Paradise Sky

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Paradise Sky

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.
It happened, that the author, in his school-boy days, fell into the
same district with these Anglo-Indian lads, Eleazer Williams and his
brother John. On the first few days of their appearance in the
school-room, they were as much the objects of curiosity with the
other children, as they and their father were with the congregation
at church. From the wildness of their nature and habits, it was
necessary for the master to humour their eccentricities, until they
might gradually accommodate themselves to discipline; and but for
the benevolent object in view, and the good anticipated, it was no
small sacrifice to endure the disorder, which their manners at first
created. Unused to restraint, and amazed at the orderly scene
around them, they would suddenly jump up, and cry, Umph! or
some other characteristic and guttural exclamation, and then
perhaps spring across the room, and make a true Indian assault
upon a child, on whom they had fixed their eyes, to his no small
affright and consternation;—or else dart out of the house, and take
to their heels in such a direction, as their whims might incline them.
Confinement they could ill endure at first; and so long as they did
nothing but create disorder, (and that they did very effectually) they
were indulged—until by degrees, they became used to discipline,
and began to learn. Their first attempts by imitation to enunciate the
names of the letters of the Roman alphabet, were quite amusing—so
difficult was it for them to form their tongue and other organs to the
proper shapes. If the children of the school laughed, (as there was
some apology for doing) these boys would sometimes cast a
contemptuous roll of the eye over the little assembly, and then
leaving an “Umph!” behind them, would dart out of the house, in
resentment;—all which was patiently endured by the master. For he
was particularly instructed not to use compulsion. They ultimately
became attentive and good boys, both in school and in the family,
where they were cherished;—the eldest, however, always
manifesting more tractableness and docility of the two. They
gradually dropped their Indian dress and manners, and adopted
those of their new society. The eldest, as he grew up, became a
universal favourite, was extensively introduced into the best society
of New England;—was cherished by every body, as a most promising
youth;—and all began to predict that he would ultimately be of great
service to his own nation, and to the Indian tribes. For this purpose,
his love of his own people was carefully cherished by all his patrons,
who were very numerous, and among the best and most influential
men of the country. No pains or expense were spared to enlarge his
mind, cultivate his best feelings, and fit him for a high destiny. And
the gradual and rapid developements of his intellect and moral
virtues, and the improvement of his manners, abundantly satisfied
and rewarded the hopes and pains exhausted upon him. In addition
to all the rest, and as the highest finish of his character, he was
observed to embrace and cherish with great sincerity and
earnestness, the radical and practical principles of Christian piety. He
grew up a gentleman and a Christian.

For a time, during the last war between the United States and Great
Britain, his original and benevolent patrons in New England, were
somewhat disappointed and grieved, in consequence of his having
attached himself, by temptations held out to him, to the staff of the
American army in the north. In consideration of his known abilities
and of his connexion with the Indian tribes in Canada, which were
the auxiliaries and more or less employed in the British army, his
services were deemed important, by the Americans, to counteract
the hostile influence of these tribes on the northern frontier. In the
battle of Plattsburg, himself and his brother John sustained
conspicuous and useful parts—although the engagement did not
amount to much besides skirmishing, in consequence of the decisive
action on Lake Champlain, in the face of Plattsburg, which caused
the sudden retreat of the British forces from before the town into
Canada.

Peace being concluded, and the natural excitements of a campaign

subsiding in his mind, Mr. Williams’s feelings settled down again into
their former condition of repose and benevolent regard for the race,
from which he sprung, and to which he was allied, not only by the
ties of nature, but by a long cherished and ever wakeful regard for
their highest and best interests. He felt, that Providence had called
him to consecrate his energies, his influence, and superior
advantages, to their welfare;—and he fondly indulged the hope, that
he was destined to elevate their condition. It was not long before he
was introduced and commended to Bishop Hobart, of New York, and
received orders in the Christian ministry from under his hand, to be
employed in that capacity among the Indian tribes. He commenced
his labours in 1815, with the Oneidas, at Oneida Castle, near Utica,
in the State of New York.
 CHAPTER XVII.
REV. MR. WILLIAMS AT GREEN BAY; IMPORTANCE OF HIS

RELATIONS THERE, &c.

It happened, that the Rev. Mr. Williams, the subject of the foregoing
Chapter, was at the head of all the movements of the New York
Indians, which induced them to emigrate, and finally planted them in
the North-West Territory. Being himself a chief, and more
accustomed to the world than his brethren, and well qualified for
business, he always took the lead in all the negotiations with the
general Government. Like Moses of old, he was captain of the tribes,
religiously and politically. Like Joshua, he went into the promised
land with his own people, and settled them there; and stationed
himself in the midst of them, still their pastor and leader. He had
succeeded in introducing into the North-West Territory, and settling
on the banks and near the mouth of Fox River, two of the most
cultivated and most important of the New York tribes:—the Oneidas
and Stockbridges—with every prospect, if things had gone on well,
of bringing all the rest after them. Mr. Williams had indulged the
pleasing hope of instituting, under the protection and patronage,
pledged by the Government of the United States, a new and bright
era in the history of American Aborigines. His public character and
private worth had not only given him a well-earned and merited
ascendancy among the Indians; but a high and commanding
influence with the Government. He was widely known, well
esteemed, and universally respected. And his appearance and
manners, from childhood accustomed to the world in all its various
shapes, portly in person, dignified in mien, condescending,
courteous, and affable—and withal developing equally the European
and Indian character, in all the expressions of his countenance, and
in the exhibitions of his temper—showed him at once a man made
for respect and influence.

