"Speech of Condolence to Captain Claus.
"Brother: We are here now met in the presence of the Spirit above, with intent to keep up the ancient custom of condolement. We therefore condole with you for your late loss of our well-beloved sister, whom now you have interred.
"Brother: We hope that this may not damp your heart so much as to make you forget us, who are your brothers—not only ourselves, but our wives and children.
"Brother: We say now again, that by our late loss, it seems our fire is somewhat extinguished. But we have now found a few brands remaining, and have collected them together, and have raised a straight smoke to the clouds.
"Brother: We therefore with this string of wampum wipe away the tears from your eyes, and would take away all sorrow from your heart. But that is impossible: still, it is the customary way of making the speech. We therefore mention it: and with the said wampum we wipe away all stains of whatever should remain on your seat, so that you may sit down in comfort.
"Brother: We say again with this string of wampum, as you seem to be all in darkness, we with the same string enlighten the skies above us, so that it may appear to us all as it formerly used to do.
"Brother: We say again with this string of wampum, as we have now made our speech of condolement, we hope to raise you upon your feet, as you formerly used to be; for since our late loss, it seems you have been confined as one absent." [FN]
[FN] Captain Claus had been so much affected by the death of his mother, as to be confined to his room; and although he met the Chiefs in council on this occasion, he was unable to reply—-but sent his speech afterward in writing.
"Brother: We hope you will not forget our calamities—hoping that this shock may not put us out of your memory entirely—and also that you may continue to help us, as you formerly used to do.
"Brother: This last string which now I give you, is given by the whole Six Nations, so as to strengthen your mind and body—that you may not be too much cast down by the occasion of our late loss."
An address was likewise transmitted to the council from the women, which was delivered by a sachem called Old Thomas; but a copy has not been preserved. Only the last half sheet of Captain Claus's reply is now to be found. The conclusion was this:—
". . . She was good, and was a friend to you all, as far as she had it in her power, by speaking in your favor always. But was I to continue, I should again bring to my memory her great love for me, and fill my eyes and heart again, so that I could not attend to your affairs. Accept my grateful thanks for your condolence, and allow me to look upon you as my friends—wishing you, and all belonging to you, health and all happiness.
"Brothers, I now address myself again to you. As the business is now over, and you will be turning your faces toward home, I pray to the Great Spirit that he will make your road smooth, and leave no obstacle in the way, that will either hurt or stop you; but that you may get safe home, and meet your friends all well; whom I beg you will salute for me. I shall always be happy to be numbered among your friends."
In private life, the character of Brant was estimable, and in the social circle often very agreeable. The testimony of the Baroness De Reidesel, who met him at the castle at Quebec, has already been cited in a former chapter. During the portion of his life now under review, being the last twelve years, he had many journies to perform,—to the lower province to look after the interests of his own immediate people; to the upper lakes, to keep the chain of friendship with his old confederates from becoming rusty; and to Canandaigua, and elsewhere, to visit his friends, and upon matters of business. In addition to all these, early in the year 1797 he made another visit to Albany and Philadelphia, striking from New-York into New England on his return. [FN] Judging from the tone of a letter which he wrote after his arrival home, to a friend among the upper Indian nations, he must have encountered some unpleasant circumstances during that journey. It was not, however, entirely divested of agreeable associations; and several incidents have been collected by the author, which will serve as better illustrations of his social character than any other in the entire history of his career. An extract from the letter just referred to follows:—
[FN] His quarters in the city of New-York, daring that visit, were at Batton's Hotel, the old brick edifice yet standing on the south corner of Nassau and John streets. The Hon. Jeromus Johnson, of New-York, has furnished the author with an account of a visit made by him to the Chief in that hotel, in company with Dr. Dinglej and the celebrated Dr. Priestley. See Appendix, No. XVI.
"Grand River, July 2, 1797,
"Dear Sir,
"It is some time since I received your letter, and I have already answered it by way of Fort Erie; but I did not in it mention the particulars of my jaunt to the States. In the first place, I met with a very cool reception, insomuch that I did not see any of the great men at Philadelphia. I suppose, by this, that they must have forgot that I was a Yankee when I was there before, and also at the last meeting we had at the foot of the Rapids, when it was reported among you, gentlemen of the Indian department, that I was favoring the Yankee interest. I expected they might have paid a little more attention to me, after the great service you supposed I had done them. I was greatly insulted on the road between Philadelphia and Jersey, by a Yankee colonel whose name I don't recollect, insomuch that the affair was nearly coming to blows. At New-York they were very friendly, and likewise in Connecticut, (in New England,) they were very civil. At Albany there were several people who threatened to kill me behind my back; so that the great men there thought it necessary to send a man with me, as a protector, to the end of the settlement at German Flats. I suppose these people have also forgot that I was a Yankee."
