And are these the people, who, as the white men say, can never be cultivated?—these the people to be driven from one place to another, “till they have no rest for the sole of their foot?”—till they are compelled “in the morning to say—would God it were evening—and in the evening, would God it were morning?”—whom it is right to rob, a virtue to abuse, and pardonable to have annihilated?
While the Stockbridges had planted their tribe at the Grande Kawkawlin, on the east bank of Fox River, and in the course of some half-dozen years, reared a flourishing settle settlement; built houses and barns in the usual style of the white settlements in similar circumstances; cleared away portions of the forest, and reduced their farms to an interesting state of improvement; organized and brought into salutary operation a political and civil economy; established schools and the ordinances of Christianity; began to improve the water-power opposite their village by the erection of mills and machinery;—exhibiting, in a word, a most interesting phasis of civilization, along with the purest morals, under the simplest manners;—their state of society being rather of the patriarchal form, and governed by hereditary chiefs, according to the immemorial custom of Indian tribes;—contemporaneously with the establishment of this settlement, the Oneidas, under the auspices of the Rev. Mr. Williams and his associate chiefs, had planted themselves at Duck Creek, on the west of the river, eight miles from its mouth, and twenty in a northerly direction from the Stockbridges. The Duck Creek settlement is five miles in retreat from the line of Fox River, situate on a small stream, from which it is named. The Oneida tribe, if my notes are correct, is somewhat more numerous than the Stockbridge, amounting perhaps to seven or eight hundred. The English language is not in common use among them, although it is being cultivated in their schools, along with their own. The Rev. Mr. Williams, their Christian pastor, preaches to them uniformly in their native tongue. Their improvements are equally interesting, and of the same general character, with those of the Stockbridges. They have farms, dwelling-houses, school-houses, barns, and in 1830 were building a very decent Christian Church, which is doubtless finished before this, and appropriated to its holy uses. The traveller, as he passes their former settlement, in Oneida County, State of New York, discovers a little distance from the main road on the south, a beautiful white church, with its spire pointing to the heavens. It was built by these Oneidas, and there they worshipped the white man’s God, and adored the white man’s Saviour, before they were compelled to leave it behind them, and build another in this distant region.
Mr. Williams’s house, as before noticed, stands alone, on the margin of Fox River, in the midst of the lands, the title of which would have vested in his wife, but for the unrighteous suits at law, which are likely to eject him, and leave him destitute;—lands, which would not only provide well for his family, if suffered to be retained by him, but a portion of them was marked out and consecrated in his purpose, as the site of a future and most important literary and scientific Institution, for the education of Indian youth. And when we reflect upon the nobleness of this purpose, its enlarged scope, and the apparent feasibility of the plan, with the prospects under which it was conceived; when we regard the character of the man, who formed the design, and his means of influence to carry it into execution, had the territory remained undisturbed; when we think, that he is probably the only man of the age, who could lead in such an enterprise, with promise of its ultimate and full consummation; and that with the blasting of his hopes, and the breaking down of his courage, are likely to come the blighting of all hope and the prostration of all courage among those tribes, for their future elevation and importance;—we cannot look upon the untoward events, which have befallen the New York Indians, since their removal to that quarter, but with feelings of deep and unutterable regret. The historian of the rise and fall of empires ordinarily points out to us the nice and critical events, on which was suspended their weal, or woe. And I am almost enough inclined to take up the burden and lamentations of a prophet, over the events now under consideration, and say:—I know not how the Indian tribes of that region can rise above this wreck of their hopes. There is a way, indeed, hereafter to be considered, which leaves a glimmering of hope behind—but involving at the same time numerous contingencies of deep anxiety;—a way, which must necessarily transfer the theatre, and defer the consummation of the object. Here, in the North-West Territory, the door is for ever closed. These once hopeful instruments, and this individual man, will have laboured in vain—except, as the disclosure and ascertainment of their injuries shall awaken a repentance and a sympathy in the bosom of that community, which ought, long ago, to have thrown in the shield of its protection, and saved the Indians from these disasters. And even then, such a man, as Mr. Williams, cannot be raised from the grave. Or, if he should be among the living, (which is not very probable) a state of health worn out, and a constitution broken down, by these cares;—a mind, originally vigorous and heroic, but the courage of which has been well nigh subdued by this irresistible accumulation of calamity over the heads of his race—would require little less than a miracle to fit him to cherish again the hopes, and again to wield the burden of such an enterprise, as he must have the credit of having once conceived. May a Phœnix yet arise from the ashes of his hopes consumed, and wing its way to a brighter destiny.
For the information of the reader, it is suitable to acquaint him yet farther with the relations of the New York Indians to their wilder brethren of the North-West, in consequence of their purchase and removal—and also with the unexpected encroachments they suffered from the whites—before we enter upon the doings of the Commissioners.
