To a spectator and stranger to Indian Councils, the most interesting part was the extemporaneous speeches of the chiefs; which were delivered longer, or shorter, by more or less, on every day of the public deliberations. The principal speakers were four of the Menomenie chiefs; two of the Winnebagoes; and two, and sometimes a third and fourth, of the New York Indians.
The elocution of the New York Indians was unadorned in style, and mild in manner. Resting principally upon their written communications, they had not much to say. Their education and long intercourse with the whites had entirely disrobed them of the native wildness of Indian eloquence. John Metoxen, however, an aged and venerable chief, of the Stockbridges—(than whom a man of more exalted worth cannot be found on earth)—on the last day of the Council, as all attempts at reconciliation and adjustment of differences had failed, addressed himself sentimentally to his brethren of the Menomenies and Winnebagoes; and also to the Commissioners, in a strain most sublime and touching; and with a respect and delicacy, towards the feelings of all concerned, unrivalled. Metoxen is about sixty years old, and head chief of his tribe. By his language and manner he first brought us into the presence of God, so that we felt ourselves to be there. Even the wild Indians are a most religious people, and a pattern of piety to many, who are called Christians. That is: they always acknowledge a superintending Providence. They never begin, nor end a speech, without a reference to the Great Spirit. But John Metoxen is a Christian;—and he has enlightened and practical views of the Christian’s God;—and on the occasion now under consideration he made us feel his superiority, not only as a Christian, but as a man. He appealed to the solemn engagements of the New York Indians on one hand, and of the Menomenies and Winnebagoes on the other, as the original contracting parties, now at variance; he called on the Commissioners to witness the repeated and solemn pledges of Government, to secure the fulfilment of these engagements; he depicted the anxious progress and unfortunate result of the present Council; with inimitable delicacy and becoming manliness he freely confessed his diffidence in the present measures of Government, relating to this affair; he solemnly declared, that his only confidence now rested in the God of nations, who had propounded himself the guardian of the oppressed, and the avenger of their wrongs;—and whatever might become of himself, of his family, or of his people, he felt, that it was now his last and only prerogative, to surrender their cause into the hands of their God. “God is witness,” said he, lifting up his eyes to heaven. “Brothers, I have no more to say.”[14]
It is due, that I should say something of the speeches of the wild Menomenies and Winnebagoes. No conception of romance, in my own mind, had ever reached the wildness and extravagance of their thoughts, or of their manner of expressing them. And besides this, they are not wanting in shrewdness, and what perhaps, in more dignified bodies, would be called parliamentary device. For instance: it had happened, that the Commissioners, in their summonses sent to these tribes, had not served upon them a copy of their letter of instructions from the President, as they had done to the New York tribes;—judging, not unwisely, that the Winnebagoes and Menomenies would have little occasion for the litera scripta. But before they would consent to proceed in the business of the Council, they demanded to be made equal to the New York Indians in this particular; and as there seemed to be so much propriety and argument in the requisition, the Court rubbed their faces in confusion, promised them a copy, and adjourned.
The next day, the Winnebagoes and Menomenies still refused to go on for want of an interpreter. It had happened, the day previous, that the Commissioners had promised to provide for these tribes, in this particular, and to submit to their own nomination, notwithstanding that they had brought along the public interpreter from Detroit. But the young man, a half-blood, named by these Indians, to discharge this office, thinking himself equal to a Member of Congress, demanded eight dollars (1l. 12s.) per day. Whereupon the Commissioners demurred, and sent the Indians word, that they might get their own interpreter, if they did not like the one employed by the Commissioners. The Indians, however, thought better; and concluded to hold the Commissioners to their engagement. Council being assembled, the new interpreter was not at his post. “What is the matter?”—said the Court. One of the chiefs rose and said: “Our Fathers told us yesterday, they would provide us an interpreter; and our Fathers are true men”—and then sat down. The crowd of barbarians roared out their applause, in the most wild and tumultuous manner; the whites joined with them—and the Commissioners, confounded, ordered an adjournment again; and having grown wiser by this schooling, engaged the interpreter, as was understood, on his own terms.