Soon after Mr. Williams’s removal to Green Bay, he married a

daughter of a Mr. Jordon of that settlement, himself a Frenchman,
and his wife a pure Indian, of the Menomenie tribe in that region. In
this particular, viz. of having an equal share of European blood, Mr.
Williams and his wife were alike. And in all the excellencies, which
adorn the female character, Mrs. Williams was not inferior to her
husband, as a man.

Although myself and Mr. Williams had been a long time separate,
and had not met more than once, and that only for a few moments,
from 1806 to 1830, we yet had all the reasons, characteristic of the
romantic attachments of our earliest years, to cherish the kindest
affections towards each other. We had kept the traces of each
other’s history in the meantime, and each had rejoiced in the other’s
welfare; and it was as great mutual pleasure, as it was unexpected,
to meet once more on such interesting ground; and on an occasion
so interesting, as that, which had brought me to Green Bay, in
August 1830.

The next day after our arrival at Green Bay, I found myself in an
Indian canoe, for the first time in my life, paddled by two wild
Indians, ascending the Fox River, in company with Mr. Williams to his
residence, eight miles above the settlement at the river’s mouth.
This unwonted and novel condition, in such a bark (literally a bark)
and in such society, was associated with many interesting
recollections. And as may be imagined, we talked over and lived
again the scenes of childhood. We talked and lived again the years
we had spent apart. We blessed and adored that Providence, which
had kept and guided us through so many eventful scenes. We
wondered at the concurrence of events, which had thus thrown us
together, and rather dreamt over it as a vision, than realized it as
sober fact.
Our first snug adjustment, however, in the canoe, is worthy of a
passing remark. He who has never stepped foot in this floating
thing, must take good heed, that he do not venture to stand upon
his feet, and that he get himself, as soon as convenient, “squat like a
toad” (alias, like an Indian) in the bottom of the canoe;—else he will
find the light and fickle bark quickly rolling and pitching him head-
foremost into the watery element. Nothing is more deceptive and
treacherous, than an Indian canoe, to him who is unaccustomed to
its whims. It is scarcely possible for such a person to get seated in it
without upsetting. And yet the Indian, who understands its temper,
will so adjust himself and so work his muscular powers, as to
anticipate and feel all its sudden and fitful movements, and defy its
instinctive and mischievous attempts to dislodge him into the deep.
He will stand, or walk, or sit, as suits himself;—or mount with either
foot on either rim;—and compel the vicious and wayward thing to a
quick obedience of his will. It is itself as light as an airy nothing, and
bounds over the tops of the waves, like the skipping steps of a fairy
sprite, darting forward to gratify its own humour. My own awkward
attempts to adjust myself in this whimsical thing, even after all the
benefit of advice, was the occasion of no little merriment to the two
wild Menomenies, who were to be the paddlers, and to others of the
tribe, who witnessed the embarkation. Even Mr. Williams, with all his
politeness, could not keep his gravity, but was forced to join heartily
in the merry peal, which showered upon me from these simple
children of nature. Side by side, however, and at last, Mr. Williams
and myself sat in the bottom of the canoe, on a mat woven from the
stock of wild rice, and began to ascend the Fox River, smooth and
swift, as the Indians dipped their paddles, and awakened the
instinctive life of their airy bark.

One of our paddlers was a man of forty, the other a youth of

eighteen—both painted, with little covering, except a blanket
carelessly pendant from the shoulder, or belted round the waist; and
a feather or two stuck in the hair, on the crown of the head. The
elder had his whiskey bottle, and the younger his rifle lying at his
feet.
“And here we are, Mr. Williams. How strange! What a scene is
this!”—

“Indeed, Sir, and did we dream of it, when we run around the brick
school-house in the street of Long Meadow, and played our boyish
pranks in that never-to-be-forgotten and delightful retreat?”

“And do you remember the dress you wore, when first your father
brought you from Canada—and what infinite sport you and your
brother John made for the children of the school, by the strangeness
of your manners, and your Indian whims, before you had learned to
accommodate yourselves to such a state of discipline?”

“My memory,” said Mr. Williams, tapping his forehead with his finger,
as much like a Frenchman, as an Indian, and winking a smile of
great significance—“my memory records those scenes, as if they
were the recurrence of yesterday; and I remember, too, that we did
not take your ridicule in very good part. And do you not think that
you, little fellows, were rather impolite?—And did we not give you a
rap, or two, for such disrespect?”