Although there are several nations (as the Indian tribes are often called) in the North-West, yet as two only occupied and claimed the territory, where the New York Indians chose to settle, their negotiations were principally confined to those tribes—viz. the Menomenies and Winnebagoes. It was of these nations they purchased, and with them, that they entered into friendly alliances and solemn covenants, under the auspices of Government in 1821-22. They had succeeded in cultivating friendship, and in persuading the native tribes to abandon their wild habits, and adopt the arts and customs of civilized life;—so far, as to gain their consent, and the manifestation of an earnest purpose;-although it is well understood, that a transition from barbarism to civilization, is never instantaneous, but the process of time, and pains, and slow degrees. Such was a prominent object of this alliance, both with the Government originally, and with the New York Indians; and such was the agreement and understanding of the parties. Such was the prospect in the outset, and in the first stages of the operation of this alliance; and there is no reason to suppose, that it would have been interrupted, but for the interference of white men, who were interested in breaking up these relations, and in leading on the parties to open rupture and irreconcileable hostility. And they have succeeded but too well. The Menomenies and Winnebagoes, once friendly, are now the implacable enemies of their brethren from the East. They have been persuaded, that the New York Indians came there, not to help the North-West Tribes, and improve their condition, as professed;—but to overreach and root them out. The old French settlers have been brought into the league, not only by their influence, but by being encouraged to assert vexatious claims over Indian lands, and bring actions for ejectment;—or to sell their claims to those, who know better how to manage them. White citizens from the States have flocked in, to fill the public offices, to occupy the posts of trade, and to anticipate the means of future wealth, which an organized and independent Government will afford them;—all alike interested in the ejectment of their immediate predecessors;—and all this in violation of the original understanding between the New York Indians and the General Government. And as white men are always superior to Indians, in all matters of business, in political management, and in commercial transactions; so in the present instance have they thoroughly established themselves by converting all possible influences in their own favour, and against their opponents. The Menomenies and Winnebagoes have been put forward to contest with the tribes from New York—to express their dissatisfactions to their great Father, the President—to impeach the Covenants, under which they had sold their lands—to ask for special Commissions to investigate and settle the disputes;—and the result, the meanwhile, being anticipated, the territory has been occupied, and the white settlements commenced, as if no question, as to right, were pending, and no doubt entertained of the future removal of the Indians. And while I am writing these pages I have learned, that three of the most considerable tribes of the North-West Territory, viz. the Winnebagoes, the Saukes, and the Foxes, have already been persuaded to sell their lands to the United States, and agreed to go beyond the Mississippi. The other wild tribes, no doubt, will soon follow them;—and the New York Indians will find themselves in the same situation, as they were before they removed. That is:-surrounded by the whites, and permitted to retain such reservations of land, as will not materially interfere with the political designs of those, who have thrown them within such narrow limits. It will be understood, then, that the tribes more immediately brought into controversy with the New York Indians, were the Winnebagoes and Menomenies; who in the whole affair have obeyed the instructions of those interested white people, that had gained an ascendency over them, for their own purposes. “These poor Menomenies and Winnebagoes,” it was said, “have been overreached, and robbed of their hunting and fishing grounds, by their more crafty brethren from New York. We wish to see their lands restored.” For what? The honest answer would have been:—“That we may get them ourselves.” These men felt a great deal of sympathy for the wild tribes, so long as their lands were under the control of Indians, who had learned, by experience, how to keep them from the white man. That is:—They had learned how, so far as any dependence was to be put in covenants. But the moment this country is wrested from the New York Indians, all their tender scruples vanish; and they are ready to enter immediately into negotiations, that shall place the same lands in their own power, and compel the former possessors to retire into an unknown wilderness! “But, they say, we give them a fair and honourable price.” What? The value in the market of the white man? The price negotiated for some millions of acres in this very territory, in 1832, was less than the half of a farthing per acre!!! “But, we give them another country.” Where is it? And what is it? And, if it be good for any thing, how long will they be permitted to stay there?
It had occupied from twelve to fifteen days, after the arrival of the Commissioners at Green Bay, to convene the public Council ordered and contemplated. The day fixed for organizing its sessions was the 24th of August. In the mean time runners they are called among Indians, and as in fact they are, (couriers) were despatched to all the tribes interested in the public deliberations about to be opened, to notify them of the time, place, and object of the Convention. They were formally served with copies of letters from their great Father, the President of the United States, assuring them of his good wishes, and of his desire to bring all their disputes to an amicable and satisfactory adjustment; and that for this purpose he had sent Erastus Root, John T. Mason, and James M’Call, good and true men, to hold a talk13 with his children in the North-West, who had quarrelled among themselves, and asked their great Father’s mediations;—to hear all they might have to say on either side;—to recommend peace and a just settlement of their disputes;—to remove all occasions of the improper interference of their great Father’s white children;—and then to come back to the Council-house of the great nation at Washington, and say: “All the sores are healed.” And this would give their great Father much happiness.
Such was the substance of the notices sent to the chiefs of the tribes, as in a plural number of instances I heard them delivered and interpreted;—kind enough certainly, and very promising. And these notices were accompanied by a certified copy of the particular instructions, given to the Commissioners, and investing them with their powers;—setting forth the understanding of the case in that department of Government at Washington, whose duty it is to superintend this sort of business;—prescribing the course of procedure, and controlling the result.
As a question afterwards arose, whether it was proper thus to have made these instructions public, and some regret was manifested by the Commissioners, that they had done so, instead of keeping them in their own power, I shall take no advantage of an official inadvertence, which was afterwards regretted by the board of Commissioners. I have already recognized the bearings of these instructions in another place. As I have sufficient reasons to believe, that notwithstanding they had the formal sanction of the Government, the construction of them was yet resigned to a private discretion, which was previously inclined to what I esteem to be the wrong side, I am not ambitious to expose them. This supposed history of the instructions may, perhaps, save the conscience of the highest authorities, in this particular item. They did not understand the case; and it was convenient to leave the matter in hands, where it ought not to have been left. But, whatever results might come, the President of the United States would of course be compromitted, and must sanction them.
Nor would I insinuate, that there was any thing in these instructions, more or less, than, that, in the first place:—they were based upon incorrect information, and assumed facts, which had had no existence;—and next, that they left no power with the Commissioners to do right, and obliged them to do wrong, if they did any thing.
Even if the Commissioners had been left to their own unrestricted discretion, it was no easy matter for them to come at the right of the case. There were moral obstacles in their way: they were in the confidence of an administration, the general policy of which, in regard to the Indians, was known to be:—to throw them all west of the Mississippi. They must have some respect, therefore, to the trust, which had been reposed in them by supreme authority. And next:—the influence of the North-West, in support of the administration, to which the Commissioners were devoted, was worth something. They must not be astounded by the manifestation of a determination in the Commissioners to restore the original rights of the Indians;—or to assume, as a basis of their deliberations, the first covenants between the New York Indians and the wild tribes of the North-West Territory. That would never do. The Green Bay settlement of whites had already been commenced. Men, too important to the party in power, to be despised, were already planted there; and had a great interest at stake in the organization of the North-West Territory into a separate government. To think, therefore, of throwing a bar in their way, and circumventing their designs, would be running a risk, which could not conveniently be hazarded. It was prudent, therefore, to assume, that this territory must become a separate State;—and that nothing must be done by this Commission, that would interfere with such a purpose.
Besides:—the confusion and contradiction of testimony, while opening their ears to all parties, would naturally afford abundant materials of an apology for pursuing a middle course—and of swerving even towards that side, which it might be deemed most important to please. And although their decisions, controlled by such considerations, might not be a final settlement of the dispute; yet they would afford some plausibility of defence against the complaints of either party, and leave open the door for the consummation of the designs of only one;—and which that one might be, it is unnecessary to say.
