“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.[77] 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 banks 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.”
After citing this account a modern writer observes: “forgive me, reader, if, for a moment, I disturb the order of my extract. There is nothing that I know within the whole scope of anecdotal history more affecting than the present narration. How exalted was the humanity of this Indian Chief! how refined his delicacy! how watchful and tender his care! The pathos, though deep, is sweet; and Mr. Heckewelder has communicated the story in a style of feeling and simplicity worthy of it. He has made us witnesses of the transaction. We see through the darkness of the night, the swarthy warrior walking anxiously backward and forward before the hut of bark—the ‘little infirmary’ of the labouring woman. The morning comes; and in the pale dawn, behold! the poor creature, pointing, in a state of utter exhaustion to her babe, delivered in the wilderness—in night and solitude! Yet was she not entirely without support; for, over and above the secret aid which came to her pangs from high, see! she meets with sympathy in a wild man, a stranger, a warrior, who melts into tears at the sight! My heart, too, swells as I read. Bear with me——we will resume our extract.”
“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 away 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 prisoners, 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 the child doing well. I have heard him relate this story, to which he added, that whenever he should go 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. His name was Glikhican. 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’.[78] 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, 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 all edged to excuse the deed; in vain she reminded him of his unwillingness at the time, and his having been in a manner compelled to do 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.”
In the “Report on the condition of the Indians of Upper Canada,” published by the Aborigines Protection Society, we find the following statements respecting the attempts which have been made to civilize them:—
“It is an important additional fact in regard to the light in which the Indians of North America were once looked upon, that their rights are stipulated for in the treaty of Utrecht. But on the other hand, modern writers on the laws of nations seem inclined to exclude them from its benefits. And modern statesmen carry this theory further, so as to sacrifice them by positive injustice in practice. Sir Francis Bond Head recommended the discontinuance of payment due by treaty to certain tribes, on the ground of those tribes being at war with our present allies, the people of the United States; a matter undoubtedly deserving grave consideration, in reference to the point especially raised, namely, the supply of arms; but which also involves a question of international rights, on this occasion much too summarily disposed of by the Canadian governor. Lord Glenelg hesitated to adopt his recommendation, but his lordship does not seem to have taken entirely a just view of the case.[79]
“It is strictly within the limits of truth to say, that neither the Home government, nor the Colonial authorities have acted up to the injunctions of those two documents of 1670, and 1763, which are unquestionably binding to this day; and the extent to which these injunctions have been neglected, fully accounts to us for the ruin of the Indians. That extent is proved,
“First,—By the unjust and improvident manner in which the land of the Indians has been dealt with by us, their insecurity of title, and their actual removal from it in late remarkable cases under an oppressive and fraudulent treaty, and by unjust contracts.