The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the Wigwam

GRAND-SUN

RAND-SUN was a chief of the Natchez tribe. Sun was a common name for all chiefs of that nation; this chief was particularly distinguished in the first war with the French, in which the Natchez engaged, and the title of Great-Sun was given him by his people. He was brave, wise, and generous, and a friend to the whites until the haughty and overbearing disposition of one man brought ruin upon the whole colony. The affair occurred in 1729.

Grand-Sun resided in the beautiful village called White Apple, near the French post of Natchez, the commandant of which was M. Chopart. This officer had been removed from his post on account of his misconduct and and abominable injustice towards the Indians, but had been reinstated, and his conduct had been the same as before. He projected the building an elegant village, and none appeared to suit his purpose so well as the White Apple of Grand-Sun. He sent for the chief to the fort, and unhesitatingly told him that he must give up his village, and remove elsewhere. Grand-Sun stifled his surprise, and replied, “that his ancestors had lived in that village for as many years as there were hairs in his double queu, and, therefore, it was good that they should continue there still.” This was interpreted to the commandant, and he became so enraged, that he threatened Grand-Sun with punishment if he did not comply.

A council of the Natchez was held. They saw that all was hopeless, unless they could rid themselves of Chopart by some stratagem. They decided to attempt it. To gain time, an offer was made to the commandant, of tribute, in case he should permit them to remain on their lands until harvest. The offer was accepted, and the Indians matured their plan. Bundles of sticks were sent to the neighboring tribes, and their meaning explained. Each bundle contained as many sticks as days before the massacre of the French at Natchez; and that no mistake should arise in regard to the fixed day, every morning a stick was drawn from the bundle and broken in pieces, and the day of the last stick was that of the execution.

The secret was confided to none but the older warriors, who could be depended upon. But Grand-Sun was compelled to make a great sacrifice of private feeling in revenging the wrongs of his countrymen. He had won the respect and esteem of several of the French hunters by his generosity and other noble qualities; and the very intimate acquaintance of one of them in particular. This was Armand Griffin, whose family resided at Natchez, while he engaged in the laborious but profitable business of hunting. Grand-Sun and Griffin had become close friends. The hospitable door of the chief’s wigwam was ever open to the hunter, and the latter frequently visited him, Grand-Sun had instructed him in all the mysteries of woodcraft, and Griffin being naturally of a daring and restless temper, had become one of the boldest and best hunters in that part of the country. In return, he instructed Grand-Sun in many of the arts of the white man, and thus mutual services strengthened the links of friendship.

When Grand-Sun had matured his scheme of revenge, he thought of the situation of Griffin’s family, and without hinting his purpose, advised the hunter to remove them for a time. But he either would not or could not, disregarding the earnest entreaties of the chief to that effect. As the appointed day approached, and the security of feeling among the French promised success to the scheme of massacre, Grand-Sun renewed his entreaties, but still without daring to disclose the secret intent. Griffin not only said that his family must remain at the post, but that he himself must be there upon the day which the chief knew was fixed for the dreadful revenge. After a struggle between friendship and patriotism, the chief with stoic fortitude resolved to sacrifice his friend rather than disclose his scheme and thus trust to the white man’s faith for keeping such a secret.

About sunset the day before the massacre, Griffin and Grand-Sun, who had been out hunting during the day, arrived at the verge of the village of White Apple. A crowd of red men were assembled to welcome their great chief. The friends stopped upon an elevated piece of ground near the Indians. Grand-Sun had just been urging upon his friend the removal of his family from the fort. But as Griffin had given signs of beginning to suspect something wrong, he suddenly checked his persuasive appeal and taking his hand, thus bade him farewell for ever.

“White man, you are my friend. We have eat, slept, and hunted together. My wigwam ever welcomed you, and you repaid me. The belt of friendship has been brighten between us, and it should not be soiled. The great fire of day is fast going out, and you must return to your pretty wife and children. When it shall again be kindled, many things may be done which may part us for ever. Farewell!” The bold hunter was affected by the manner of the chief, and for a while hung his head as if a gloom had come over him. But rousing himself, he bade the chief farewell, and returned to the post at Natchez.