By the term "great men at Philadelphia," the old Chief must have meant the heads of the administration, since he was most hospitably entertained by some distinguished gentlemen then at the seat of government. The attentions which he received from "the great men at Philadelphia," five years before, were bestowed under peculiar circumstances. He was there at that time in a semi-official capacity, and at the urgent solicitation of the government itself; and it was the duty of the government to render all those civilities which might contribute to the pleasure of his visit. The government, moreover, were hoping that important results might flow from that visit, and very marked attentions were the natural consequence. It is, indeed, too much the way of the world—especially of courts, whether republican or monarchical—to caress and flatter where they have a purpose to serve, as in turn the great are caressed and flattered by those hanging upon their favors. But, under the circumstances of this second visit of the Mohawk, divested, as it was, altogether of official character and importance, his expectations of particular official attentions were probably unreasonable. He had seen far too much of the world, and had mingled too much in society of all ranks and conditions, yet to retain the simplicity of unsophisticated nature, and he might therefore have understood his altered position, and spared his sarcasm. Certainly, though he might not have breathed the air of the court, or been shouldered by the factious bandyings of its favorites, he was treated with marked attention by gentlemen at that time of high distinction, and his society much courted. Among others, the late Colonel Burr, then a Senator in Congress, gave him a brilliant dinner party. The Senator had previously been in correspondence with the Chief, and liked him much. Indeed, it was upon the Colonel's invitation that he visited Philadelphia at that time. Among the guests from abroad assembled on that occasion, were the minister of the French Republic; Volney the traveler; Talleyrand, and other distinguished gentlemen of that nation, brought hither by the political troubles of their own country. Knowing his colloquial powers to be very good, and that he had the faculty of rendering himself not only agreeable but fascinating in conversation, the Colonel and his friends were somewhat disappointed, in the earlier stages of the entertainment, at the Chieftain's taciturnity. All the cold reserve of his race seemed to have come over him, and for a while every effort to draw him out in discourse was ineffectual. Meantime the Indians, their character, history, and destiny, became the leading topics of conversation. At length, after various suggestions had been made as to the most feasible and effectual methods of their civilization, Brant suddenly joined in the discussion; treating the subject with good sense, but with alternate gravity and humor. He avowed it as his settled conviction, however, that the only effectual process of civilizing his people, must be their amalgamation with the blood of the whites; that the Indian could only be tamed by intermarriages. Occasionally during his own participation in this discussion, there was a drollery in his manner that created great amusement. During the residue of the evening he contributed his full share to the conversation, exhibiting at all times sterling good sense, and enlivening the hours with sallies of pleasantry and wit which "set the table in a roar." The result was not only an agreeable, but highly intellectual entertainment. [FN]
[FN] Conversations of the author with Colonel Burr, noted down on the day they were held.
On leaving Philadelphia for New-York, Colonel Burr gave the Chief the following letter of introduction to his youthful and gifted daughter Theodosia [FN]—afterward Mrs. Alston:—
[FN] Miss Burr was then in her fourteenth year.
"Colonel Burr to his Daughter.
"Philadelphia, Feb. 28, 1797.
"This will be handed to you by Colonel Brant, the celebrated Indian Chief. I am sure that you and Natalie [FN] will be happy in the opportunity of seeing a man so much renowned. He is a man of education—speaks and writes the English perfectly—and has seen much of Europe and America. Receive him with respect and hospitality. He is not one of those Indians who drink rum, but is quite a gentleman; not one who will make you fine bows, but one who understands and practices what belongs to propriety and good breeding. He has daughters—it you could think of some little present to send to one of them—a pair of ear-rings, for example,—it would please him. You may talk to him very freely, and offer to introduce him to your friend Mr. Witbeck, at Albany. Vale, et ama,
"A.B.
"Miss Theodosia Burr, No. 30 Partition-street, New-York."
[FN] Natalie Delagie, an adopted child of Colonel Burr, born in France, and Subsequently married to a son of General Bumpier, of South Carolina.