It was curious, and in no small degree interesting, to observe the arrangements making among the Indians for the public Convocation of the 24th of August. Some several days beforehand, Indian canoes were seen floating and gliding along on the placid bosom of Fox River, part of them coming down the current from the south and west, and part coming up from the shores of the Bay, towards the place of rendezvous, near Fort Howard, on the north bank and some four or five miles from the mouth of the river, in the heart of what is called the settlement of Green Bay:—all filled with men, women, and children, and with tackle, not for war, but to build lodges. In other words, they brought their families, their houses, and all their furniture of life, with them. For the last two or three days previous, the number flocking in greatly augmented;—and the very last day before the 24th was a time of great bustle and activity. The river literally swarmed with canoes. And all along its banks on either side, within a mile of the point fixed upon to hold the Council, lodges of Indians might be seen, single or in clusters, teeming with their peculiar and various population of men, women, children, dogs, pet bears, pet foxes, &c. &c. It is understood, of course, that I am now speaking of wild Indians. Those belonging to the same tribe manifested a disposition to concentrate at one point, and maintain the exclusive occupancy of the position.
The Menomenians took up their position on the plain behind the fort, on the north bank of the river;—and there in the course of two or three days built a town. For so it seemed—and so it was—a town of Indian lodges, grouped and thrown together without any order, every new comer setting up his tent, as near to those already established, as possible; until many acres of the plain were completely covered, and exhibited a rare spectacle to the eye. An Indian lodge is neither larger, nor higher, than a soldier’s tent—it is itself properly a tent; and is as soon taken down and as soon set up. The fashion and show of it are as unsightly as can well be imagined—covered with large sheets of birch bark, and encircled by a wall composed perhaps of a yard-wide matting, woven from some coarse vegetable substance, not unlike the bulrush. Some of the lodges are entirely open to the weather. The ground is their floor and their bed, except as some of them can afford a piece of matting;—a blanket the ordinary and principal article of clothing, except as parts of the person are concealed by some slight and loose articles of undress. Females, that can afford it, are fond of gaudy and glaring calicoes, for a short gown; and will tie around them a yard square of blue woollen, for a petticoat, without a stitch bestowed upon it; the list, or border, running around the bottom, being regarded as ornamental. The addition of a pair of scarlet gaiters, buck-skin moccasins, a string of beads, and beaver hat, would make a perfect lady. But few are seen making such an extravagant show. Displays of this sort belong to the privileged orders.
But I was speaking of this town of the Menomenies, which so suddenly, and so much like enchantment sprung into being before our eyes, on the north bank of Fox River. I rose one morning a little after the sun, having lodged on the opposite bank; and as the clouds of fog, resting upon the river, began to break and float away, my eye caught, through the shifting openings of the mist, a glance or two of what seemed a great city, reflecting the rays of the morning sun; and of the lazy columns of smoke, issuing from countless chimnies:—all for the moment a perfect illusion. The fog was soon gone—and lo! it was the Menomenie city of lodges! To visit them, and go among them, and see how they live, does not present their condition as at all enviable. Wild Indians are generally an indolent, sordid, and filthy race—sunk into some of the lowest conditions of barbarism.
The Winnebagoes, for the most part, made their encampment on the south side of the river, not differing materially from those of the Menomenies, except in not being so extensive. The whole number of Indians collected on this occasion was perhaps a little less than three thousand;—it being intended only as a convocation of the chiefs. But curiosity, and the hope of participating in the gratuitous distributions of some food, and whiskey, and trifling articles, which are commonly made by the Government on such occasions, had brought them together. It is humiliating and painful to be obliged to witness the sordid passion of the wild Indian, which not only allows him to receive a gift from the hand of a white man; but which, like the hungry spaniel, causes him to jump at the veriest and vilest crumb, which the white man throws at his feet. It shows but too well, how much and how altogether the Indian is in the white man’s power.
I have been painfully struck and often deeply affected, at the proofs I had at Green Bay, of the extreme and unguarded susceptibility of the Indians, of being injured in morals and manners, and of being precipitated to irretrievable ruin, by intercourse with vicious and unprincipled white men. To make a gain of their simplicity, is by no means the greatest offence. The dishonour sometimes done to the fairest of their women, is frightful. If the Government had any suitable parental care over the Indians, whom it calls children; and calls them so, I think, more in mockery, than in propriety; and whose filial confidence it inspires only to gain advantage over their credulity; (I declare it as a consequence, rather than an intent) it would certainly never authorise these public occasions. They are demoralising beyond all estimation—fearfully so. It is not simply a season of dissipation—it is a time of absolute and uninterrupted riot—a riot of drunkenness and debauchery.
It has been said, that the Indian is constitutionally adapted to drunkenness, when he can get the means, and to its consequent vices and ruin; and that there is no use in trying to save him. They are a race devoted to the doom of annihilation. In other words:—the sooner there is an end of them, the better;—as they occupy ground, which can be more usefully appropriated. I would not ascribe this shocking morality—this inhumanity—this sentiment, which proves the man, who utters it, more a savage and ruthless barbarian, than the race which he proscribes;—no, I would not ascribe it to any considerable portion of a community. But yet—it has been said. And more: it is a leaven of no inconsiderable influence. I would be glad to believe, that it has no influence with men, who are to be found in high places.
Is it necessary to say, that this charge is as egregiously unphilosophical, as it is atrociously cruel and libellous? I have called it inhuman; it is all that; it is barbarous. The Indian, in his wild condition, is an uncultivated and simple child of nature; and in addition to this, and to account for the whole, it is only necessary to say:—that the Indian is a man. It is not essential to bring in a doctrine of the Christian religion;—common experience is enough, to prove, that human nature, unprotected, will catch vice. The Indian loves excitement, without regard to consequence;—because he is too simple to reckon upon consequences. Ardent spirits produce at once that delightful and romantic delirium, in which he likes to revel; and having once tasted the sweets of the intoxicating draught, and being without education and without the influences of a cultivated society to protect him, and without character to lose, (for intemperance among Indians is not dishonourable) is it strange, that he should seek that exemption, which it affords, from a sense of the hardships, and from the cares of his destitute condition? Is it strange, that he should fly to the arms of that delicious enjoyment, which it yields to the grosser affections of his uncultivated nature? If, with all the protections of a refined education, and under all the checks and remonstrances of civilized society, with the loss of character impending, and the foresight of certain ruin, temporal and eternal, so many thousands of the best and the highest are daily falling victims to this insinuating foe of human happiness—shall it be said, that the untutored Indian alone is constitutionally disposed;—that he is born a drunkard;—and that there is no salvation for him?—It is disgraceful—it is abominable—it is as cruel as it is unchristian.