Suspecting what he should have suspected long before, Griffin, as soon as he returned to the fort, bade his wife and children prepare themselves for leaving the place, and she complied, with many questions concerning the reason for this strange movement. Griffin could not exactly say. But he had resolved to leave the fort, and take shelter in a neighboring Indian village belonging to the Natchez, and in an opposite direction from White Apple. Here he had a friend, and he would feel secure. The escape was accomplished.

The next day the fort was surprised and the whole body of the French within the fort and its neighborhood were massacred. Griffin and his family, and a few hunters alone escaped, and all these through the interposition of Grand-Sun, who thus remained true to friendship, while he maintained and executed his scheme for relieving his countrymen from the oppressor. This great chief not long afterwards, was taken prisoner by a French expedition from Louisiana, his people almost annihilated, and he, the “last of his line,” died in his dungeon! Griffin ever cherished his memory, and exerted himself to save him, but in vain. The white man was relentless.

TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET

ECUMSEH, (the Crouching Panther,) was one of the greatest chiefs who ever led the red men to battle. He was by birth a Shawanee, a tribe which has ever been noted for its aversion to the whites. He was born about 1770, and first became distinguished in 1792, when, at the head of a small band of warriors, he surprised and murdered a party of whites upon Hacker’s Creek. From that time he continued to acquire a reputation for all the qualities, which, in the estimation of the Indians, make up a great leader.

In 1809, Governor Harrison, agreeably to instructions from government, purchased of the Delawares, Miamis, and Shawanees, the country on both sides of the Wabash, and extending sixty miles above Vincennes. Tecumseh demurred to the sale, and Harrison, wishing to conciliate him, appointed the 12th day of August, 1810, as the time, and Vincennes, as the place, for holding a council to settle his claims. In this council, Tecumseh delivered a speech, which eloquently unfolded his views of the aggressions of the white men, and urged that the sale of the land was invalid, because not made with the consent of all the red men living upon it. After Tecumseh had concluded his speech, and was about to seat himself, he observed that no chair had been placed for him. Harrison immediately ordered one, and as the interpreter handed it to him, he said, “Your father requests you to take a chair.”

“My father!” said Tecumseh, with sublime dignity, “the sun is my father, and the earth is my mother, and on her bosom will I repose,” and immediately seated himself upon the ground. When the council had concluded, Tecumseh expressed his intention to fight rather than yield the ground. “It is my determination,” said he, “nor will I give rest to my feet until I have united all the red men in the like resolution.”

The threat was soon executed. The active chief visited all the western tribes from the Winnebagoes to the Creeks, and made use of all means of persuasion to unite them, with one aim, the maintenance of their country free from the rule of the white man. Superstition is mighty among the red men, and Tecumseh had the means of turning it to his purpose. His brother, the well-known Prophet, (Ellskwatawa,) had obtained a reputation among the neighboring Indians, as a medicine-man and conjurer. He announced that the Great Spirit had conversed with him, and commissioned him to restore the red men to their primitive power. The Indians believed in the truth of the commission, and the Prophet, by his craft and eloquence succeeded in gaining an influence among them, second only to that of his great-spirited brother. A formidable confederacy was soon formed of which Tecumseh was the head.

The battle of Tippecanoe was fought on the night of November 6, 1811, in which sixty-two Americans were killed and one hundred and twenty-six wounded. The Prophet is said to have conducted the attack, but did not expose himself to danger. The vigilance of Harrison, and the bravery of his men, repulsed the Indians, inflicting upon them a severe loss. Tecumseh was not in the battle.

