CHAPTER XV.
1763.
The Fight of Bloody Bridge.
Dalzell’s Detachment.—Dalzell reaches Detroit.—Stratagem of the Wyandots.—Night Attack on Pontiac’s Camp.—Indian Ambuscade.—Retreat of the English.—Terror of Dalzell’s Troops.—Death of Dalzell.—Defence of Campau’s House.—Grant conducts the Retreat.—Exultation of the Indians.—Defence of the Schooner Gladwyn. 226
CHAPTER XVI.
1763.
Michillimackinac.
The Voyager on the Lakes.—Michillimackinac in 1763.—Green Bay and Ste. Marie.—The Northern Wilderness.—Tribes of the Lakes.—Adventures of a Trader.—Speech of Minavavana.—Arrival of English Troops.—Disposition of the Indians.—The Ojibwa War-chief.—Ambassador from Pontiac.—Sinister Designs of the Ojibwas.—Warnings of Danger.—Wawatam.—Eve of the Massacre. 238
CHAPTER XVII.
1763.
The Massacre.
The King’s Birthday.—Heedlessness of the Garrison.—Indian Ball-play.—The Stratagem.—Slaughter of the Soldiers.—Escape of Alexander Henry.—His appalling Situation.—His Hiding-place discovered.—Survivors of the Massacre.—Plan of retaking the Fort.—Adventures of Henry.—Unexpected Behavior of the Ottawas.—They take Possession of the Fort.—Their Council with the Ojibwas.—Henry and his Fellow-prisoners.—He is rescued by Wawatam.—Cannibalism.—Panic among the Conquerors.—They retire to Mackinaw.—The Island of Mackinaw.—Indian Carouse.—Famine among the Indians.—They disperse to their Wintering Grounds.—Green Bay. The neighboring Tribes.—Gorell. His Address and Prudence.—He conciliates the Indians.—He abandons Green Bay.—The English driven from the Upper Lakes. 249
Chapter I. INTRODUCTORY.—INDIAN TRIBES EAST OF THE MISSISSIPPI.
The Indian is a true child of the forest and the desert. The wastes and solitudes of nature are his congenial home. His haughty mind is imbued with the spirit of the wilderness, and the light of civilization falls on him with a blighting power. His unruly pride and untamed freedom are in harmony with the lonely mountains, cataracts, and rivers among which he dwells; and primitive America, with her savage scenery and savage men, opens to the imagination a boundless world, unmatched in wild sublimity.
The Indians east of the Mississippi may be divided into several great families, each distinguished by a radical peculiarity of language. In their moral and intellectual, their social and political state, these various families exhibit strong shades of distinction; but, before pointing them out, I shall indicate a few prominent characteristics, which, faintly or distinctly, mark the whole in common.
All are alike a race of hunters, sustaining life wholly, or in part, by the fruits of the chase. Each family is split into tribes; and these tribes, by the exigencies of the hunter life, are again divided into sub-tribes, bands, or villages, often scattered far asunder, over a wide extent of wilderness. Unhappily for the strength and harmony of the Indian race, each tribe is prone to regard itself, not as the member of a great whole, but as a sovereign and independent nation, often arrogating to itself an importance superior to all the rest of mankind;[1] and the warrior whose petty horde might muster a few scores of half-starved fighting men, strikes his hand upon his heart, and exclaims, in all the pride of patriotism, “I am a Menomone.”
In an Indian community, each man is his own master. He abhors restraint, and owns no other authority than his own capricious will; and yet this wild notion of liberty is not inconsistent with certain gradations of rank and influence. Each tribe has its sachem, or civil chief, whose office is in a manner hereditary, and, among many, though by no means among all tribes, descends in the female line; so that the brother of the incumbent, or the son of his sister, and not his own son, is the rightful successor to his dignities.[2] If, however, in the opinion of the old men and subordinate chiefs, the heir should be disqualified for the exercise of the office by cowardice, incapacity, or any defect of character, they do not scruple to discard him, and elect another in his place, usually fixing their choice on one of his relatives. The office of the sachem is no enviable one. He has neither laws to administer nor power to enforce his commands. His counsellors are the inferior chiefs and principal men of the tribe; and he never sets himself in opposition to the popular will, which is the sovereign power of these savage democracies. His province is to advise, and not to dictate; but, should he be a man of energy, talent, and address, and especially should he be supported by numerous relatives and friends, he may often acquire no small measure of respect and power. A clear distinction is drawn between the civil and military authority, though both are often united in the same person. The functions of war-chief may, for the most part, be exercised by any one whose prowess and reputation are sufficient to induce the young men to follow him to battle; and he may, whenever he thinks proper, raise a band of volunteers, and go out against the common enemy.
We might imagine that a society so loosely framed would soon resolve itself into anarchy; yet this is not the case, and an Indian village is singularly free from wranglings and petty strife. Several causes conspire to this result. The necessities of the hunter life, preventing the accumulation of large communities, make more stringent organization needless; while a species of self-control, inculcated from childhood upon every individual, enforced by a sentiment of dignity and manhood, and greatly aided by the peculiar temperament of the race, tends strongly to the promotion of harmony. Though he owns no law, the Indian is inflexible in his adherence to ancient usages and customs; and the principle of hero-worship, which belongs to his nature, inspires him with deep respect for the sages and captains of his tribe. The very rudeness of his condition, and the absence of the passions which wealth, luxury, and the other incidents of civilization engender, are favorable to internal harmony; and to the same cause must likewise be ascribed too many of his virtues, which would quickly vanish, were he elevated from his savage state.
A peculiar social institution exists among the Indians, very curious in its character; and though I am not prepared to say that it may be traced through all the tribes east of the Mississippi, yet its prevalence is so general, and its influence on political relations so important, as to claim especial attention. Indian communities, independently of their local distribution into tribes, bands, and villages, are composed of several distinct clans. Each clan has its emblem, consisting of the figure of some bird, beast, or reptile; and each is distinguished by the name of the animal which it thus bears as its device; as, for example, the clan of the Wolf, the Deer, the Otter, or the Hawk. In the language of the Algonquins, these emblems are known by the name of Totems.[3] The members of the same clan, being connected, or supposed to be so, by ties of kindred, more or less remote, are prohibited from intermarriage. Thus Wolf cannot marry Wolf; but he may, if he chooses, take a wife from the clan of Hawks, or any other clan but his own. It follows that when this prohibition is rigidly observed, no single clan can live apart from the rest; but the whole must be mingled together, and in every family the husband and wife must be of different clans.
To different totems attach different degrees of rank and dignity; and those of the Bear, the Tortoise, and the Wolf are among the first in honor. Each man is proud of his badge, jealously asserting its claims to respect; and the members of the same clan, though they may, perhaps,