“Indeed, you made yourselves quite the terror of the school, for a
little. For nothing, you know, is more frightful in story, to a white
man’s child, than the thought of an Indian. He would run from an
Indian before he were hatched.”

“And what have you heard lately of my good and venerable father
Ely’s family? Blessed be their memory! And what do I not owe them!
Some are in heaven; and where are the rest? And all my old friends
and patrons in New England—I cannot name them, they are so
many?”

“The Elys, all, as you may well believe, who are not saints in heaven,
are on their way.”

“I should be base, indeed—I could never respect myself, to forget

even for a day the family, who took and cherished my childhood;—
and to whom, under God, I owe all that I am more than my brethren
of the St. Regis Tribe, in Lower Canada.”

And much and various talk of early and later days, of trifling and
more important events, occupied the hour or two, while the canoe
was made to stem the current, and bore us along between the wild
and romantic shores of Fox River, towards the humble and solitary
log-cabin of the Rev. Mr. Williams, perched upon the right bank,
ascending; and skirted by what is called an oak-opening, or more
properly, an orchard of oaks, scattered here and there, near enough
for a shady grove, but too distant to make a forest proper. The
beauty of Fox River and of its wooded banks, is hardly to be
exceeded by any thing of the kind. Every thing is soft and
picturesque to the full satisfaction of the soul. The mind, in
contemplating the shifting scene, drinks in pleasure, as if from the
current of the river of life.

A little incident in this excursion is perhaps worthy of notice. As the

canoe was gliding smoothly along near the shore, a sudden agitation
of the bark summoned my attention to the young man forward, who
had dropped his paddle, and grasped and fired his rifle at an object
in the high grass, under the bank, but invisible to any eye, but that
of an Indian;—and all so quick, that one could hardly say, it had
occupied time. The rifle was discharged, before I could even look
up; and the Indian’s fiery glance, and cry of—“Umph!” followed a
deer, as he leaped up the bank, and bounded into the wood. The
rifle, as I have called it by mistake, was a shot-gun;—and having
been loaded only for water-fowl, could effect no more, than to
pepper the poor animal, and make him feel uncomfortable; and
perhaps extinguish the light of an eye. The young man seemed
greatly vexed to have lost his game.

After being made acquainted with Mrs. Williams, who set us

refreshments, a walk was proposed and taken, along the elevated
brow of a sort of amphitheatre, overlooking the river, and enclosing
a spacious and rich plain, a little above the highest floods. It was
indeed a beautiful and commanding eminence—itself the margin of
another plain, stretching backwards, under the sombre and
apparently boundless orchard of oaks.

“Here,” said Mr. Williams, “on this spot and along this line, I had
fondly indulged the dream, would one day, not far distant, be
founded and erected a literary and scientific seminary, for the
education of Indian youth. Next to the removal and establishment of
our eastern tribes, in these delightful abodes of the North-West, and
along Fox River, and such a confirmation of our privileges, as to
afford a security for future exemption from the incursions of the
white man, I had conceived and fondly cherished the project of this
institution. This wide and beautiful country was to be our
inheritance,—in common with the tribes, of whom we purchased,
and with whom we had entered into firm and friendly alliances,
under the guidance and auspices of the President and Government
of the United States. For the first time in the history of our public
injuries, and of the successive ejectments of our tribes from the east
to the west, in the progress of two centuries, and of the gradual
wasting away of whole nations, as well as the constant diminution of
these small remnants, which still retain a name and existence—a
fixed and permanent position was here pledged to us, and seemed
to be gained, without fear of disturbance. Here opened to our
imagination and to our hope—and I might add to our sober
judgment—a theatre for the regeneration of our race. Here, as you
see, we were naturally divided by the great waters from the States,
and from all danger of collision with the whites; at the same time,
that the American Government had promised to spread over us the
wings of its protection, to secure us from those fatal dissensions
among ourselves, which had formerly characterised our history, and
to extend unto us its parental and fostering care. It had promised all
convenient aid to secure the civilization of the wilder tribes, to
amalgamate our feelings and our interests, and make us one; and
ultimately to raise us to a dignity and importance, which might
claim, either an independent and equal place in the Federal Union,
or a separate Government in friendly alliance with the nation, which
had first depressed us, but afterwards atoned their fault by restoring
our rights, and making us better than they found us. And you see,
there is no dreaming in all this. It was natural, it was suitable, it was
feasible. There was no obstacle in the way, but the want of faith in
existing and solemn covenants. Where is the nation on earth, whose
remote ancestors, at some former period, have not been even lower,
than we now are? There is nothing wanting, but peace and public
faith, the means of intellectual and moral culture, and the arts of
civilization, brought perpetually to bear on any people, however
degraded, to elevate them to the highest imaginable condition.