When the war broke out between Great Britain and the United States, Tecumseh seized the opportunity to join the British general with a large body of his warriors. He received the commission of brigadier-general in the British army. During the latter part of his active life, he was under the direction of General Proctor; but is said to have been greatly dissatisfied with his proceedings. After Perry’s victory on Lake Erie, Proctor abandoned Detroit, and retreated up the Thames, pursued by General Harrison, with the American army. Harrison overtook him near the Moravian town, on the 5th of October, 1813. By a novel manoeuvre, ordered by Harrison, and executed by Colonel Johnson, the British line was broken and put to flight.

The Indians, commanded by Tecumseh, maintained their ground, with a noble determination. The great chief fought with desperation, until a shot in the head from an unknown hand, laid him dead upon the field. His warriors, as if they had lost their spirit, then fled, leaving about one hundred and twenty men dead upon the field.

Tecumseh was about forty-four years of age when he fell. He was about five feet ten inches in height, and of a noble appearance. His carriage was erect and lofty – his motions quick – his eyes keen, black, and piercing – his visage stern, with an air of hauteur, which expressed his pride of spirit. He is said to have been reserved and stern in his manners. After his fall, the Indians became anxious to secure peace, convinced that their cause was hopeless. The Prophet lost their confidence, and sunk into insignificance.

THE DESTRUCTION OF MONTREAL

BOUT 1687, the Iroquois, from some neglect on the part of the governor of New York, were induced to join the French interest; and in a council which was held in the Iroquois country, the hatchet was buried and a treaty concluded, by which the Indians promised to become the firm allies of the French. The Dinondadies, a tribe of the Hurons, were considered as belonging to the confederate Indians, but from some cause they were dissatisfied with the league with the French, and wished by some exploit to indicate that they preferred the English interest.

Adaris, nicknamed by the French, “the Rat,” was the head chief of the Dinondadies, and famous for his courage and cunning. He put himself at the head of one hundred warriors, and intercepted the ambassadors of the Five Nations at one of the falls in Hadarakkin river, killing some and taking others prisoners. These he informed that the French governor had told him that fifty warriors of the Five Nations were coming that way to attack him. They were astonished at the governor’s perfidiousness, and so completely did Adaris’s plot succeed, that these ambassadors were deceived into his interest. The Five Nations did not doubt that this outrage upon their ambassadors was owing to the treachery of the French governor, and they immediately formed a scheme of revenge, the object of which was the destruction of Montreal.

At that time the island of Montreal contained the largest and most flourishing settlement in Canada. It contained about fifteen hundred inhabitants, and many flourishing plantations. The Indians thought that if they could destroy Montreal, the French power in Canada might easily be annihilated They assembled about twelve hundred of their bravest warriors, and marched for the banks of the St. Lawrence, with great secrecy and rapidity. The time fixed for the attack was the 26th of July, 1688, when the harvest was approaching.

Just before day break, on the morning of the 26th, the whole body of the Indians crossed the river, and advanced towards the settlement, endeavoring to make their march as secret as possible. The great body of the French settlers were reposing in security, but here and there an early and industrious farmer was abroad, looking after his farm and cattle. One of these, named Boulard, was the first to discover the approach of the enemy. He was walking down his lane, between a thicket and his wheat-field, when he heard a strange rustling in the bushes, at a little distance, and he stopped and leaned against a fence to observe what caused it. Boulard had not waited long before he caught sight of the form of two or three red men coming through the wood, and he was discovered by them at the same time.

As one of them rushed toward him, gun in hand, he sprang into his wheat-field and endeavored to conceal the direction he took. A volley of musketry followed him, and he was wounded, yet he kept on, fear giving him extraordinary strength, and he reached the house of a neighbor. The alarm was given; but it was too late. Twelve hundred red men, like so many bloodhounds, were let loose upon unprepared settlers. An awful silence followed. Houses were burned, plantations destroyed and the inhabitants butchered. But little resistance was offered to the Indians, and that was soon crushed. About four hundred persons were killed upon the spot, and the Indians retreated carrying with them a large number of prisoners, who were doomed to a more dreadful death. The loss of the Indians in the expedition was trifling.