Miss Theodosia received the forest Chief with all the courtesy and hospitality suggested; and, young as she was, she performed the honors of her father's house in a manner that must have been as gratifying to her absent parent as it was creditable to herself. Among other attentions, she gave him a dinner party selecting for her guests some of the most eminent gentlemen in the city, among whom were Bishop Moore and Doctors Bard and Hosack. In writing to her father upon the subject, she gave a long and sprightly account of the entertainment. She said that, in making the preliminary arrangements she had been somewhat at a loss in the selection of such dishes as would probably suit the palate of her principal guest. Being a savage warrior, and in view of the many tales she had heard, of
The Cannibals that each other eat,
The anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders—
she added, sportively, that she had a mind to lay the hospital under contribution for a human head, to be served up like a boar's head in ancient hall barberic. But, after all, she found him a most Christian and civilized guest in his manners. [FN]
[FN] Conversations of the author with Colonel Burr. The Colonel was anxious that this letter from his daughter should be found among his papers; but Mr. Davis, his biographer, after diligent search, has not discovered it—nor has he been able to find the correspondence between Brant and Colonel Burr. By the papers of Captain Brant, it appears that Miss Burr visited him at Grand River, after she became Mrs. Alston, in company with her husband. Seeing that when the Chief saw her in New-York "she was very young, and had since assumed a new name," Governor George Clinton gave the young married couple a cordial letter of introduction to the Chief.
It has been seen from his own letter, that the Chief was well pleased during his visit in New-York. He had, indeed, reason to be gratified, for he was treated with marked kindness and consideration. His own deportment was, moreover, such as to secure the respect and esteem of those with whom he came into association. The Rev. Dr. Miller, who became acquainted with him during that visit, in a letter to the author already referred to in a note, thus speaks of him:—"I have called Joseph Brant 'a remarkable man.' He was, in my opinion, truly so. My personal intercourse with him was not considerable; but it was quite sufficient to impress me with most respectful sentiments of his intellectual character, his personal dignity, and his capacity to appear well in any society. I met with him repeatedly;—was with him at a dining party—and listened to his conversation in various situations—some of them rather trying; and was surprised at the simple, easy, polished, and even court-like manners which he was capable of assuming; though, at the same time, I was assured that he was capable of being as great a savage as any individual of his nation. I remember, on one occasion, that when some very impertinent and unseasonable questions were addressed to him by a gentleman who ought to have known better, he evaded them with perfect civility, and at the same time with an adroitness and address which showed that he was fitted to be no mean diplomatist."
Another gentleman, whose opportunities of studying the manners and character of Captain Brant were extended through several years of occasional intercourse with him, remarks:—"His manners, which were greatly improved, if not formed, by a constant intercourse, not only with the best society in the province, but also in England—which he visited more than once, and was there received and caressed in the families of the nobility and gentry—were remarkably easy and dignified. When among strangers, or in mixed company, he was reserved and taciturn; but extremely affable and communicative when with friends in whom he could confide. Although not particularly distinguished as a public speaker, he was a man of strong mind, possessed a voice of surpassing softness and melody, a fascinating address, and great colloquial powers, which rendered him a most interesting companion. He lived in the style of a gentleman, and was punctilious in the observance of the rules of honor and etiquette practised among individuals of that caste in their social relations." [FN]
[FN] Letter to the author, from General Peter B. Porter.
From New-York, the Chief made a trip through Connecticut and into Massachusetts, in the course of which he was well received, as appears from his own letter. At Northampton he purchased an elegant horse, which, greatly to his regret, sickened and died in Albany. [FN]
[FN] My venerable friend Douw Fonda, now of Albany, says Brant was an excellent horseman, and remarkably fond of fine horses. After the death of his Northampton horse he purchased another in Albany, to pay for which Mr. Fonda loaned Him the money. The note for the amount was promptly met at maturity.—Author.
It was during this visit in Albany, that he was again exposed to some danger, by threats against his life. The sufferers of the Mohawk Valley had neither forgotten nor forgiven the ravagers of their country in the Revolutionary war; and "the monster Brant" was still held responsible for every act, either of barbarity, or of death, or devastation, by the wonted usages of war. The Mohawk Germans of that day were neither educated nor discriminating; and knowing that Brant was the great leader of the Indians, they attributed every torch that had been applied, and every butchery committed, to his own single hand. Hence, as has been stated before, it was notoriously the purpose of many in the valley to take his life if possible, during some of his transits through that country. And it is not unlikely that some persons from the valley might have been watching for an opportunity to accomplish the purpose in Albany, as had been desired by a Mohawk German in New-York, during his visit in 1792.