“Here, on this spot, I had designed to found an Institution, which

might ultimately grow into importance, and become the great centre
of education for the Aboriginal Tribes of North America. All this land
which you see, and more, comprehending some thousands of acres,
was mine, ceded by the tribes, as the reward of my services, and
vesting in my wife, in consideration of claims through her father’s
family. I had expended the last penny of my earthly substance, and
involved myself in debt, by the personal sacrifices, indispensably
incurred, in accomplishing the great object of our removal and
settlement in this territory. And it was deemed fair, not only for the
claims of my wife, but for my own, that I should receive this
indemnification. And by the increasing value of these lands, as the
state of society among our tribes should advance, I had hoped, not
only to provide for my family; but still to be able to make other and
continued sacrifices, for the good of the race, to which I belong;—
and more especially to push the project of this my favourite
institution.

“I am a Canadian by birth, you know;—and by the same right, if I

choose to assert it, a subject of the British Empire. Although I am
sorry to say, that the British Government of the Canadas is even
behind that of the United States, in the proper, or at least, in the
formal acknowledgment of Indian rights. They have never
acknowledged their original territorial rights, nor their separate
rights, as a distinct community; and of course have had no
controversy, in these particulars;—as the growth and extension of
population in the Canadas have never yet brought the parties into
serious collision. But in two things the British are far more noble:—
First, They never look with contempt, nor even with disrespect, on
the colour of a man’s skin, merely because it is of a deeper shade
than their own. This is almost the peculiar vice of the Americans;
and I need not say, that it is unbecoming. Nay—I am almost
provoked to add, what perhaps ill becomes me—that it is
contemptible. And next,—The door is completely open in the
Canadas for the incorporation of the Indians in all the rights and
immunities of citizenship;—whereas in the States they are proscribed
by law—at least by custom, which amounts to the same thing. In the
Canadas an Indian may rise to any office, and to any civil dignity,
according to his merit and his influence. And in the records of their
parliaments may be found at least the name of one Indian, admitted
to their deliberations, and to the supreme rights of legislation.

“But I was going to say that, as we are here upon the borders of the
Canadas, and as these provinces comprehend many and important
Indian tribes, within their jurisdiction, and myself being a Canadian
by birth, I had not confined my views of Indian amelioration and
cultivation to those tribes alone, that are to be found within the
circle and in the territories of the States; but I have all along had my
eye upon the Canadian tribes. I love my father’s house, and my
father’s nation; and I know the generosity of the British public—to
whom I have meditated a future appeal, in behalf of the interests of
this seminary, and of the tribes falling under the jurisdiction of their
Colonial Government, in North America. I have had reasons to be
persuaded, that they never would refuse their patronage;—that their
sympathies of benevolence would kindle into a holy fervour, under
the prospects of such a hopeful field of generous enterprise. And
what, with the patronage of the Government and people of the
United States, and what, with the favour of the people of Great
Britain, I have not doubted—on condition of the maintenance of
good faith, in regard to the pledges we had received, and which
induced us to leave our homes in New York, and come to this region
—I could not doubt, that my project was rational, and that my hopes
were likely to be realized.

“But—what of all those bright and cheering hopes now remains? It is

already decided, as you know, or will have occasion to know, in the
progress of the labours of this Commission from Washington, who
landed here yesterday, in company with you—that this territory is
now a candidate for admission to the rank and privileges of one of
the Federal States. Public offices of Government have already been
planted at the mouth of the river, in the settlement of Green Bay,
which we left this morning, filled by men, who are anticipating the
opportunity of wielding the destinies of this future commonwealth.
Citizens from the States are flocking in, occupying the posts of trade,
speculating in the purchase of lands, and selling whiskey to the wild
Indians, who fill this region;—and thus corrupting their morals and
manners, and fast plunging them into deeper degradation, and to
final ruin. Did you not see those naked and drunken Winnebagoes,
who left the door of my cabin a few minutes ago, brandishing their
knives in a quarrel, actually bleeding under the infliction of violence
on each other, and obliged to roll one of their number, dead drunk,
into the canoe, before they could proceed up the river? In the
bottom of that canoe you saw also a keg of whiskey, the occasion of
this mischief; and it is that cause which is destined to be the ruin of
these tribes. Those Indians came all the way from thirty miles up
this river, to the white settlement below, merely to purchase that
whiskey;—for which, you may be assured, they have paid dearly
enough. For the shopkeepers here do not trade with the Indians, but
for an enormous, an exorbitant profit.