The destruction of Montreal was a terrible blow to the French, and it was so well fol: lowed up by the powerful Iroquois, that it is thought, if the Indians had been acquainted with the art of attacking fortified places, the enemy would have been forced to abandon Canada. But they had not the necessary knowledge; and the English were not wise enough to supply them with it. The French maintained their ground, and the Iroquois were afterwards punished for their unscrupulous warfare.

A BUFFALO HUNT

HE buffalo hunt, next to the Indian battle, is the most intensely exciting scene which may be witnessed among the wilds of the west. To the buffalo, the Indian looks for food, for clothing, and for religious and household implements. He regards the hunting of that animal not only as a pleasure, but a duty; and when once it is rumored through a village that a herd of buffalo is in sight, their warriors who have faced death in a hundred forms, bring out their swiftest horses, and spring upon them; and when the whole party rush across the field eager to engage the bellowing herd, a scene is presented for which it would be in vain to look for a parallel, even among the cane-brakes of Africa, or the jungles of India.

The Indians have several methods of attacking buffaloes. The most exciting as well as the most dangerous one is that in which they run round the herd for the purpose of destroying it. The hunters, well-mounted with bows and lances, divide themselves into two columns, take opposite directions, and at the distance of a mile or two, draw gradually around the herd, and having formed a circle, close upon their prey at regular distance, On seeing the danger, the herd run in the opposite direction, where they are met by the other party. The circle is gradually closed, and the parties unite. By this time, the buffaloes are wheeling about in a crowded and confused mass, wounding and climbing upon each other. Then their destruction commences. Galloping round, the hunters drive the arrows and lances to the hearts of their victims. Sometimes, the animals, furious from their wounds, plunge forward, and bear down horse and rider, goring and crushing the former, while the active Indian escapes. Sometimes the herd divides in two, and the hunters, blinded by clouds of dust, are wedged in among the crowding beasts, when their only chance of escape is to leap over the backs of the herd, leaving the horse to his fate. Occasionally, a buffalo selects a particular horseman, and pursues him at full speed, until, when stooping to lift the horse upon his horns, he receives in the side the warrior’s shaft. Some of the Indians, when pursued, throw their buffalo robe over the horns and eyes of the furious animal, and, dashing by its side, drives the weapon to its heart. Others dash off upon the prairie, in pursuit of the few who got separated from the herd. In a few moments, the hunt is changed into a desperate battle, and gradually the whole mass of buffaloes sink in death.

The hunters then dismount from their horses, and claim their prey by drawing the arrows or lances from the sides of the dead beasts, and showing their private marks. Quarrels are generally avoided by this plan. After all the animals have been claimed, the warriors hold a council, and after smoking a few pipes, ride into the village and announce the result. Of course, every thing there is in commotion, and soon long processions of dogs and women issue forth, skin and cut up the prey, and return amid loud acclamations to their homes.

TREATMENT OF INDIAN CHILDREN

HOSE who have had the best opportunities for knowing the real character of the Indians, have remarked, among many other good traits, the great affection they have for their children, and the respect which young people pay, not only to their parents, but to all elderly people.

Before the little papoose can walk alone, it is confined in a cradle, which is carried on the mother’s back while she is at her work, or set upright against the wall, or a tree. The mother teaches her children how to make leggins, moccasins, and many other things that have already been described; and if she be a good mother, as many of the squaws are, she is particular in keeping her daughters constantly employed, so that they may have the reputation of being industrious girls, which is a recommendation to the young men to marry them; Corporal punishment is seldom used for the correction of children; but if they commit any fault, it is common for the mother to blacken their faces, and send them out of the lodge. Sometimes they are kept a whole day in this situation, as a punishment for their misconduct. They think that corporal punishment breaks the spirit of the child, and in this they appear to be wiser than their white brethren. Parental love should persuade and guide the bold of spirit, not destroy their courage.

