Extract from a MS. Letter—William Smith, Jr., to ——.
“New York, 22d Nov. 1763.
“’Tis an old saying that the Devil is easier raised than laid. Sir Jeffrey has found it so, with these Indian Demons. They have cut his little Army to Pieces, & almost if not entirely obstructed the Communication to the Detroite, where the Enemy are grown very numerous; and from whence I fancy you’ll soon hear, if any survive to relate them, very tragical Accounts. The Besiegers are led on by an enterprising Fellow called Pondiac. He is a Genius, for he possesses great Bravery, Art, & Oratory, & has had the Address to get himself not only at the Head of his Conquerors, but elected Generalissimo of all the confederate Forces now acting against us—Perhaps he may deserve to be called the Mithridates of the West.”
[210] Rogers, North America, 240.
[211] Gouin’s Account, MS.
[212] Rogers, North America, 244.
[213] Tradition related by M. François Baby.
[214] Tradition related by M. François Baby, of Windsor, U. C., the son of Pontiac’s friend, who lives opposite Detroit, upon nearly the same site formerly occupied by his father’s house. Though Pontiac at this time assumed the attitude of a protector of the Canadians, he had previously, according to the anonymous Diary of the Siege, bullied them exceedingly, compelling them to plough land for him, and do other work. Once he forced them to carry him in a sedan chair from house to house, to look for provisions.
[215] Penn. Gaz. No. 1807. MS. Letter—Wilkins to Amherst, June 18.
This incident may have suggested the story told by Mrs. Grant, in her Memoirs of an American Lady. A young British officer, of noble birth, had been living for some time among the Indians, and having encountered many strange adventures, he was now returning in a canoe with a party of his late associates,—none of them, it appears, were aware that hostilities existed,—and approached the schooner just before the attack commenced, expecting a friendly reception. Sir Robert D——, the young officer, was in Indian costume, and, wishing to surprise his friends, he made no answer when hailed from the vessel, whereupon he was instantly fired at and killed.—The story is without confirmation, in any contemporary document, and, indeed, is impossible in itself. Sir Robert Davers was killed, as before mentioned, near Lake St. Clair; but neither in his character, nor in the mode of his death, did he at all resemble the romantic adventurer whose fate is commemorated by Mrs. Grant.