed lice!” The brave veteran[263] was so disgusted with this reply, that he refused to go out at all; wishing however to see and converse with his old brother soldiers of the Delaware nation, with whom he had fought against the English in the French war, he took the command of a body of ninety chosen men, and being arrived at the seat of the government of the Delawares, on the Muskingum, he freely communicated to his old comrades (among whom was Glikhican, whom I shall presently have occasion further to mention) what had taken place, and what he had resolved on; saying that he never would be guilty of killing women and children; that this was the first and would be the last of his going out this war; that in ten days they should see him come back with one prisoner only, no scalp to a pole, and no life lost. He kept his word. The sixteen chiefs under him, from respect and principle, agreed to all his proposals and wishes.
How different the conduct of the Indians from that of their inhuman employers! I have already related the noble speech of Captain Pipe to the British Commandant at Detroit, and I have done justice to the character of that brave officer, who surely ought not to be confounded with those Indian agents that I have spoken of. But what said Pipe to him? “Innocence had no part in your quarrels; and therefore I distinguished—I spared. Father! I hope you will not destroy what I have saved!”[264] I have also told the conduct of the two young spirited Delawares[265] who saved the life of the venerable Missionary Zeisberger, at the risk of their own. But it is not only against their own people that Indians have afforded their protection to white men, but against the whites themselves.
In the course of the Revolutionary war, in which (as in all civil commotions) brother was seen fighting against brother, and friend against friend, a party of Indian warriors, with whom one of those white men, who, under colour of attachment to their king, indulged in every sort of crimes, was going out against the settlers on the Ohio, to kill and destroy as they had been ordered. The chief of the expedition had given strict orders not to molest any of the white men who lived with their friends the Christian Indians; yet as they passed near a settlement of these converts, the white man, unmindful of the orders he had received, attempted to shoot two of the Missionaries who were planting potatoes in their field, and though the captain warned him to desist, he still obstinately persisted in his attempt. The chief, in anger, immediately took his gun from him, and kept him under guard until they had reached a considerable distance from the place. I have received this account from the chief himself, who on his return sent word to the Missionaries that they would do well not to go far from home, as they were in too great danger from the white people.
Another white man of the same description, whom I well knew, related with a kind of barbarous exultation, on his return to Detroit from a war excursion with the Indians in which he had been engaged, that the party with which he was, having taken a woman prisoner who had a sucking babe at her breast, he tried to persuade the Indians to kill the child, lest its cries should discover the place where they were; the Indians were unwilling to commit the deed, on which the white man at once jumped up, tore the child from its mother’s arms and taking it by the legs dashed its head against a tree, so that the brains flew out all around. The monster in relating this story said, “The little dog all the time was making wee!” He added, that if he were sure that his old father, who some time before had died in Old Virginia, would, if he had lived longer, have turned rebel, he would go all the way into Virginia, raise the body, and take off his scalp!
Let us now contrast with this the conduct of the Indians. Carver tells us in his travels with what moderation, humanity and delicacy they treat female prisoners, and particularly pregnant women.[266] I refer the reader to the following fact, as an instance of their conduct in such cases. If his admiration is excited by the behaviour of the Indians, I doubt not that his indignation will be raised in an equal degree by that of a white man who unfortunately acts a part in the story.
A party of Delawares, in one of their excursions during the Revolutionary war, took a white female prisoner. The Indian chief, after a march of several days, observed that she was ailing, and was soon convinced (for she was far advanced in her pregnancy) that the time of her delivery was near. He immediately made a halt on the bank of a stream, where at a proper distance from the encampment, he built for her a close hut of peeled barks, gathered dry grass and fern to make her a bed, and placed a blanket at the opening of the dwelling as a substitute for a door. He then kindled a fire, placed a pile of wood near it to feed it occasionally, and placed a kettle of water at hand where she might easily use it. He then took her into her little infirmary, gave her Indian medicines, with directions how to use them, and told her to rest easy and she might be sure that nothing should disturb her. Having done this, he returned to his men, forbade them from making any noise, or disturbing the sick woman in any manner, and told them that he himself should guard her during the night. He did so, and the whole night kept watch before her door, walking backward and forward, to be ready at her call at any moment, in case of extreme necessity. The night passed quietly, but in the morning, as he was walking by on the bank of the stream, seeing him through the crevices, she called to him and presented her babe. The good chief, with tears in his eyes, rejoiced at her safe delivery; he told her not to be uneasy, that he should lay by for a few days and would soon bring her some nourishing food, and some medicines to take. Then going to his encampment, he ordered all his men to go out a hunting, and remained himself to guard the camp.