Added to these unpleasant designs, was an incident coming somewhat nearer to the point of action, which is worth recording as an illustration both of history and character. In the account of the ravaging of Cherry Valley, the reader will doubtless recollect the massacre of the entire family of Mr. Wells, with the exception of John, then a lad at school in Schenectady. But that lad was now a member of the bar, of high spirit and uncommon promise. The tragedy by which his whole family had been cut off, had imparted a shade of melancholy to his character, deepening with the lapse of time, and descending with him to the grave. Nineteen years had elapsed since it was enacted; but there was a feeling in the breast of young Wells, which only wanted awakening by opportunity, to prompt a strong desire of avenging the foul murders. He happened to be in Albany during the visit of the Chief, and erroneously looking upon him as the author of the murders, his feelings by proximity became exceedingly bitter and exasperated. Indeed, he could not restrain his desire of revenge; and hastening to the tavern at which Brant had put up, he inquired furiously where he should find his enemy—declaring that he would slay him on the spot. Of course his friends remonstrated, and otherwise opposed his purpose; but it was not without difficulty that he was persuaded to forego it. Brant, hearing the disturbance, asked what caused it; and was told that a young man, whose father had perished at Cherry Valley, was below, and threatening to take his life. His answer was brief, and given with a remarkably fine assumption of dignity and composure. Not a feature changed—not a muscle of his countenance was seen to move—but, slightly drawing himself up as he sat, and his eyes glittering for an instant more keenly, even than was their wont, he said, calmly and quietly, "Let him come on;" and nothing more escaped him on the subject, until word was brought that Mr. Wells had left the house. [FN]
[FN] The particulars of this incident have been derived from William Inman, Esq. now of Leyden, N. Y. who was at the hotel at the time of its occurrence.
It was in consequence of these unpleasant indications that Governor Jay directed a guard to accompany him through the Mohawk Valley on his return to Upper Canada. But, notwithstanding these drawbacks to the pleasure of his visit in Albany, there were circumstances and incidents contributing to render it otherwise than disagreeable on the whole. He was hospitably received and entertained by some of the most respectable citizens; and during that and a subsequent visit, made to Albany in 1805 or 1806, had opportunities of meeting at the festive board some of the veteran officers of the American army, whom he had met in the field, or rather in the forest fights of the frontiers; on which occasions, with the best feelings possible, the old soldiers "fought their battles o'er again," as old soldiers are wont to do. Dining with General Gansevoort, the hero of Fort Stanwix, their conversation turned upon the memorable campaign of Sullivan, and the march of Gansevoort with his regiment at the close of that campaign, through the wilderness from Seneca Lake to Fort Schuyler. Although Gansevoort had no idea that Brant was nearer to him than Niagara, Brant assured him that he was hovering about him during the whole march; and was so near that, to use his own words, "I roasted my venison by the fires that you left." [FN]
[FN] Conversations of the author with Gen. Peter Gansevoort, of Albany, who was present at the dinner, though a lad at the time.
He also met, on one of these occasions, with the late General Philip Van Courtlandt, who had served in the New-York line, and who was one of the expedition of Sullivan and Clinton to Chemung, and thence into the Seneca country. While conversing upon the subject of the battle at Newtown, Brant inquired—"General, while you were standing by a large tree during that battle, how near to your head did a bullet come, which struck a little above you?" The General paused for a moment, and replied—"about two inches above my hat." The Chief then related the circumstances. "I had remarked your activity in the battle," said he, "and calling one of my best marksmen, pointed you out, and directed him to bring you down. He fired, and I saw you dodge your head at the instant I supposed the ball would strike. But as you did not fall, I told my warrior that he had just missed you, and lodged the ball in the tree."