I protest, therefore, on the ground of humanity—and if it were possible, I would make the notes of my remonstrance ring in the conscience-chamber of the highest authorities, at the city of Washington, until they might blush, and be made afraid of the wrath of heaven, so long as they are accustomed to appoint and hold these public negotiations with the Indian tribes, under circumstances so demoralizing and so ruinous. The Indian comes to such a place with his family, comparatively uncorrupt. They come from their remote and quiet abodes, and from an even tenor of life. Neither he, nor they can resist temptation. They receive presents; and what is worst of all, whisky is dealt out to them, at the order of the Commissioners; they buy it at the shops of the white man; and then all is wildness and tumult. The Indian is no longer himself. They riot together in intemperance, and the worst of vices. They lie drunk in heaps. You cannot walk abroad, but you must dodge to keep out of the way of the staggering and furious Indian. The grey-headed chief and the well-formed and athletic youth reel along the way together. The mother and her daughter and her little child are often seen in the same condition.
As we dropped anchor in the river on our first arrival, attracted by curiosity, several Indian canoes came along-side, in which I observed a number of the natives of a more respectable condition,—and for them, well-dressed. Some of them displayed silver ornaments of no inconsiderable value, (for which they are very partial) lying upon their shoulders and neck, and suspended from their ears and nose. Among the rest I saw a beautiful young woman, richly dressed, full of smiles, and really charming. She stood, and moved, and shone in all her maiden pride and loveliness. The next day, as I was walking along the banks of the river, with company, I met this same young woman, but thoroughly transformed. Her beaver-hat was laid aside—her hair dishevelled—her costly dress and ornaments, if still retained, were all hidden by a blanket, thrown over her shoulders, and covering the whole person—and with a countenance dejected and disconsolate, and her eye fixed upon the ground, she moaned piteously along the way, regarding none, and with a voice, which though sweetly musical, yet fell upon the ear in such plaintive and thrilling intonations, as to reveal at once all her conscious wretchedness, and challenge the deepest sympathy. “What is the matter with that girl?” I asked. “She has, doubtless, been tempted to drink, and then dishonoured, and is now deserted by a white man; and she sees and feels her irretrievable ruin, and is too simple a child of nature not to betray it!” “But may it not be supposed, that she has been injured by one of her own tribe?” “Never—never.” The second person of this brief dialogue was a man, whose opinion, in such a matter, may be respected.
The Commissioners and suite had taken lodgings at an inn on the south bank of Fox River, about half a mile from Fort Howard, which is on the opposite side, and down the stream. A number of strangers also were in lodgings at the same house;—that being the only establishment of the kind in the settlement. As a consequence it was the natural centre of the Indians, the French, and the citizens of the States, who were hovering about, either from interest or curiosity, to witness the exhibitions of the occasion and the doings of the Convention. Directly opposite this inn, on the north bank, the Commissioners had caused to be erected what is vulgarly called, in the back woods of America, a shanty; and which signifies a temporary shelter, got up to answer a present necessity. This shanty, or shantee, was merely a roof of rough boards, covering perhaps a space of thirty by sixty feet, with a long and rough table crossing one end, to accommodate the court and their secretaries; and the rest of the ground under cover was filled up with ranges of forms, or planks, resting on blocks of wood, for the chiefs, and for other Indians, who might choose to be spectators. There being no sides, or walls to the shanty, an indefinite multitude of persons, who could not get under the roof, might stand without. This temporary structure, it is to be understood, was set upon an open plain, not only because there was no public hall, or building, in the settlement, adapted to the purpose; but more especially to afford a freedom of access and retreat to the natives, who could not comfortably endure confinement. Here they might come near, or stand a little way off, or squat down, or lie down, as suited themselves;—and smoke their pipes, and indulge in any and all of their odd freaks and whimsical manners.
All things being arranged on the morning of the 24th, the chiefs of the tribes, who were interested in the deliberations to be opened, being assembled, in pursuance of the notices, which had been served upon them, at the order of the Commissioners; and the flat-bottomed ferry boat, being put in requisition for the occasion, and drawn to the shore, the Honourable the Commissioners, their secretaries, interpreters, some of the chiefs, and strangers—as many as the boat could conveniently receive—began to make demonstration of a grave and solemn movement towards the place of grave and solemn deliberation;—accompanied, as they crossed the stream, by numerous skiffs and canoes, filled with all sorts, whites and Indians, old and young, male and female, ragged or otherwise;—not indeed a very splendid cortège.
The Honourable Commissioners, having landed on the other shore, with all due solemnity and decorum, took their seats, supported by their secretaries;—and the motley crew of spectators began to crowd around. Directly in front of the Commissioners, and face to face, the chiefs of the Indian tribes arranged themselves, with such formalities, as might be peculiar to each nation, rather comical, and not a little amusing.
The chiefs of the Menomenies, however, were wanting in the group. A message was sent to their camp, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, that their Fathers, the Commissioners, were waiting their attendance. But their immobility of temper suffered no shock. They were not ready. Another messenger was despatched. But still their movements were in no wise hurried. They could not understand, but that all the world, if needs be, must wait their convenience. The Court grew impatient, and began to feel annoyed at the disrespect. The crowd of spectators also manifested symptoms of uneasiness, and began to apprehend some little storm of collision; and perhaps a failure of the amusing transactions anticipated. By and by, however, were seen in the distance, and slowly approaching, a solemn procession, halting occasionally, making strange evolutions, apparently performing certain mysterious rites, and holding converse with invisible agencies. They came near, they retreated, they traced circles and other more irregular figures, and pleased themselves, in the time they occupied in getting to the place of assembling. At last they stood without the booth, halting, still multiplying and varying their mysterious rites. They faced, and looked upon the Court with imperturbable gravity, seeming to say:—“You will wait our pleasure.” Their manners, indeed, and the delay they occasioned, were not a little provoking to our patience. With the same grave and solemn mien the chiefs entered the pavilion, with pipe and tomahawk in hand, and occupied the vacant seats assigned to them;—imposing an awe, alike upon the Commissioners and spectators, by their strange and unaccountable demonstrations. Not a feature of their countenance was seen to move.