Now for the reverse of the picture. Among the men whom this chief had under his command, was one of those white vagabonds whom I have before described. The captain was much afraid of him, knowing him to be a bad man; and as he had expressed a great desire to go a hunting with the rest, he believed him gone, and entertained no fears for the woman’s safety. But it was not long before he was undeceived. While he was gone to a small distance to dig roots for his poor patient, he heard her cries, and running with speed to her hut, he was informed by her that the white man had threatened to take her life if she did not immediately throw her child into the river. The Captain, enraged at the cruelty of this man, and the liberty he had taken with his prisoner, hailed him as he was running off, and told him, “That the moment he should miss the child, the tomahawk should be in his head.” After a few days this humane chief placed the woman carefully on a horse, and they went together to the place of their destination, the mother and child doing well. I have heard him relate this story, to which he added, that whenever he should go out on an excursion, he never would suffer a white man to be of his party.
Yet I must acknowledge that I have known an Indian chief who had been guilty of the crime of killing the child of a female prisoner. It was Glikhican,[267] of whom I have before spoken, as one of the friends of the brave Wyandot who expressed so much horror at the order given to him by the Indian agents to murder women and children.[268] In the year 1770, he joined the congregation of the Christian Indians; the details of his conversion are related at large by Loskiel in his History of the Missions.[269] Before that time he had been conspicuous as a warrior and a counsellor, and in oratory it is said he never was surpassed. This man, having joined the French, in the year 1754, or 1755, in their war against the English, and being at that time out with a party of Frenchmen, took, among other prisoners, a young woman named Rachel Abbott, from the Conegocheague settlement,[270] who had at her breast a sucking babe. The incessant cries of the child, the hurry to get off, but above all, the persuasions of his white companions, induced him, much against his inclination, to kill the innocent creature; while the mother, in an agony of grief, and her face suffused with tears, begged that its life might be spared. The woman, however, was brought safe to the Ohio, where she was kindly treated and adopted, and some years afterwards was married to a Delaware chief of respectability, by whom she had several children, who are now living with the Christian Indians in Upper Canada.
Glikhican never forgave himself for having committed this crime, although many times, and long before his becoming a Christian, he had begged the woman’s pardon with tears in his eyes, and received her free and full forgiveness. In vain she pointed out to him all the circumstances that he could have alleged to excuse the deed; in vain she reminded him of his unwillingness at the time, and his having been in a manner compelled to it by his French associates; nothing that she did say could assuage his sorrow or quiet the perturbation of his mind; he called himself a wretch, a monster, a coward (the proud feelings of an Indian must be well understood to judge of the force of this self-accusation), and to the moment of his death the remembrance of this fatal act preyed like a canker worm upon his spirits. I ought to add, that from the time of his conversion, he lived the life of a Christian, and died as such.
The Indians are cruel to their enemies! In some cases they are, but perhaps not more so than white men have sometimes shewn themselves. There have been instances of white men flaying or taking off the skin of Indians who had fallen into their hands, then tanning those skins, or cutting them in pieces, making them up into razor-straps, and exposing those for sale, as was done at or near Pittsburg sometime during the Revolutionary war. Those things are abominations in the eyes of the Indians, who, indeed, when strongly excited, inflict torments on their prisoners and put them to death by cruel tortures, but never are guilty of acts of barbarity in cold blood. Neither do the Delawares and some other Indian nations, ever on any account disturb the ashes of the dead.