Another incident may be introduced in this connexion, illustrative at once of his sagacity, his strong sense of justice, and his promptness of decision and execution. Among the border settlers west of the Hudson, opposite the Manor of Livingston, was an opulent farmer named Rose. He was an Irishman; and having no child to inherit his wealth, had sent to the Emerald Isle for a nephew, whom he had adopted. In one of Brant's hostile incursions upon the settlements, during the war of the Revolution, Rose and his nephew, with others, were taken prisoners, and marched in the direction of Niagara. During the journey, Brant took Rose aside one morning, and admonished him not to move far away from himself (Brant,) but at all times on their march to keep within call. "I have reason to believe," said the Chief, "that that nephew of yours is plotting your death. He is endeavoring to bribe one of my Indians to kill you. I shall keep an eye upon them, and if I find my suspicions true, I will execute him on the spot." The caution was observed by Rose, and no long time elapsed before Brant informed him that his suspicions were well-founded. The nephew, for the purpose of an earlier possession of his confiding uncle's estate, had agreed upon the price of his murder with the savage who was to do the deed. Having full evidence of the fact, the stern purpose of the Chief was executed upon the ingrate by his own hand, and the life of the uncle was saved. [FN]
[FN] Conversations of the author with General Morgan Lewis, of whose family connexions Rose had purchased his land.
His notions on the subject of public wars were founded, however, upon those of a savage. The reader has already seen that he was perfectly aware of the detestation in which his name was held in different parts of the United States, and particularly among the inhabitants of the Mohawk and Susquehanna countries, where some of the most revolting scenes of savage, Tory, and Indian barbarity were perpetrated during the war of the Revolution, in which he bore so prominent a part; and he always seemed particularly anxious to justify, by frank and gratuitous explanations to those who received him as friends—for he was too proud to make explanations to his enemies—the course he had taken in the commencement and conduct of that war; and his plausible statements and reasonings were well calculated to lessen the horror and execration with which the public have been too prone to regard the Indian character, in consequence of their atrocities in war.
The Indians, he said, engaged in that contest reluctantly, but from necessity. At the period of its commencement, the Americans, he said, as well as they, acknowledged the authority of the British government, and were living under its protection; that none of the inducements which led the colonies to revolt had any place with them, and that they fought against the colonies to protect their women and children, and to preserve the lands which God had given to them, and of which the British authorities threatened to deprive them unless they would join in their defence; and it is apprehended that stronger or better reasons for going to war will rarely be found, even among civilized nations.
In justification of the savages' practices of Indian warfare, his course of reasoning was somewhat like the following: That the object of each party, when engaged in war, was to destroy his enemy, or to weaken and intimidate him so much as to force him into a reasonable peace. The Indians, he said, were destitute of many of the means and implements of war which the white people possessed. They could not successfully contend with them in the open field, man to man, because they had no artillery, so indispensable to, and so destructive in, a field fight. Besides, if they could, the Indians being generally inferior in numerical force to their white enemies, would soon be subdued by an equal sacrifice of man for man; that the Indians had no forts to resort to for protection after a discomfiture in the field; no battering trains to dislodge the enemy after they had retired to theirs; and no depots or jails for securing the prisoners they might capture. The simple and necessary principle, therefore, of Indian warfare, was extermination—to destroy as many of the enemy, and save as many of themselves, as practicable; and for this purpose, to resort to ambuscades, stratagems, and every species of deception, direct or indirect, to effect their object. Brant justified taking the lives of prisoners, but disapproved the practice, so common among savages, of torturing them; and he always maintained that he had himself at different times, by great efforts, saved several, not only from torture, but death. As to taking life, he thought (and with some truth,) that in this respect there was but little practical difference between the red and white men; for the death of an Indian prisoner was as certain a consequence of his capture, as that of a white man taken by the Indians. [FN]
[FN] Conversations of Brant with General Peter B. Porter.
Domestic relations of Brant—Account of his family—Bad character of his eldest son—his death by the hand of his father—Condolence of the Chiefs—Grief of the father at the event—Anxiety for the education of his sons—Proposed memorial to the Duke of Portland—Letter of Brant to Colonel Smith—Correspondence with the Wheelock family—Letter from Brant to James Wheelock—Two of his sons sent to school at Plymouth—Various letters from and to the Wheelocks—Correspondence upon other subjects—Reply to the question, whether the Indians have beards—Letter from Bishop Peters—Views of Brant on imprisonment for debt—Tumuli—Opinion of Brant touching their origin—Indian tradition of white settlements cut off in a single night—Investigations of Samuel Woodruff—-Brant's inquiries in Paris—The discoveries of the Northmen—Review of the life and character of Brant—His death.