Indians always enter upon public and important deliberations with great formality. And the Menomenies, being by far more numerous than the Winnebagoes on the present occasion, making three-fourths of the entire assemblage,—and to whom all the country about Green Bay originally belonged,—that is, before it was assumed by the whites,—seemed disposed to make more of the pending solemnities;—or at least, were more tardy in the completion of their preliminary forms. In the present instance, the formality of a council-fire was dispensed with; for what reason I know not, unless that it was not considered purely an Indian Council. The pipe of friendship, however, the bowl being silver and stuck to a tube of four feet long, was solemnly filled with tobacco, and solemnly lighted, and solemnly presented to the President of the Court, who solemnly took one solemn whiff;—and then with the same solemnity it was passed to the second and third members of the Court, who solemnly puffed in their turn;—but all with a grace and dignity, infinitely inferior to the manner of the chiefs. The latter understood it. But the Court, alas! were extremely awkward and embarrassed. But when it came to the chiefs successively, it was a sublime sight! I will not attempt to describe it. But of this I am quite sure:—that, if the Commissioners had allowed the Indians to smoke first, they would have profited greatly by the example; or been scared out of it in despair;—and thus, perhaps, the object of their mission to Green Bay, would have been circumvented; in which case, no great loss to the world. For nothing could be done, without smoking the pipe. And by this solemnity the Council was organized and opened—with this addition, however: that the chiefs exceeding the Court in politeness and in the manifestation of good feeling, each in turn, and all in train, rose and gave the right hand to each of the Commissioners, in succession. Indeed the members of the Court, who had never before had to do in such matters, nor witnessed such a scene, were evidently ill at home, and had well nigh lost their self-possession.
The scene of the organization was indeed highly picturesque. I dare to say, that such another congregation of human beings was scarcely ever assembled, as the commonalty of the Indians, and the various degrees of mixed blood, that crowded around, as spectators. There was every shade and feature of French and Indian, under the same skin; and every incongruous combination of dress upon them, from the first corruption of European fashion, down to the purest Indian. And there was the naked savage; (all naked, except two small aprons of twelve inches square, one before and one behind) some covered only with a blanket, thrown over the shoulders, or else carelessly tucked around the waist, leaving the upper part of the body and the arms exposed; many of them looking, as if they had neither been washed, nor combed, since they were born; not a few bedaubed in paints of all colours, from the most glaring red, down to shades, as black as Erebus; and their eyes sparkling and flashing like the startled snake, from under a countenance so awfully disfigured; the whole being a fair representation of the worst pictures, that imagination has drawn, of the Evil One; some with one side of the face red, and the other black; others showing a great variety of colours, most fantastically thrown together; one with one feather in the hair, another with two, or more, and some with twenty, or less; part of them sitting under the pavilion, part standing without, and part lying down in the open plain upon their breasts, with their heads sticking up, like snakes, from the grass; all furnished with pipes, of their own manufacture, varying in length from four feet to four inches, and a tobacco-pouch made of the skin of some animal, in which is also carried an apparatus for striking fire; every one girt with a cincture about his loins, to which was suspended a knife in its scabbard, devoted to all the imaginable purposes of a knife;—that is—to cut his tobacco, to whittle a stick, to dress his game, to eat with, to scalp his enemy, &c. &c. In the hand of each Indian is always to be seen, besides his pipe, a bow and arrow, or tomahawk, or rifle, or weapon of some description;—more generally his tomahawk is his pipe, the head serving as the bowl, and the handle for the stem, it being bored into a tube;—and nameless other appearances did this assemblage exhibit, which language is inadequate to describe:—all waiting to see and hear.
But there was another group, called Indians, sitting by themselves, whose dress, countenance, manners, and every appearance exhibited all the decencies of civilized life. They looked and acted like men, who respected themselves, and would be respected by others. Their presence and entire demeanour would not have lowered the dignity of any parliamentary assembly. These were the New York Indians. I had often seen them at their own villages, in the State of New York;—but I never knew how to respect them before. I never thought it was possible for other human beings to be sunk so far below them, as to raise them by comparison to such a proud pre-eminence. All wore the same natural complexion, and all were evidently of the same stock. But here was a class elevated—distinguished by such marks of superiority, as to make the difference between them and their wild untutored brethren, greater than would appear, by bringing together the highest and the lowest, the very extremes of society, that can be found in all Europe. And during the whole session of the Council, for a period of eight days, the New York Indians rose higher and higher, by their pure and exemplary conduct, in their claims to respect and confidence. Indeed, the extraordinary occurrences and scenes of Green Bay, after we arrived, had been so absorbing, that I seemed to forget the rest of the world, while I was there. They were interesting for their novelty, but sickening and revolting for the unpleasant exhibitions of human nature, with which they were accompanied. It was exactly that state of things, where the virtue of barbarism has been confounded, and the order of civilized society is not yet established. For my own part, I found it a refuge to fall into the society of the chiefs and principal men of the New York Indians. Among them I could be sure of exemption from any thing vulgar, profane, indecent, or intemperate. For moral worth and good manners, they rose and towered above every thing around them, not excepting the white population, during that long and protracted public occasion.
The whole number of chiefs admitted into the Council, to represent the tribes interested, were, I believe, about thirty:—representing the Stockbridges, the Oneidas, and Brothertons, of the State of New York;—and the Menomenies, Winnebagoes, and Chippeways, of the North-West Territory. The Brothertons were interested, as purchasers of land, although they had not yet removed. The Chippeways were also allowed to be interested in some of the discussions pending. And all these tribes speak so many different languages; the Brothertons excepted, who speak only English. Of course all the doings of the Council, and all deliberations were required to be brought, by interpretation, into each of the tongues. For example: when the Commissioners spoke, their addresses and remarks passed directly into the languages of the New York Indians, which are two; but mediately through French into Menomenie and Winnebago. The necessity of employing the French language arose from the want of an interpreter immediately between English and the languages spoken by the Winnebagoes and Menomenies. But there were many half-bloods, as they are called, that could speak French, and one or the other of these languages, with equal fluency; having been brought up in families, where both tongues are in use. When a Menomenie chief spoke—for the Commissioners, it passed through French into English; for the Winnebagoes, through French into their language; and for the New York Indians, through French and English, into theirs respectively; and vice versâ. The Chippeway language would have made the communication more direct, as it is more or less common, in all those regions, and with the different tribes. But in matters deemed important, they did not like to trust to any uncertainty. Interpretation was generally done at the end of every short sentence;—and after the utterance of every simple thought;—a slow and tedious process. And by the time a thought had passed, mediately, into a third, and sometimes into a fourth language, it may easily be imagined, that without the most scrupulous and accurate interpretation, it was likely to have undergone some little transformations.