When the boys are six or seven years of age, a small bow and arrows are put into their hands, and they are sent out to shoot birds around the lodge or village; this they continue to do for five or six years, and then their father procures for them short guns, and they begin to hunt ducks, geese, and small game. They are then gradually instructed in the whole art of hunting, and lastly of warfare.

The Indians generally appear to be more afflicted at the loss of an infant, or young child, than at that of a person of mature years. The latter, they think, can provide for himself in the country whither he has gone, but the former is too young to do so. The men appear ashamed to show any signs of grief, at the loss of any relation, however dear he might have been to them; but the women do not conceal their feelings; and on the loss of either husband or child, they cut off their hair, disfigure their face and limbs with black paint, and even with cuts, and burn all their clothes except a few miserable rags.

MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN

HE colonists of New England, and especially of New Hampshire, were rarely free from apprehension of attack from their savage neighbors. A desultory warfare was carried on, even when treaties seemed to have secured peace. Houses were burned, farms, teeming with the fruits of toil, destroyed, and the inhabitants either murdered or made captive. Many instances are recorded, of suffering and torture inflicted upon families, which have been thus attacked. One of the most remarkable has been preserved in the words of one of the victims, Mrs. Elizabeth Hanson.

On the 27th of June, 1724, a party of Indians were discovered in the neighborhood of the house of John Hanson, in Dover township, New Hampshire. They had been lurking in the fields several days, watching their opportunity, when Mr. Hanson and his men should be out of the way. At the favorable moment, thirteen Indians, all naked, and armed with tomahawks and guns, rushed into the house, killing one child as soon as they entered the door. The leader came up to Mrs. Hanson, but gave her quarter. At the time of the attack, she had a servant and six children. Two of the little ones were at play in the orchard, and the youngest child, only fourteen days old, was in the cradle.

The Indians set about rifling the house, fearing to be interrupted by the return of some of the men, and packed up every thing that pleased them, and which they could conveniently carry. The two children running in from the orchard, the Indians killed one to prevent its shrieking, and gave the other to the mother. The dead children were scalped, and the mother, the servant, and the remaining children, were taken hastily from the house. Mrs. Hanson was weak, yet she had no alternative but to go, or die, and her children were frightened into silence. After wading through several swamps, and some brooks, and carefully avoiding every thing like a road, the party halted at night-fall, about ten miles from Mrs. Hanson’s house. A fire was lighted, and a watch set, while the rest of the party sought repose.

Just as the day appeared, the Indians were awake, and, with their captives, set out again and travelled very hard all that day through swamps and woods without a path. At night all lodged upon the cold ground, wet and weary. Thus for twenty-six days, day by day, the party travelled, over mountains, through tangled thickets, and across rivers and swamps, sometimes without any food but pieces of beaver skin, and enduring hardships, to which the Indians were accustomed, but which the poor captives could scarcely bear.

At the end of twenty-six days, the party reached the borders of Canada, and as they were compelled to separate, the captive family was divided between them. This was a sore parting, but the mother had become resigned to her fate, and taught her children by example how to suffer. The eldest daughter, about sixteen years of age, was first taken away, and soon after, the second daughter and the servant, at that time very weak for want of food, were divided between Indians going to different parts of the country. The mother, her babe and little boy remained with the chief, and soon arrived at his village.

The captives were now well provided with food, but were compelled to sleep upon the cold ground in a wigwam. As the wigwam was often removed from place to place for the convenience of hunting, and the winter was approaching, the lodging became disagreeable, and the small children suffered severely. When the chief arrived at the Indian fort, he was received with great rejoicing, and every savage manifestation of respect. The shouting, drinking, feasting, and firing of guns continued several days.

The chief had not long been at home, before he went out on a hunting excursion, and was absent about a week. Mrs. Hanson was left in his wigwam, and ordered to get in wood; gather nuts, &c. She diligently performed what she had been commanded; but when the chief returned, he was in an ill-humor; not having found any game. He vented his spleen upon the poor captives, of course. Mrs. Hanson was roughly treated, and her son knocked down. She did not dare to murmur, however, fearing his anger.