The life and character of the Mohawk Chief in his domestic relations, remain to be considered. These have never been accurately illustrated or understood; or rather, they have been greatly misrepresented and misunderstood, from the circumstance of a severe family affliction, the particulars of which have never been truly set before the public. Those even partially acquainted with the domestic history of Brant will readily perceive that reference is here made to the death of one of his sons by his own hands. Several accounts of this unfortunate transaction have been published by travelers, missionaries, and others, but most of them darkly shaded, and reflecting in a greater or less degree upon the father. In the preparation of material for the present work, great efforts have been made to arrive at the truth in regard to this painful incident.
Captain Brant, it will be recollected, was thrice married. By his first wife, the daughter of an Oneida Chief, he had two children, Isaac and Christiana. His great solicitude for the well bringing up of those children has been noted in the early history of his life. By his second wife, the sister of his first, he had no children. By his third he had seven, [FN] the eldest of whom, Joseph, was born in 1783.
[FN] Joseph, Jacob, John, Margaret, Catharine, Mary, and Elizabeth, (the present Mrs. Kerr.) Joseph, John, and Mary, are dead.
Isaac, the eldest of the children, was partly educated at a school in the Valley of the Mohawk, and his education was completed at Niagara. His disposition, bad, from his youth, grew worse as he increased in years, and was not improved by his associations at the military post of Niagara, after the war of the Revolution. Many of the officers on that station were free, sometimes to excess, in their living; and in the progress of his intercourse with them he became addicted to strong drink. When in his cups, he was always quarrelsome, even toward his parents—forgetting the honor due from a son to a father, and particularly disrespectful to his step-mother. As the younger family grew up, he became jealous of them, imagining that they received a larger share of parental favor than his sister and himself. Nothing could have been more groundless than were his suspicions, since from the concurrent testimony of the survivors of the family, and the aged contemporaries of the old Chief yet living at Grand River, no parent was ever more scrupulous in the impartial bestowment of his affection among all his children than Captain Brant. As an evidence of this fact, it may be mentioned, that when in England, in 1786, he sat for his likeness in miniature, which he transmitted in a golden locket to Christiana, the sister of Isaac. Isaac himself, moreover, notwithstanding his untoward conduct, received the most indubitable evidence of parental affection. With a view of keeping him more immediately under his own eye, and if possible reclaiming him, his father had caused him to be married to a beautiful girl, the daughter of a chief of the Turtle tribe, and installed him in the capacity of his own secretary. [FN] But all to no purpose. The demon of jealousy had gained possession of his bosom; and during his drunken frolics, among his Indian associates, he often threatened to take the life of his father. Still, he was treated with kindness, and his step-mother invariably kept silent during his paroxysms of insult and abuse.
[FN] MS. notes of conversations with Brant, by Samuel Woodruff.
His career, however, in addition to his intemperance, without the circle of his own family, was marked by outrage and blood. On one occasion, long before the catastrophe fatal to himself, soon to be recorded, he grievously assaulted a young man, who was riding on horseback on the King's highway—killed the horse, and sadly maimed the young man himself. His father was obliged to pay a large sum of money by way of compensation for the outrage.
Subsequently to this brutal affair, and not long before the painful incident with his father soon to be noted, he killed a white man at the Mohawk (Grand River) village, outright, and in cold blood. The name of his victim was Lowell, a harness-maker by trade. He was busily engaged in his shop at work, when Isaac Brant entered, and said—"Lowell, I am going to kill you." The man, supposing him to be jesting, at first laughed at the threat; and then remarked—"Why should you kill me? I have never injured you, neither have we ever quarreled." The savage then deliberately drew a pistol and shot him.
