The sufferings of this place during the late war, are scarcely describable. The apprehension of death is far more terrible than actual dissolution. After the capitulation of General Hull, Detroit was thronged by Indians, and they were continually making the most aggravating requisitions. These they enforced by savage threats. There was not a moment of domestic peace for any one. The inhabitants did not dare to fasten their doors: for if they did the Indians would cut them to pieces with their tomahawks, and revenge the opposition upon the inmates of the house. When families were about to sit down to their tables, the Indians would come in, drive every one out of the room, and feast themselves. Their constant demand, at every dwelling, was for [123] whiskey; and to grant or refuse it was attended with great danger. If it were granted, intoxication and consequent bloodshed would be the effects; and upon a refusal, the Indians would present their long knives and threaten immediate death.
A lady, who resided at Detroit whilst it was in possession of the British, and who is remarkable for her good sense and intrepidity, related to me the above and many other facts relative to this trying state of things. She said, that upon one occasion several Indians came to her house, and upon their approach it was thought advisable for her husband to conceal himself in the garret. The Indians demanded whiskey of her; and upon being told that there was none in the house, they presented several knives to her breast, and in their rude English called her a liar. Although in momentary expectation of death, she still denied her having whiskey. Her husband, hearing the bustle below came down, and with the assistance of two or three others, who accidentally came that way, drave the Indians from the house. Immediate revenge was anticipated. It was the practice of the Indians, particularly at this time, to resent the smallest opposition. Supported by their civilized patrons, they felt their consequence; and their pride was as easily touched as that of a savageized Englishman. The house of the lady was soon surrounded, and day after day the Indians came to search for her husband; but not being able to find him, the object was, apparently, abandoned.
Immediately after the massacre at the River Raisin, the inhabitants of Detroit were called upon to witness a heart-rending scene. The Indians from this field of carnage were continually arriving at the city, and passing through its streets, with poles laden with reeking scalps.
I am here disposed to make a few remarks relative [124] to the late war. I know that in so doing I shall incur censure; but I write for those who are too noble to conceal their defeats, and too modest to proclaim their victories. The genius, and energy, and resources of the United States should have accomplished every thing.
I confess that I did not rejoice at the beams of peace. Premature peace does not promote the cause of humanity. We declared war for the defence of essential rights, which had, in the wantonness of power, been repeatedly invaded. In this war we sought indemnity for the past, and security for the future;—that security which punishment extorts from injustice:—that security which the fine and the lash guarantees to honest and peaceable communities. Did we effect our object? —Oh no! Whatever may have been our victories, our defeats were disgraceful. The administrators of the government were deficient in information, in system, and in energy. They sought an effect without an adequate cause; and the people sacrificed the glory of the country to the pride of political competition. As to the opposition, they pursued false morals until they lost sight of true patriotism.
There was virtue enough in the community; but affliction was necessary to raise it from the ruins of thoughtless and passionate rivalry. We were upon the eve of humiliation,—the eve of new, and omnipotent moral impulse, when peace unexpectedly presented herself. Not the peace which the victor magnanimously gives to the humbled foe, but that peace which misguided apprehension yields to the dark calculations of policy. The British Lion ceased to roar, and instead of contending until we had pared his princely paws, we were ready to forgive and to embrace him. Our own Eagle despised us; and with a fearless, anxious eye, and ruffled plume, [125] retired to the elevated and gloomy promontory of her glory and her disappointment.
It is the general opinion at Detroit, that Hull was prompted to surrender the place, not by bribery, but by cowardice. Could he have seen the dreadful and humiliating consequences which actually arose from this base and unpardonable step, the suggestions of conscience would have controuled his apprehensions, and his brave men would not have been deprived of their fame. Indescribable must be the feelings of patriotism and courage, when official cowardice yields them to a foe, whom their hearts have already conquered. The brave man regards his friends and his country a thousand times more than himself; and he would court a hundred deaths rather than wound their feelings, or forfeit their love. In the hour of danger, when the national flag is assailed, his soul tells him that his countrymen will hear of this, and he dedicates himself to battle, to glory, and to death! But I am sensible that there is a higher principle: the man who fears no evil so much as self-reproach, will always do his duty.
Immediately upon the capitulation of Hull, a Yankee soldier of the 4th regiment thought it high time for him to take care of himself; and he immediately devised a plan by which he hoped to outwit General Brock. The soldier secretly left the fort, went to a barber and had his hair and whiskers closely shaved; and then obtained from a tailor such garments as were most fashionable for traders. After remaining about the city for a few days, this citizen-soldier applied to the British General for the necessary passes, stating that he had come to Detroit for the purposes of trade, &c. The General kindly referred him to the proper officer, his passes were promptly prepared, and he returned to his friends.
[126] I will now commence my proposed excursion above Detroit.
The strait called the river Detroit becomes enlarged just above Hog Island,[[109]] and forms Lake St. Clair. This lake is about twenty-five miles in length. Its depth is inconsiderable. The principal islands in it are Harsen’s, Hay, Peach, and Thompson’s. Formerly there were several Indian tribes situated on the western side of this Lake; and the Ontaonais[[110]] occupied the other side: but the Iroquois, a fierce, bloody, and restless tribe, have long since dispossessed them.