“This very land along the banks, and on either side of this river,
comprehending the Falls, a few miles above, and which make an
infinite power for machinery, down to the mouth of the river, and far
around on both sides of the head of the bay;—comprehending, in
short, the key of the territory;—and which we ourselves had
purchased of the native tribes in 1821-22—was formally purchased
again of the same tribes, in 1827, by a commission from the General
Government, in contempt of our title. We are aware, that it is
pretended not to be in contempt of us—that it was not intended to
disregard, or disturb our contract—but only to purchase the claim,
which those tribes still held over this territory, in relation to the
United States; But we cannot understand this. As our contract was
made under the supervision of the President of the United States,
and received the official sanction of his own hand and seal;—and as
the contract conveyed to us entire, and without reserve, for ever, all
the right and title of those tribes in the premises;—we cannot
comprehend, either the reason, or propriety, that the Government
should negotiate with them for the land, and not with us;—unless
the reason be simply this:—that they knew we would not sell, and
that it is resolved to impeach and disturb our claim. And although
there has been no official announcement of such intention, yet have
we long time heard, and are constantly hearing from private and
irresponsible sources, and sources which are not far from being
intimate with the public authorities—that our purchases are invalid.
Indeed, it is on this ground alone, that all the noise and controversy
have arisen. So long as our title were allowed to be good, there
could be no controversy. It is on this ground, that the native tribes
have been made dissatisfied, and alienated from us;—and on this
ground, that the present Commission has been sent up to force us to
a compromise, and reduce us to limits, which will entirely defeat all
our objects in removing to this territory. It is on this presumption,
that you see the public offices, and the active and flourishing white
settlement at the mouth of the river—none of which have a right to
be there, on the basis of the faith, which has been solemnly pledged
to us. We are invaded—we are soon to be surrounded—and there is
no hope for us. We have no longer any influence over the native
tribes. They have been turned against us; and they know not that
they have been turned against themselves. The white citizens, at the
mouth of the river, are our enemies. They are employing every
possible endeavour to throw us into the narrowest limits, and finally
to root us out.
“And besides all this, there are white men here, who enjoy the credit
of hunting up and purchasing the pretended land claims of the old
French settlers, for trifling considerations; and rendering them
certain and valuable, by forcing them through the District Court of
the United States, established here, in a manner and by means,
which make us unhappy. And the very ground on which you now
stand, is liable to be invaded for my ejectment, by such a process. It
was dear to me once, but I cannot now hold it to the value of a
song.

“And is there any hope, think you? The lamp of hope has long since
expired. We can never move again. We have no courage. Our tribes
have no courage. For where is the faith, on which we can rely?

“You shall see the state of things in the developements of the

sittings of this Commission.”
 CHAPTER XVIII.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE STOCKBRIDGE SETTLEMENT ON FOX RIVER.

From Mr. Williams’s, and in his company, I proceeded the next day
up Fox River, about ten miles farther, to the settlement occupied by
the Stockbridge tribe, last from the State of New York;—but
originally from Stockbridge, Massachusetts, from which place they
take their name. This, of course, will be seen to be the second
removal they have made, to be freed from the white men.

Having, for some reasons, found their situation uncomfortable in

Massachusetts, or being otherwise tempted, the Stockbridge tribe
had, at an early period, sold their original possessions, and removed
to the west, into a region, which is now the heart of the State of
New York;—but which, at that time, afforded them the same hopes
of a retired seclusion, as those which they indulged, when, less than
ten years ago, they came to Green Bay. The place of their first
retreat, was in the neighbourhood of other tribes, where they hoped
to enjoy, in perpetuity and without disturbance, their own rights and
their peculiar ways of living. But after a generation or two, they
found themselves again surrounded and invaded by the whites; and
as before narrated, and for similar reasons, they removed again to
the banks of the Fox River, in the North-West Territory.

As the most convenient way of developing the present condition and

character of this tribe, I will here introduce a passage from my
memoranda;—observing, that the term Kawkawlin, the name of the
place, from which the date was made, means Falls, or rapids; and
that the French epithet attached to it, which needs no explanation, is
employed to express the comparative importance of these Falls, over
another smaller rapid a few miles below;—both of which, by the
application of special forces, may be ascended with the bateaux,
used in navigating these waters.

Grande Kawkawlin, Aug. 16, 1830.

I am now writing from the Mission-house of the American Board, on

Fox River, twenty miles from its mouth, planted among the
Stockbridge Indians—who have been encouraged to settle
themselves here by the General Government, after having been
disappointed of their claims on White River, Indiana. They number
about 350 souls, and have probably made greater attainments in the
English language and manners, and in the useful arts of civilized life,
and also in the Christian religion, than any other tribe of the
Aborigines on the continent;—except only, that the Brotherton
Indians have so long used English, as to have lost their mother
tongue. The probable reason, that the Brothertons have dropped the
language of their tribe, is, that nearly all of them are highly charged
with English blood. But in the moral state of society, and in general
improvement, the Brothertons are far behind the Stockbridges. The
Brothertons have not enjoyed the same uninterrupted succession of
teachers of the Christian religion.

The Stockbridge Indians have heard the preaching of Brainard and

Edwards; and have enjoyed Christian privileges and cultivation, with
little interruption, for nearly ninety years. I saw a Bible yesterday,
safely kept in a sort of ark, at their place of worship, (a remarkable
relic of Hebrew custom), printed at Oxford, England, in 1717, of the
largest and finest type I have ever seen; except one shown to me
two years ago in the English Church at Montreal, the last of which
was said to be the largest and fairest type of a Bible ever done in
English. From the resemblance of the two, I have reason to believe,
they are both of the same impression. The Bible here is in two
volumes, the largest folio, two feet by eighteen inches, both
together weighing I should judge forty to fifty pounds, with a superb
frontispiece, and numerous plates, equally elegant and splendid. On
the external of each volume is imprinted in large gilt capitals, with
the ancient mode of punctuation, the following inscription:—

THE. GIFT. OF.