The custom of torturing prisoners is of ancient date, and was first introduced as a trial of courage. I have been told, however, that among some tribes it has never been in use; but it must be added that those tribes gave no quarter. The Delawares accuse the Iroquois of having been the inventors of this piece of cruelty, and charge them further with eating the flesh of their prisoners after the torture was over. Be this as it may, there are now but few instances of prisoners being put to death in this manner.
Rare as these barbarous executions now are, I have reason to believe that they would be still less frequent, if proper pains were taken to turn the Indians away from this heathenish custom. Instead of this, it is but too true that they have been excited to cruelty by unprincipled white men, who have joined in their war-feasts, and even added to the barbarity of the scene. Can there be a more brutal act than, after furnishing those savages, as they are called, with implements of war and destruction, to give them an ox to kill and to roast whole, to dance the war dance with them round the slaughtered animal, strike at him, stab him, telling the Indians at the same time: “Strike, stab! Thus you must do to your enemy!” Then taking a piece of the meat, and tearing it with their teeth: “So you must eat his flesh!” and sucking up the juices: “Thus you must drink his blood!” and at last devour the whole as wolves do a carcass. This is what is known to have been done by some of those Indian agents that I have mentioned.
“Is this possible?” the reader will naturally exclaim. Yes, it is possible, and every Indian warrior will tell you that it is true. It has come to me from so many credible sources, that I am forced to believe it. How can the Indians now be reproached with acts of cruelty to which they have been excited by those who pretended to be Christians and civilised men, but who were worse savages than those whom, no doubt, they were ready to brand with that name?
When hostile governments give directions to employ the Indians against their enemies, they surely do not know that such is the manner in which their orders are to be executed; but let me tell them and every government who will descend to employing these auxiliaries, that this is the only way in which their subaltern agents will and can proceed to make their aid effectual. The Indians are not fond of interfering in quarrels not their own, and will not fight with spirit for the mere sake of a livelihood which they can obtain in a more agreeable manner by hunting and their other ordinary occupations. Their passions must be excited, and that is not easily done when they themselves have not received any injury from those against whom they are desired to fight. Behold, then, the abominable course which must unavoidably be resorted to—to induce them to do what?—to lay waste the dwelling of the peaceable cultivator of the land, and to murder his innocent wife and his helpless children! I cannot pursue this subject farther, although I am far from having exhausted it. I have said enough to enable the impartial reader to decide which of the two classes of men, the Indians and the whites, are most justly entitled to the epithets of brutes, barbarians, and savages. It is not for me to anticipate his decision.
But if the Indians, after all, are really those horrid monsters which they are alleged to be, two solemn, serious questions have often occurred to my mind, to which I wish the partisans of that doctrine would give equally serious answers.
1. Can civilised nations, can nations which profess Christianity, be justified in employing people of that description to aid them in fighting their battles against their enemies, Christians like themselves?
2. When such nations offer up their prayers to the throne of the most High, supplicating the Divine Majesty to grant success to their arms, can they, ought they to expect that those prayers will be heard?
I have done. Let me only be permitted, in conclusion, to express my firm belief, the result of much attentive observation and long experience while living among the Indians, that if we would only observe towards them the first and most important precept of our holy religion, “to do to others as we would be done to;” if, instead of employing them to fight our battles, we encouraged them to remain at peace with us and with each other, they might easily be brought to a state of civilisation, and become Christians.
I still indulge the hope that this work will be accomplished by a wise and benevolent government. Thus we shall demonstrate the falsity of the prediction of the Indian prophets, who say: “That when the whites shall have ceased killing the red men, and got all their lands from them, the great tortoise which bears this island upon his back, shall dive down into the deep and drown them all, as he once did before, a great many years ago; and that when he again rises, the Indians shall once more be put in possession of the whole country.”
