[FN] Governor Cass.
No act has ever been ascribed to Pontiac which would lead us to doubt this conclusion. Nothing like sanguinary disposition, or a disposition to tolerate cruelty in others, belonged to his character. We have observed his treatment of Rogers, at a time when he had no doubt resolved upon war, and when he already felt himself to have been ill-treated by the English. That gentleman relates an anecdote of him which occurred during the war, still more honorable to the chieftain. As a compliment, Rogers sent him a bottle of brandy, by the hands of a Frenchman. His Councilors advised him not to taste it; it must be poisoned, said they, and sent with a design to kill him. But Pontiac laughed at their suspicions. "He cannot," he replied, "he cannot take my life, I have saved his!"
In 1765, an English officer, Lieutenant Frazer, with a company of soldiers, went among the Illinois, where was a French station, at which Pontiac then was,—probably with a view of observing the chieftain's movements. He considered it an aggression, and called upon the French Commandant to deliver his visitors into his bands. The Officer attempted to pacify him, in vain. "You," [the French,] said he, "were the first cause of my striking the English. This is your tomahawk which I hold in my hand." He then ordered his Indians, whom by this time he had mustered in large numbers from the neighborhood, to seize upon the English at once. The order was generally obeyed, but Frazer escaped. The Indians threatened to massacre all the rest, unless he should be given up, upon which, he gallantly came forward, and surrendered to Pontiac.
The sequel is worthy of notice. "With the interest of Pontiac," say the papers of the day, "he [Frazer] got himself and his men back again." On the arrival of another Indian chief; with a white woman for a wife, who did all in their power to exasperate the savages, they seized upon the English again, "But Pontiac ordered them to give the men back," and the order was again obeyed. Frazer wished to stay longer, and Pontiac promised to protect him. He however advised him, considering the disposition of the Indians, to leave the country, and he accordingly went down the river in a batteau, and at length made his way to New-Orleans. "He says, Pontiac is a clever fellow, and had it not been for him, he should never have got away alive."
Of the oratory of the Ottawa Chieftain there remain but few and scanty memorials. Like Philip, he has derived his distinction more from actions than words, and that (as also in Philip's case,) without the aid of any very signal renown as a mere warrior. The only speech of his we have met with, was made on the occasion of a conference with the French at Detroit, held upon the 23d of May, 1763, in the hope of inducing them to join him in the reduction of the fort. The style of delivery cannot now be ascertained; but the reasoning is close and ingenious.
"My Brothers!" he said, "I have no doubt but this war is very troublesome to you, and that my warriors, who are continually passing and re-passing through your settlements, frequently kill your cattle, and injure your property. I am sorry for it, and hope you do not think I am pleased with this conduct of my young men. And as a proof of my friendship, recollect the war you had seventeen years ago, [1746] and the part I took in it. The Northern nations combined together, and came to destroy yon. Who defended you? Was it not myself and my young men? The great Chief Mackinac, [the Turtle] said in Council, that he would carry to his native village the head of your chief warrior, and that he would eat his heart and drink his blood. Did I not then join you, and go to his camp and say to him, if he wished to kill the French, he must pass over my body, and the bodies of my young men? Did I not take hold of the tomahawk with you, and aid you in fighting your battles with Mackinac, and driving him home to his country? Why do you think I would turn my arms against you? Am I not the same French Pontiac, who assisted you seventeen years ago? I am a Frenchman, and I wish to die a Frenchman."
After throwing a war-belt into the midst of the council, he concluded in the following strain:
"My Brothers! I begin to grow tired of this bad meat, which is upon our lands. I begin to see that this is not your case, for instead of assisting us in our war with the English, you are actually assisting them. I have already told you, and I now tell you again, that when I undertook this war, it was only your interest I sought, and that I knew what I was about. I yet know what I am about. This year they must all perish. The Master of Life so orders it. His will is known to us, and we must do as he says. And you, my brothers, who know him better than we do, wish to oppose his will! Until now, I have avoided urging you upon this subject, in the hope, that if you could not aid, you would not injure us. I did not wish to ask you to fight with us against the English, and I did not believe you would take part with them. You will say you are not with them. I know it, but your conduct amounts to the same thing. You will tell them all we do and say. You carry our counsels and plans to them. Now take your choice. You must be entirely French, like ourselves, or entirely English. If you are French, take this belt for yourselves and your young men, and join us. If you are English, we declare war against you." . . .
The man who had the ability and the intrepidity to express himself in this manner, hardly needed either the graces of rhetoric or the powers of the warrior, to enforce that mighty influence which, among every people and under all circumstances, is attached, as closely as shadow to substance, to the energies of a mighty mind. Those energies he exerted, and that influence he possessed, probably beyond all precedent in the history of his race. Hence it is that his memory is still cherished among the tribes of the north. History itself, instead of adding to his character in their eyes, has only reduced him to his true proportions in our own. Tradition still looks upon him as it looked upon the Hercules of the Greeks.