THE. REV. DR. FRANCIS. AYSCOUTH.

TO. THE.

INDIAN. CONGREGATION. AT. HOUSATONNAC.

IN. NEW. ENGLAND.

MDCCXLV.

On the first blank page is the following certificate, I suppose in the

hand-writing of the person whose name is subscribed:—

“This, with another volume, containing the Holy Bible, is the pious
gift of the Rev. Dr. Francis Ayscouth (Clerk of the Closet to His Royal
Highness, Frederick, Prince of Wales) to the use of the congregation
of Indians, at or near Housatonnac, in the vast wilderness of New
England, who are at present under the voluntary care and
instruction of the learned and religious Mr. John Sergeant, and is to
remain to the use of the successors of those Indians, from
generation to generation, as a testimony of the said Doctor’s great
regard for the salvation of their souls. And is over and above other
benefits, which he most cheerfully obtained for the encouragement
of the said Mr. Sergeant, and in favour of the said Indians, at the
request of their hearty friend and well-wisher,

“Thomas Coran.”
“London, the 31st of Dec. 1795.”

I have conjectured, that the last date should be 1745, in order to

correspond with the inscription on the outside. But perhaps the
solution may otherwise be obtained. I have not felt at liberty to
restore the correspondence, as the characters, though in
manuscript, are quite distinct and legible.

—“And is to remain to the use of those Indians from generation to

generation, &c.” And here it is, as bright and as perfect, as when
first it came from the hands of the pious donor;—and that not to
prove, that it has not been used—for it has been constantly used in
public worship. But it has been carefully used, and carefully kept in
the ark of the covenant! It came from Old England to the
“Housatonnec, in the vast wilderness of New England.” It was
transported with the tribe to the State of New York;—and for aught I
know, with all the sacerdotal solemnities of their Hebrew fathers, in
ancient days. And it was again transported by the same religious
care to this vast wilderness, of the North-West. And here it is, a
perpetual monument of their fear of God, and of their love of his
word and ordinances. Their reverence for this volume and for the
ark, which contains it, is almost superstitious. Nay, I had almost said
—it is idolatrous. But that would be unjust. While the white
Christians (Christians?? of Europe have fallen into the most
egregious and stupid idolatry, these descendants of the ancient
Hebrews, and all their brethren of the wildest tribes, in all their
wanderings, have never laid their hands upon an idol—have never
worshipped an idol. They have never worshipped the sun, nor the
moon, nor the stars, nor any image of things in heaven, or earth.
They have never worshipped gods many;—but One invisible,
unchangeable, eternal Spirit! “The Great Spirit!”—as they always call
him. But where else is the people to be found, not Christian, except
among the scattered remnants of Judah and Benjamin, who have
not worshipped idols?

Let the pious descendants of the English race, both in Great Britain
and America, be encouraged to imitate the faith of the “Reverend
Doctor Francis Ayscouth,”—and of “the learned and pious Mr. John
Sergeant.” For here, in the Stockbridge tribe, is their reward. “From
generation to generation,” even under all the disadvantages of their
condition, these Indians have been growing better and better, ever
since they were first blessed by the prayers and labours of those
venerable men of God.

Yesterday was the Sabbath—and a good day it was. I had never

expected to come into this wilderness, so called, and among these
savages, so esteemed, to enjoy a Christian Sabbath, without
witnessing a single impropriety, among a whole people of this
description;—to see the congregation, the parents with their
children, “and the stranger within their gates,” going up to the house
of God in company; seating themselves with a reverence and
decorum, that might shame many communities, calling themselves
civilized, and professing Christianity; listening with fixed and
unrelaxed attention to all the public services, many of them
demonstrating a thorough religious abstraction and absorption; and
when their hearts and conscience were appealed to, in the
application of the subject of discourse, showing a depth and
quickness of feeling, which agitated their bosoms, and forced a
passage through the watery channels of the eye. And then to attend
the Sabbath school, reduced to all the order and discipline, which
characterise the best schools of this sort in the white settlements;—
superintended, indeed, by the Missionaries, but employing the adult
natives, as instructors, who engaged in their work with a ready
aptitude and apparent satisfaction:—this, too, was a scene
unexpected and grateful beyond my power to express. And all was
done in the English language, so pure, that if my eyes had been
shut, and I could have forgotten where I was, my ears would have
assured me, that I was listening to the common exercises of a
Sabbath school among the whites.