The wild Indians are not bad in managing the few facts, which they have in their possession; and they are certainly possessed of unrivalled skill in magnifying trifles and dignifying nothings. They will deliver themselves of the following sentence, (which by the by is only one word:)—“Yerensotavakarangetakowa”—in a manner to astound all one’s senses, and raise the highest expectation. And lo! when it comes to be interpreted, it reads:—“the greatest fiddle possible”—alias, a church organ, which he had seen in the white man’s council-house; and which he wished to describe to his own people. The Menomenie and Winnebago chiefs uniformly commenced their addresses, or speeches, and almost every sentence—(after waiting for the interpreter to perform his office)—with a strong, monosyllabic exclamation, involving very emphatically the guttural and aspirate elements, and signifying:—“Attention—hear—I am about to speak.” It would be mockery for any but an Indian to attempt to exemplify it. The chiefs would always address themselves directly to the Commissioners, and with the greatest possible vehemence, as if they understood; and when they had finished a sentence, they would wait for the interpreter. I do not remember to have heard a single sentence from a Winnebago, or Menomenie chief, in Council, whether the subject were important, or trifling, or in whatever degree it might have either of these characters, when it was not superlatively marked with a loud and vehement elocution, and an impassioned and violent manner; as if the fate of the world, or of the universe, were pending on the question, or the thought. If the sentiment uttered met with the approbation of their people, a deep and loud guttural, or ventral grunt, and sometimes a boisterous uproar, would express their applause. This single, ventral expression of approbation, if it might be called so, was apt to be heard, at the end of every sentence, when they were gratified. And I question, whether any orators of a civilized people, ancient or modern, were ever better supported by the generous applause and loud acclamations of their auditors. It was impossible not to observe the increased animation of the speakers, from this cause; as also the quick sympathy, between themselves and their people. If the thought, when interpreted, seemed trifling to us, it was not always so to them. Indians, like children, are often amused with trifles; and not unfrequently exhaust their gravest meditations on trifles: like children they can be pleased, and even delighted with a toy. But sometimes they stand up, and show themselves like men; and men of the highest order. They are not great by education, but on the instant, for the particular occasion. “There is a spirit in man, and God hath given him understanding.” Nature is in the Indians;—and when a high demand, an imperative call challenges its proof, it comes like the lightning, and astounds like the thunder; whether it be in the council-house, or from the battle ambush. And now and then, during the deliberations of this Council, we had these proofs of Indian sagacity and power, not to be despised. For a sentimental appeal, a delicate allusion, or a sublime flight, when occasion puts him to it, the Indian is unrivalled; and for the keenness of wit, and the severity of sarcasm, he is not wanting. For the generosity of his nature, it is without bounds. I have already spoken of some of these characteristics.
Of power over sentiment, I would quote the following: It was intimated to the Indians, by the Commissioners, towards the close of the deliberations, that the usual presents from Government, at the breaking up of such occasions, would be withheld, because they had refused to come to an adjustment of differences. One of the Menomenie chiefs saw at a glance the desolateness of their prospects, and rose instantly from his seat, and made the following speech: “Fathers,” said he, “when you sent to call us to this Council, we were building canoes to gather the wild rice, that our families might have bread to eat in the winter. But, as soon as we heard your voice, we left our canoes unfinished, and came directly to this place. Fathers—the rice harvest is now come, our canoes are not built—and we shall have no bread for our families.” And when it is understood, that the first wind that blows, after the wild rice is ready for harvest, will waste it all, the force of this appeal can better be appreciated. It was, in the circumstances and manner, altogether overpowering, and moved the Commissioners to grant the usual presents.
Indian speeches, in public council, always abound in religious sentiments, or in a grateful recognition of Divine Providence; and in friendly congratulations. This sort of religion may be accounted for, perhaps, from their own child-like improvidence, and their more immediate dependence on the providence of God. Their other affections are also so child-like, that friendship and kindness are dear to them, as they are to children. I may say in one word: that the speeches of the Indian chiefs, on these occasions, demonstrated almost every attribute of greatness and littleness—much to admire and much to laugh at.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE CHARGE OF INDIAN AFFAIRS IN THE WAR DEPARTMENT, &c.
It might perhaps be expected, that I should give more of the political character of this Council, and make the Court itself as conspicuous, as the place they occupied; that I should report their progress in order, and develope their transactions in detail, from beginning to end. But the execution of the entire of such a plan, I am disposed to think, would not be very edifying. I have wished all along to keep, as near as possible, to that course, which might throw the most light on these two questions:—What are the American Indians? And what is to become of them? And this is the course I still mean to pursue, under my best endeavours, to the end. There are circumstances and features of this Council, yet untouched, that are worthy of notice for such an object.
It is proper to observe, that all the affairs of the Indians, in their connexion and intercourse and official transactions with the Government of the United States, are in charge of the War Department. With what propriety and for what reasons, I am unable to say. Neither can I say confidently, that there is any impropriety, except that the name wears somewhat of a belligerent character, and would not naturally lead one to expect so much kindness from such a quarter, as the Indians have an undoubted right to claim. We may hope, indeed, that this is not the reason, that such a perpetual war has been waged upon Indian rights, and threatens still to be carried on. I am quite sure, that this business was not originally committed to that department of government for such an object; and if we are to look to the temperament of the War Department, for the secret of these troubles, the sooner a motion is made and carried, that this charge be transferred to another office, or that a new department be created for this specific object, the better.