To a spectator and stranger to Indian Councils, the most interesting part was the extemporaneous speeches of the chiefs; which were delivered longer, or shorter, by more or less, on every day of the public deliberations. The principal speakers were four of the Menomenie chiefs; two of the Winnebagoes; and two, and sometimes a third and fourth, of the New York Indians.
The elocution of the New York Indians was unadorned in style, and mild in manner. Resting principally upon their written communications, they had not much to say. Their education and long intercourse with the whites had entirely disrobed them of the native wildness of Indian eloquence. John Metoxen, however, an aged and venerable chief, of the Stockbridges—(than whom a man of more exalted worth cannot be found on earth)—on the last day of the Council, as all attempts at reconciliation and adjustment of differences had failed, addressed himself sentimentally to his brethren of the Menomenies and Winnebagoes; and also to the Commissioners, in a strain most sublime and touching; and with a respect and delicacy, towards the feelings of all concerned, unrivalled. Metoxen is about sixty years old, and head chief of his tribe. By his language and manner he first brought us into the presence of God, so that we felt ourselves to be there. Even the wild Indians are a most religious people, and a pattern of piety to many, who are called Christians. That is: they always acknowledge a superintending Providence. They never begin, nor end a speech, without a reference to the Great Spirit. But John Metoxen is a Christian;—and he has enlightened and practical views of the Christian’s God;—and on the occasion now under consideration he made us feel his superiority, not only as a Christian, but as a man. He appealed to the solemn engagements of the New York Indians on one hand, and of the Menomenies and Winnebagoes on the other, as the original contracting parties, now at variance; he called on the Commissioners to witness the repeated and solemn pledges of Government, to secure the fulfilment of these engagements; he depicted the anxious progress and unfortunate result of the present Council; with inimitable delicacy and becoming manliness he freely confessed his diffidence in the present measures of Government, relating to this affair; he solemnly declared, that his only confidence now rested in the God of nations, who had propounded himself the guardian of the oppressed, and the avenger of their wrongs;—and whatever might become of himself, of his family, or of his people, he felt, that it was now his last and only prerogative, to surrender their cause into the hands of their God. “God is witness,” said he, lifting up his eyes to heaven. “Brothers, I have no more to say.”14
It is due, that I should say something of the speeches of the wild Menomenies and Winnebagoes. No conception of romance, in my own mind, had ever reached the wildness and extravagance of their thoughts, or of their manner of expressing them. And besides this, they are not wanting in shrewdness, and what perhaps, in more dignified bodies, would be called parliamentary device. For instance: it had happened, that the Commissioners, in their summonses sent to these tribes, had not served upon them a copy of their letter of instructions from the President, as they had done to the New York tribes;—judging, not unwisely, that the Winnebagoes and Menomenies would have little occasion for the litera scripta. But before they would consent to proceed in the business of the Council, they demanded to be made equal to the New York Indians in this particular; and as there seemed to be so much propriety and argument in the requisition, the Court rubbed their faces in confusion, promised them a copy, and adjourned.
The next day, the Winnebagoes and Menomenies still refused to go on for want of an interpreter. It had happened, the day previous, that the Commissioners had promised to provide for these tribes, in this particular, and to submit to their own nomination, notwithstanding that they had brought along the public interpreter from Detroit. But the young man, a half-blood, named by these Indians, to discharge this office, thinking himself equal to a Member of Congress, demanded eight dollars (1l. 12s.) per day. Whereupon the Commissioners demurred, and sent the Indians word, that they might get their own interpreter, if they did not like the one employed by the Commissioners. The Indians, however, thought better; and concluded to hold the Commissioners to their engagement. Council being assembled, the new interpreter was not at his post. “What is the matter?”—said the Court. One of the chiefs rose and said: “Our Fathers told us yesterday, they would provide us an interpreter; and our Fathers are true men”—and then sat down. The crowd of barbarians roared out their applause, in the most wild and tumultuous manner; the whites joined with them—and the Commissioners, confounded, ordered an adjournment again; and having grown wiser by this schooling, engaged the interpreter, as was understood, on his own terms.
The wild Indians are not bad in managing the few facts, which they have in their possession; and they are certainly possessed of unrivalled skill in magnifying trifles and dignifying nothings. They will deliver themselves of the following sentence, (which by the by is only one word:)—“Yerensotavakarangetakowa”—in a manner to astound all one’s senses, and raise the highest expectation. And lo! when it comes to be interpreted, it reads:—“the greatest fiddle possible”—alias, a church organ, which he had seen in the white man’s council-house; and which he wished to describe to his own people. The Menomenie and Winnebago chiefs uniformly commenced their addresses, or speeches, and almost every sentence—(after waiting for the interpreter to perform his office)—with a strong, monosyllabic exclamation, involving very emphatically the guttural and aspirate elements, and signifying:—“Attention—hear—I am about to speak.” It would be mockery for any but an Indian to attempt to exemplify it. The chiefs would always address themselves directly to the Commissioners, and with the greatest possible vehemence, as if they understood; and when they had finished a sentence, they would wait for the interpreter. I do not remember to have heard a single sentence from a Winnebago, or Menomenie chief, in Council, whether the subject were important, or trifling, or in whatever degree it might have either of these characters, when it was not superlatively marked with a loud and vehement elocution, and an impassioned and violent manner; as if the fate of the world, or of the universe, were pending on the question, or the thought. If the sentiment uttered met with the approbation of their people, a deep and loud guttural, or ventral grunt, and sometimes a boisterous uproar, would express their applause. This single, ventral expression of approbation, if it might be called so, was apt to be heard, at the end of every sentence, when they were gratified. And I question, whether any orators of a civilized people, ancient or modern, were ever better supported by the generous applause and loud acclamations of their auditors. It was impossible not to observe the increased animation of the speakers, from this cause; as also the quick sympathy, between themselves and their people. If the thought, when interpreted, seemed trifling to us, it was not always so to them. Indians, like children, are often amused with trifles; and not unfrequently exhaust their gravest meditations on trifles: like children they can be pleased, and even delighted with a toy. But sometimes they stand up, and show themselves like men; and men of the highest order. They are not great by education, but on the instant, for the particular occasion. “There is a spirit in man, and God hath given him understanding.” Nature is in the Indians;—and when a high demand, an imperative call challenges its proof, it comes like the lightning, and astounds like the thunder; whether it be in the council-house, or from the battle ambush. And now and then, during the deliberations of this Council, we had these proofs of Indian sagacity and power, not to be despised. For a sentimental appeal, a delicate allusion, or a sublime flight, when occasion puts him to it, the Indian is unrivalled; and for the keenness of wit, and the severity of sarcasm, he is not wanting. For the generosity of his nature, it is without bounds. I have already spoken of some of these characteristics.