The building consecrated and employed for these purposes, is made

of unhewn logs, resting upon each other from the foundation to the
roof, and dove-tailed at the angles; forming not only heavy and
substantial walls, but strongly “compacted together.” The interstices
are filled up with a species of clay, or mud, mingled with straw to
secure its tenacity, and to exclude the wind and storm. This, it may
be understood, is the ordinary mode of constructing houses in the
new settlements, until the inhabitants are able to erect saw-mills,
and produce boards and other lumber, essential to more comely
edifices. I have been gratified to remark, that this Indian settlement
has all the conveniences, and is equally well done, as settlements of
the same age, and in similar circumstances, in the States. This
church, or meeting-house, is planted in the midst and under the
overhanging trees of a wood, because it happens to be the
geographical centre of the tribe;—and is also employed, as a
common school-house, on the week days. It will admit a
congregation, closely packed, of 300, or more—quite sufficient for
their purposes. It is delightful to see them thus assembled, and for
such a purpose, all neatly dressed in a costume, about half-way
between the European habit and that of the wild tribes; measuring
not inaptly the degree of their civilization:—the women, for the most
part, especially the matrons, wearing the old fashioned English short
gown and petticoat, with scarlet gaiters, and buckskin moccasins,
tastefully in-wrought with beads, with the white man’s beaver hat,
and some gaudy ribband for a band, which often hangs pendant
down the back, nearly to the ground. Some of the younger females
may be seen, dressed nearly to the top of the English fashion—
always exhibiting, however, some laughable incongruities. The men
seldom wear hats—and their dress also is ordinarily midway between
the European and Indian modes. The flaps of their frock hang out to
meet the trowsers, or high gaiters, which terminate half way from
the knee to the hip bone, and which are supported by strings
attached to the upper garments. They are generally closely girded
by a sash of wampum or beaded mantle, the ends of which are
pendant, like the sash of a military officer. The children are set off in
a show of slight variations from the appearances of adults. As
among civilized people, the standing in society, the degrees of
respectability and domestic wealth, are marked in dress, by varying
degrees of richness and taste. Some of the men, as well as women,
are dressed in all respects after the European plainer modes.

In the second, or afternoon service of yesterday, the sermon of the

preacher was interpreted, as is always the practice in one half of the
day, for the benefit of a small portion of the tribe, who do not
understand English. This is a slow, and a somewhat tedious mode of
intercommunication. The process is simply this: as the preacher did
not understand Indian, he delivered himself successively in short
sentences, and waited at the end of each for the interpreter to
present the thoughts, in his own tongue, to the congregation. Or
rather I might say: the preacher rested where the current of thought
more naturally allowed a pause.

I had always understood, that the Indians are good singers. It is an

exercise, for which they have great fondness. But the half had not
been told me. They seem all to be singers; and the mellowness and
sweetness of their voices, together with the accuracy of their ear,
and their horror of discord, ensure the sweetest harmonies in their
chorus. This tribe have been so long practised in the art of sacred
music, and their taste is so good in the selection of common tunes
and anthems, that they are surprisingly familiar with the most
extensive range of Christian psalmody. I heard about thirty of them
last evening, male and female, sing an hour and a half without
interruption, passing from one piece to another without repetition,
except as requested;—all done in good style of performance, (when
we compare the ordinary choirs of church singers, one with another)
and in pure English;—except occasionally, by particular desire
expressed, they sung in their own tongue. They have many psalms
and hymns translated into the same metre, so that a part of the
congregation in public worship, for whom it is more convenient, sing
in their own language, simultaneously with those, who sing in
English;—and all without confusion. You may recognise those, who
sing in English, or Indian, by the movement of their lips. It seems
impossible for Indians, when they sing in chorus, to avoid a
simultaneous movement—which is never executed in churches of
white people, where all the congregation unite;—and not always in
choirs, that have had the best opportunities of being trained. This
unerring exactitude of movement must be owing, I think, to a
natural superiority in the quickness and nicety of their musical
perceptions. I was compelled to award these Indians the palm over
the ordinary performances of Christian psalmody, among the whites.

I noticed yesterday two interesting features, appertaining to the

order of their public worship:—one was the staff and office of the
parish beadle, introduced, no doubt, by Mr. John Sergeant, nearly a
hundred years ago. The staff, in the present instance, was a green
switch, about ten feet long, which the functionary had cut from the
wood, as he came to church;—and woe to the boy, that should play,
or the man, or woman, that should sleep, under his watchful eye.
The former was switched over the ears with a briskness, which I
should judge, from the sound of its whizzing, must have made them
tingle and burn for the rest of the day. And when a man or woman
was seen nodding, the big end of the switch was turned up, and
made to thump violently against the stove-pipe over head, till it rang
like a bell, accompanied with the startling cry from the beadle, in
Indian: “Wake up, there!”—all to the no small annoyance of the
preacher;—for it happened in the middle of his sermon. But the
preacher gained at least the advantage of being heard by the
sleeper, as may well be imagined, after such a summons. Now,
although this may excite a smile among the whites, who in these
times, have generally abandoned this good sort of discipline, yet it
all passes off here by the power of custom, with the utmost gravity,
and produces a very quickening and salutary effect. The
prerogatives of this functionary, as I perceived, also extend to the
keeping of order out of doors, during the interval of public worship,
and while the congregation are assembling and retiring; so that no
boy, or youth, dares offend in his presence. And I am told there is no
partiality shown by this officer, even to his father, or mother, or wife,
or children; and that it is prudent even for the stranger, not to fall
asleep. Certain it is: I discovered no disposition to levity among the
youngsters, either within or without the house. But all was decency
and gravity, comporting with the solemnities of the day and the
place.