But his reckless and cruel career was soon arrested, by a death wound, received, under the highest degree of provocation, at the hand of his father. The circumstances were these: At the time of the occurrence there was an assemblage of the Six Nations at Burlington Heights, near to the residence of Colonel Beasley, for the purpose of receiving the annual bounty of the government, consisting of presents of clothing and other articles. On this occasion Isaac, with some of his young Indian companions, again drank to intoxication, and renewed his threats against the life of his father, declaring his intention to kill him that night. The Chief had that evening taken tea with Colonel and Mrs. Beasley, (who then lived near the margin of Burlington Bay,) and afterward walked up to a small inn upon the hill, at a short distance from the Colonel's residence, to lodge for the night. Isaac followed his father to the inn, entered an adjoining room, and began abusing him to the people about, in language perfectly audible to his parent, the two apartments being divided only by a board partition. Becoming quite violent in his conduct, his father entered his son's apartment, but had no sooner done so, than the latter sprang toward him for the purpose of assault—armed, as it was asserted by some, though the fact was denied by others, with a sharp-pointed knife. Be that as it may, the Captain was badly wounded by a cut across the back of his hand. Young Brant had been seized around the waist by some of the Indians, at the instant he was leaping upon his father; while the latter, irritated by the wound, had also been seized in like manner by some white men, to prevent farther injury. The affray was the work of an instant, during which Captain Brant had drawn a large dirk, which he always carried upon his thigh, and with which he struck at his son. In the descent of the blow, the point of the dirk fell upon the head of Isaac, and, cutting through his hat, inflicted a wound which would have been more severe had the position of the parties been that of closer proximity. The wound was by no means considered dangerous at the time it was inflicted, although, from excitement and intoxication, it bled profusely. But such were the rage and violence of the young man, that he resisted all attempts to dress the wound—tearing off the bandages as fast as they could be applied, until, ultimately, they were compelled to bind him fast for the return of sobriety. He then allowed his head to be dressed properly; but the next day he resumed his drinking, and tearing the dressings from his wound, caused it of course to bleed afresh. His perverse conduct continued several days; a severe fever of the brain ensued, and the result was a speedy termination of his life. [FN]
[FN] Such were the real facts of this unhappy affair, as collected, recently, for the use of the author, from the statements of the witnesses of the transaction, and the surviving contemporaries of Captain Brant. And yet Dr. Morse and Dr. Belknap, who in the year following the event were sent forth by the Board of Commissioners of the society established in Scotland for the propagation of Christian Knowledge, to visit the Oneida and Mohokunuh, or Stockbridge Indians, recorded the incident in their report as a murder:—"Last Summer, Joseph Brant, a Mohawk Chief, and a captain in the British service, formerly one of Doctor Wheelock's scholars, murdered his own son, who was, indeed, a bad fellow, and had attempted the life of his father."
This painful transaction took place in the year 1795. The afflicted father immediately surrendered himself to the civil authorities, and resigned the commission which he yet retained in the British service, and upon which he drew half pay. Lord Dorchester, however, would not accept the resignation; and the death of Isaac was universally regarded as in the main accidental, and in any aspect of the case justifiable homicide. [FN] The Chief called a council of his elderly sachems and warriors on the occasion, to whom, when assembled, he related the circumstances of the melancholy catastrophe. After great deliberation—for the Indians never decide hastily upon questions of moment—the council delivered an opinion nearly in the following words:—
[FN] Morse and Belknap's Report to the Scot's Society.
"Brother: We have heard and considered your case. We sympathise with you. You are bereaved of a beloved son. But that son raised his parricidal hand against the kindest of fathers. His death was occasioned by his own crime. With one voice we acquit you of all blame. We tender you our hearty condolence. And may the Great Spirit above, bestow upon you consolation and comfort under your affliction." [FN]
[FN] "The account of this proceeding I received from the Secretary of the Upper Province, at Newark, while at his office to obtain the copy of an Indian deed."—Note by Samuel Woodruff.
But the affliction was a very severe one to the old Chief, notwithstanding the condolence of his people, the convictions of his own conscience that he had not done intentional wrong, and the acquittal of all. Doctor Allen, President of Bowdoin College, has stated, upon the authority of Joseph Brant, jun., that as his father lay upon his bed and looked at the dirk with which the wound was inflicted, and which hung up in his room, he was accustomed to cry in the sorrow of his heart. [FN]
[FN] Allen's Biographical Dictionary. Isaac Brant left a widow and two children. Judge Woodruff, in his notes, says—"The widow and two lovely children which he left, I saw in Brant's family." The eldest of these "lovely children," was Isaac, to whom his grandfather, the old Chief, left a just proportion of his real estate. He also devised an equal proportion of his real estate to his eldest daughter, Christiana. The younger Isaac, however, grew up with the same disposition, and walked in the footsteps of his father. He was nevertheless a brave fellow in the field, and exhibited his prowess during the late war between the United Slates and Great Britain, 1812—15. He was afterward killed in a drunken frolic, at Brantford, by a blow with a gun-barrel, inflicted, as was supposed, by a white man. But so bad had his character become, that his poor mother, then living, seemed rather relieved than otherwise by the occurrence, being in constant fear that he would commit some dreadful act which would bring him to an ignominious end.