Of power over sentiment, I would quote the following: It was intimated to the Indians, by the Commissioners, towards the close of the deliberations, that the usual presents from Government, at the breaking up of such occasions, would be withheld, because they had refused to come to an adjustment of differences. One of the Menomenie chiefs saw at a glance the desolateness of their prospects, and rose instantly from his seat, and made the following speech: “Fathers,” said he, “when you sent to call us to this Council, we were building canoes to gather the wild rice, that our families might have bread to eat in the winter. But, as soon as we heard your voice, we left our canoes unfinished, and came directly to this place. Fathers—the rice harvest is now come, our canoes are not built—and we shall have no bread for our families.” And when it is understood, that the first wind that blows, after the wild rice is ready for harvest, will waste it all, the force of this appeal can better be appreciated. It was, in the circumstances and manner, altogether overpowering, and moved the Commissioners to grant the usual presents.
Indian speeches, in public council, always abound in religious sentiments, or in a grateful recognition of Divine Providence; and in friendly congratulations. This sort of religion may be accounted for, perhaps, from their own child-like improvidence, and their more immediate dependence on the providence of God. Their other affections are also so child-like, that friendship and kindness are dear to them, as they are to children. I may say in one word: that the speeches of the Indian chiefs, on these occasions, demonstrated almost every attribute of greatness and littleness—much to admire and much to laugh at.
It might perhaps be expected, that I should give more of the political character of this Council, and make the Court itself as conspicuous, as the place they occupied; that I should report their progress in order, and develope their transactions in detail, from beginning to end. But the execution of the entire of such a plan, I am disposed to think, would not be very edifying. I have wished all along to keep, as near as possible, to that course, which might throw the most light on these two questions:—What are the American Indians? And what is to become of them? And this is the course I still mean to pursue, under my best endeavours, to the end. There are circumstances and features of this Council, yet untouched, that are worthy of notice for such an object.
It is proper to observe, that all the affairs of the Indians, in their connexion and intercourse and official transactions with the Government of the United States, are in charge of the War Department. With what propriety and for what reasons, I am unable to say. Neither can I say confidently, that there is any impropriety, except that the name wears somewhat of a belligerent character, and would not naturally lead one to expect so much kindness from such a quarter, as the Indians have an undoubted right to claim. We may hope, indeed, that this is not the reason, that such a perpetual war has been waged upon Indian rights, and threatens still to be carried on. I am quite sure, that this business was not originally committed to that department of government for such an object; and if we are to look to the temperament of the War Department, for the secret of these troubles, the sooner a motion is made and carried, that this charge be transferred to another office, or that a new department be created for this specific object, the better.
It is in truth to the War Department of the United States, to which we must look for all the immediate Government movements and transactions in relation to the Indians. There every plan in the treatment of Indians is conceived and organized;—and thence issue all the authorities to hold agencies and commissions among them, for whatever purpose, of an official nature. The destiny of whole tribes is settled there, and often by a single mind, without consultation. There were conceived, and as we have reason to believe, at the discretion of one individual, the instructions of the Commissioners to Green Bay, for 1830; which, if they had been permitted to go into effect, would have annihilated all the rights of the Indians concerned, at a single blow. When I say this, I of course speak of the principles, on which the instructions were based. And it was no doubt the confident expectation of the War Department, that the Commissioners, on the present occasion, would execute these instructions in full, and bring the plan to immediate consummation.
But unforeseen obstacles interposed; the effect of which, however, was only to suspend the result. The New York Indians had caused to be prepared a vindication of their rights, on the basis of the covenants between themselves and the North-West tribes; and of the understanding between themselves and the General Government;—the whole of which, it was the design of the instructions from the War Department to set aside. In the considerations, specified in the instructions, as a basis and guide of the contemplated arrangement, there was no reference whatever to these covenants. It is possible, and not improbable, that the Commissioners had caused the New York tribes to be served with a copy of these instructions, for the very purpose of notifying them of the course of procedure to be adopted. They improved the advice, however, in a different way from that, which we have here supposed was intended:—they employed the mean time, in the preparation of an argument to establish their rights, and to show before this Court, before Congress, if needs be, and before the world, why they could not legally, and why they ought not to be disturbed. It was a document of the greatest interest, as being done by Indians, allowing for the little assistance they received. Themselves furnished the materials, collected the facts;—the final copy of the document was made by their own hand;—it was read before the Commissioners by one of their own number;—and laid upon their table, as the only basis, on which they could act;—and it is now on file in the public office, at Washington, not only as an unanswerable demonstration of the rights, which it vindicates, in this particular instance;—but as a proof equally unanswerable, that an Indian may be a statesman, not to suffer by a comparison with any other. The New York Indians had among them, on the present occasion, a plural number of men, of a liberal education. Having right on their side, they were more than equal to the Court. They were dignified in all their deportment; and when called upon, they entered their solemn protest against the course of procedure, of which they had been notified, as determined on; laid the defence of their rights upon the table; and pointed to the Bond.
What could the Commissioners do? Could they refuse to hear? and having heard, could they decently throw out the document?—and retaining it, could they act upon it? The ground of discussion, which it opened, was entirely beyond the scope of their instructions. Yet the course pursued by the New York Indians seemed reasonable—all the world would deem it reasonable. The moment this document was heard by the Commissioners, their good sense taught them at once, that the object of their mission to Green Bay was entirely defeated, under the limitations of their instructions. They could do nothing definitively, under that instrument, without disgracing themselves, and disgracing the Government. The course pointed out, was a course of violence;—and however the end contemplated, was evidently resolved, and must finally be attained—the Commissioners, suddenly opening their eyes to some rays of the truth and merits of the case, had not come to this duty sufficiently conscience-hardened, to jump at once to the conclusion, in defiance of these covenants. The ground taken by the New York Indians, and the noble and intrepid vindication of their rights, was unexpected. It had not been anticipated at the War Department;—nor by the prime movers of the mischief on the premises;—it was not dreamt of any where. It was taken for granted, that they would yield to the menace held over their heads, and take what was offered, rather than risk all.