The other interesting feature which I noticed was: that when the
benediction was pronounced, the congregation all resumed their
sittings, and waited for those nearest the door to retire gradually
without crowding and bustle, the moral effect of which was very
pleasant. And this, too, not unlikely was a lesson taught them by Mr.
John Sergeant, ninety years ago.

In the evening, a prayer-meeting was held at the mission-house; at

which I had the pleasure of hearing two Indians pray in their native
tongue, with a ready fluency, and with great apparent fervour and
importunity. There were about fifty present:—and all kneeled during
the prayers. At the request of the missionaries, I had addressed the
Indians at their place of public worship in the day, on some of the
common topics of religion. In the evening, I spoke to them again,
and told them of their own interests, as a people; especially to
watch and defend themselves and their people against the evils of
intemperance. They were very attentive; and to my no small
surprise, when I had done, one of the chiefs rose to reply to me,
apologized for not speaking in English, and called upon an
interpreter. It may be observed, that he could speak English, as well
as the man whom he selected and put forward for that purpose. But
whenever Indians hold a public conference with strangers, they
seem to like a little of the pomp and circumstance of formality. And it
does in fact give weight and importance to the interview.

The venerable chief thanked God, that I had come so far to visit
them; and for all the good words I had spoken to them that day and
evening. He thanked all the well-wishers and benefactors of the
Indians among the white people. He reflected, with great feeling,
upon the goodness of God, in having put it in the hearts of his own
people far over the great and salt lake (the Atlantic) to send them a
Bible, (alluding to the Bible presented by Dr. Ayscouth) and a
learned and good man (Mr. Sergeant) to tell the Indians all that was
in it, and teach their children how to read it;—and for turning the
hearts of Christian white people so long time to their spiritual
welfare. The wickedness of man, he said, was very great, and they
(the Indians) had abused their privileges, and God had not taken
them away. [Here I thought he might well have indulged in
reproaches for the injuries done them by white men. But no—he was
too noble—too grateful.] He said his heart was penetrated, (laying
his hand upon his heart) when I spoke to them of the evils and
dangers of intemperance;—and declared, they were ready to do all
in their power to keep their people from the use of ardent spirits;—
and concluded in the usual manner of an Indian oration: “I have no
more to say”—and then approached and gave me his hand.

I do not pretend to recite his speech, but have merely indicated

some of its leading thoughts. I found myself unexpectedly listening
to an eloquent impromptu of an Indian chief, formally and most
respectfully addressed to myself, in presence of an assembly of
Indians;—an event I had never anticipated;—and with a manner and
tone of voice, which spoke directly from the heart. All that I had
heard in report, or imagined of Indian speeches and of their wild
oratory, instantaneously rushed upon my mind; and I saw the living
reality before me, not to detract from, but only to confirm, the
vividness of the romantic ideal. I have been constrained to feel, that
the deference and respect, which the Indian pays to a guest, when
put upon the interchange of good feeling, is unrivalled. No art of
civilized life and manners can pretend to keep company with his
politeness. The white man feels his littleness, and bows in reverence
of such moral greatness and dignity of character.

On the whole, the Sabbath I have spent at the Grande Kawkawlin, is

one I can never forget. While listening to the songs of Zion, so
sweetly attuned by these children of the forest, last evening,
accompanied with the suggestions of the occasion, and its
circumstances, I found myself involuntarily and repeatedly
exclaiming within:—Have I lived so long and enjoyed so many
privileges, to come here where it is supposed no such privileges are
had, to enjoy a higher zest and nobler interchange of religious
sympathy, than I can remember to have felt even in the most
favoured gardens of Christian culture? Many times did I think, in the
midst of the scenes brought before me yesterday: could the whole
Christian world see and hear this, they would forget all else they
were doing, and run, and come bending over these guileless children
of the wilderness, like the angels of heaven, who delight in errands
of mercy, and never leave them, till they were all raised to that
dignity and to those hopes of man, which the light and ordinances of
Christianity are designed and calculated to confer. Such a sight
would open their hearts and all their treasures, and nothing
methinks would be wanting to advance and consummate a design so
benevolent and glorious. With what expressions of good feeling and
gratitude do these Indians, old and young, male and female, crowd
forward, without waiting for the forms of introduction, to shake
hands with a stranger, whom they believe to be kind towards them!
What a rebuke to the reserved and distant etiquette of that, which is
claimed to be a more refined condition! And never did a Christian
people cherish their pastor with kinder affections, or kinder offices,
than these do their missionaries.

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?
 CHAPTER XIX.
THE ONEIDA SETTLEMENT AT DUCK CREEK, UNDER THE CARE
OF THE REV. MR. WILLIAMS, &c.

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?
 CHAPTER XX.
MANNER OF CALLING THE COUNCIL AND THE PREPARATIONS.

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