Taking all the circumstances of this trying event into consideration, notwithstanding the unfavorable impressions, arising from prejudice and an imperfect knowledge of the facts, that may have prevailed, no just conclusion can be drawn to the disadvantage of the Chief as a parent. While, on the other hand, all the evidence that can be obtained, goes to establish the fact that both in husband and father, his own family circle was most happy. Certainly nothing could have been stronger than his desire for the education and moral culture of his children. Knowing his solicitude upon this subject, and appreciating the disadvantages of his position in that respect, several gentlemen, in the year 1800, suggested to him the expediency of an appeal to the parent government for the education of his sons at the expense of the crown. A memorial for that object, addressed to the Duke of Portland, was drawn up by one of his friends in the Upper Canadian administration, and submitted for his consideration. In this document a strong case was made, arising from the peculiar services which the Captain had rendered to the Crown, and the policy of having his sons educated in sound principles of loyalty. But the Chief peremptorily declined making such an overture. The following is an extract from his letter announcing his determination:—
"Captain Brant to Colonel Smith.
"Grand River, September 20, 1800.
"Dear Sir,
"I have very seriously considered the petition to his Grace the Duke of Portland, for the education of my sons, which your friendship for me prompted you to advise me to make, and must acknowledge the particular satisfaction I feel at this further instance of your inclination to serve me with your friendly advice. I am confident it must have been suggested to your mind from the most friendly motives, of which I have had sufficient proofs since our acquaintance. But I am sorry I cannot altogether comply with your opinion on this point; for, considering the many oppositions I have met with since the establishment of the government of this province, in obtaining what I only considered as our rights, and which indeed seems yet to be in some measure undetermined, I cannot flatter myself with any prospect of succeeding in asking such a particular favor. I therefore decline, purely from the apprehensions of having my feelings farther hurt by a refusal. Notwithstanding, I think such a thing being granted would be extremely for the good of my family, and give me heartfelt satisfaction, could it be obtained for me by my friends, without my running the risk of meeting with farther rebuffs."
The Chieftain's papers afford evidence that an occasional correspondence must have been maintained between Captain Brant and the family of his old preceptor, President Wheelock, for many years. The venerable founder of Moor's Charity School, and subsequently of Dartmouth College, had slept with his fathers, before the close of the Revolutionary war, being succeeded in the presidentship of the college by his eldest son, John Wheelock, Esq., who was recalled from active service in the army, to assume the duties of that station. James Wheelock, another son, had resided near the Chief in Upper Canada, after the conclusion of the Indian wars, and there was a renewal of ancient acquaintance and friendship. During this period, Mr. Wheelock had proposed taking charge of the eldest surviving son, Joseph; and having relinquished the project of applying to the government for assistance in the premises, the Captain once more turned his attention to the land in which, and the friends with whom, forty years before, he had acquired the rudiments of his imperfect education. With this view a correspondence was opened with James Wheelock, and his brother, the president, which was attended by the desired results. Extracts from this correspondence will not be found uninteresting, affording, as they will, farther and very gratifying illustrations of the Chieftain's domestic character:—
"Captain Brant to James Wheelock, Esq.
"Niagara, 3d October, 1800.
"Dear Sir,
"Although it is long since I have had the pleasure of seeing or corresponding with you, still I have not forgot there is such a person in being, and now embrace the kind offer you once made me, in offering to take charge of my son Joseph, whom I certainly should at that time have sent out, had it not been that there was apparently a jealousy subsisting between the British and Americans; however, I hope it is not yet too late. I send both my sons, Joseph and Jacob, who, I doubt not, will be particularly attended to by my friends. I could wish them to be studiously attended to, not only as to their education, but likewise as to their morals in particular; this no doubt is needless mentioning, as I know of old, and from personal experience at your seminary, that these things are paid strict attention to. Let my sons be at what schools soever, your overseeing them will be highly flattering to me. I should by this opportunity have wrote Mr. John Wheelock on the same subject, but a hurry of business at this time prevents me. I shall hereafter take the first opportunity of dropping him a few lines; until when, please make my best respects to him, and I earnestly solicit his friendship and attention to my boys, which be assured of, I shall ever gratefully acknowledge. I am, dear Sir, wishing you and your family health and happiness,
"Your friend and well wisher, Jos. Brant.
"Mr. James Wheelock."