But the Commissioners being there, they might as well do something. Notwithstanding the aspects of the case were entirely changed, by the declaration and vindication of the rights of the New York Indians, and an insuperable bar thrown in the way of their errand;—yet they might as well hear what the Indians had to say on both sides; they might collect information, and report thereon to the authority, under which they acted. They might also, perhaps, in existing circumstances, safely hazard the use of some discretion. And so, it seems, they did;—although within very prudent limits. They ventured to specify and recommend terms of compromise, between the parties in controversy; and not succeeding in this, they drew up a plan of settling the disputes, which they proposed to recommend to Government.
But it was impossible for such men to settle this matter. It was impossible, because they had come with wrong views of the case, and on the general subject—themselves pledged to a policy ruinous to Indian rights; impossible, because they had no authority to do it, on proper grounds; impossible, because of the conflicting testimony they were obliged to receive on the spot; and impossible, because they could not agree among themselves.
The Council was held eight days successively—Sunday excepted—without result, except, that it furnished an admirable occasion for the developement of Indian character and Indian wrongs.
By John Metoxen, head Chief of the Stockbridge Tribe, on the occasion of laying on the table of the Commissioners, the Document, which contained at large the declaration and vindication of their rights.
“Brothers: hear what I have to say. Thanks to the great Spirit, who has brought your faces to our faces in health and peace. We shake hands with our great father, the President, in our hearts. We are glad to take you, his children and our brothers, by the hand. May the chain of friendship, which has so long bound us together, still bind us, while the sun comes up in the Great Lake, and goes down in our forest.
“Brothers, you know we have always been friends of our great father, the President, who has promised to keep off our enemies, if we will help him keep off his enemies. We lived under his shadow first in the east country, (Massachusetts) next with our brothers in the State of New York; and because our great father said, it would be better for us to come out here, we obeyed his voice, and came. Our great father said, he would not let the white man trouble us any more. He wished us to come here, and buy land of our brothers, the Menomenies and Winnebagoes, and settle down among them, and make them learn the good ways of the white man—how to raise corn, and build houses, and make their own blankets, and other good things. Our father said, we should keep the peace between him and the wild people of the North-West—that he would give us and our children this land for ever—that he would never let his white children come among us to sell our people strong water, and cheat them, and get away their land—that the great lakes should be a wall between us and them—that he would send good men to come and see us, and ask what we want—that he would send us ploughs and all things good to raise corn—that he would send our women things to make cloth—that if any of the tribes should rise up against us, or quarrel among themselves, our father would reach out his long arm, and speak with his mouth, and tell them to be still—and that here, under his shadow, we should all live in peace, and grow up together, and become a great nation, like the white men,—and build good houses, and at last have one great father of our own, who should be in peace with our great father, the President.
“Brothers, as we knew our great father was a true man and honourable, and as we believed he would never break his word, and that he had a strong arm to make it good, we trusted to all he said. We were glad at his words. We let his white children take our lands and our homes in the State of New York, and we took our wives, and our children in our arms, and came across the great lakes to live here on Fox River. We lighted the council-fire, and made peace with our brethren, the Winnebagoes and Menomenies. We gave them money for lands. They said, they were glad to see us, and to have us come and live among them—and that we would all be one people. They promised to leave hunting and fishing, and raise corn like us, and that their women should spin like our women—and that we would become as good and as great as white men. We were all agreed—and we were all very glad.
“Brothers, we did not think our great father, President Monroe, would die so soon—or that another would come in his place to forget what he had promised. We did not think, that our great father had so many papers in his table-drawer, that he could not find the one, on which his agreement with us was written.
“You see, brothers, the white man is here—he has brought strong water to sell to our people, to the Menomenies, to the Winnebagoes, and to the Chippeways, to get them drunk, and make them quarrel. The Indian is good for nothing, when he can get strong water. It makes him mad. He will not work—he will whip his wife, and his child,—and perhaps kill one, to be sorry for it the next day, when he cannot help it. Strong water makes him quarrel with his neighbour, and they kill one another. There is no peace, when the Indian can get strong water—but all things go badly. Our great father the President, said—that the white man should never come here, and sell our people strong water.
“Brothers, you see the white people have come here to live—a great many. And they tell us, that they will stay—and that more will come—and that they will have our lands—and that we must go beyond the Mississippi. All this makes us very sorry.
“We lived in peace with the Winnebagoes and Menomenies, and with all the tribes of the North-West. Our council-fire burnt well, and did not go out. But, while we sat in peace around it, and smoked the pipe of friendship with our brethren—the white man came in, and threw a big stone against the fire, and scattered the brands among our feet, and knocked them upon our blankets—and cried out: It is no peace—it is war;—so that we could not stay. We run home, and our hearts were very sorry; and there has been no peace since. The white man will not let us speak peace to our brethren. He tells our brethren, that we are their enemies—that we came here only to get away their country—and to drive them off; and that if they will get back the lands, which they sold to us, they can sell them again to the whites, and get pay for them a second time; and that the whites will give a great deal more money, than we gave. Three years ago (1827) they received a great bag of money from the city of Washington to buy these very lands on Fox River, which they once sold to us. We do not know for what good reason this money was given them. We are afraid.
“Brothers, I need not say much. We have put in writing what we think. It has just been read to you, and is now in your hand. We wish you to think on what is written in that paper. We wish you to carry that paper to our great father, the President—and shake hands with him for us, and ask him to read and think of it. We wish it to be read before the chiefs of the great nation, who stand around the fire of the great council-house, at the city of Washington—that they may think of it.
“Brothers, there is no longer peace between us and our brethren here. We cannot speak with them. They do not come and see us—and we cannot go and see them. The white man stands between us and keeps us apart. We say one thing, and they say another thing. We no longer smoke the pipe together. We desire you to ask our great father to take away his white children, and when they are gone, we shall do well enough.
“We need not tell you, brothers, to shut your ears against the words of the white men, who have come up here, and who want our lands. We have been made very sorry to hear what they say.
“Brothers, we look to you—we look to our great father, the President—we look to the chiefs of the great nation: we ask only for the performance of their agreement. While you have that paper, you know our mind. We shall wait with great desire to know the answer of our great father and of the chiefs at Washington.
“I have no more to say.”
It is proper perhaps to say, that the paper referred to in this speech, is the document noticed in the last chapter, as having had such an important influence on the doings of the Commissioners, arresting the current in which they were directed by their instructions, and defeating the object which those instructions contemplated. The New York Indians relied entirely upon this, as principal; and upon other minor written communications, which were afterwards sent to the Court, as occasion demanded—in consequence of which the speeches of their chiefs were few, and generally short—delivered for the purpose of explanation, or in answer to inquiries.