CHAPTER II.

Few and meagre are the records of occurrences on the banks of the Chicago during these quiet years. The stagnation in this remote corner of creation was in sharp contrast with the doings in the great world, for these were the momentous Napoleonic years. Austerlitz, Jena, Eylau, Friedland, Wagram, were fought between 1805 and 1809, and one wonders whether even the echoes of thesound of those fights reached little Fort Dearborn. Yet the tremendous doings were not without their influence; for it was Napoleon's "European System" and England's struggle against it that precipitated our war of 1812; and one trivial incident in that war was the ruin of our little outpost.

The incidents of daily life went on in the lonely settlement, as elsewhere.

There was the occasional birth of a baby in the Kinzie house, the fort or somewhere about, as there were several women here, soldiers' wives, etc. Those born in the Kinzie mansion and the officers' families we know about. But these were not all. There were at least a dozen little ones who first saw the light in this locality, whose play-ground was the parade and the river bank, whose merry voices must have added a human sweetness to this savage place; whose entire identity, even to their names, is lost. The one thing we know about them is how they died, and that has been told in Part I.

BUILDING OF THE FIRST FORT DEARBORN.

A Red Coat of 1812A "red-coat" of 1812.

A "red-coat" of 1812.

DELAYING our narrative for a moment, we here bring upon the scene another figure—the most distinguished and heroic of all who were to play a part in the terrific tragedy which formed its climax—William Wells.[S]This brave fellow, born of white parents, but early stolen by Indians, and only restored after arriving at manhood, was a friend and agent of General Harrison, who was at that time Governor of the Indian Territory. Captain Wells had come to Chicago in 1803 on official duty, as appears by a license (which the writer has had the privilege of inspecting) issued to Jean B. La Geuness, to trade with the Indians. This paper is still in existence, in the possession of Dr. H. B. Tanner of Kaukaunee, Wis., having come to him from among the papers of Judge John Lawe of Green Bay, who was for many years agent of the American (John Jacob Astor's) Fur Company. The license bears the name of "William Henry Harrison, Governor of the Indian Territory and Superintendent of Indian Affairs," and is signed "by order of the Governor. William Wells, Agent at Indian Affairs, Chicago, August the 30th, 1803."

[S]SeeAppendix E.

This license must have been signed in the old De Saible house. No fort was here yet, nor any government office or officer, so far as we know. Indeed, this page records, for the first time in history, the fact that William Wells was in Chicago before 1812. Eight years later his niece was to appear on the scene, arriving as the bride of Captain Heald, then commanding Fort Dearborn.

But to return to Captain Whistler and the embryo fort.

A glimpse of early garrison-life appears in the personal narrative of Captain Thomas C. Anderson, published in Volume IX of the Wisconsin Historical Collection:

During my second year [1804-5] at Min-na-wack, or Mill-wack-ie [Milwaukee] Captain Whistler, with his company of American soldiers, came to take possession of Chicago. At this time there were no buildings here except a few dilapidated log huts covered with bark. Captain Whistler had selected one of these as a temporary, though miserable, residence for his family, his officers and men being under canvas. On being informed of his arrival I felt it my duty to pay my respects to the authority so much required by the country. On the morrow I mounted Kee-ge-kaw, or Swift-goer, and the next day I was invited to dine with the Captain. On going to the house, the outer door opening into the dining-room, I found the table spread, the family and guests seated, consisting of several ladies, all as jolly as kittens.

The fort consisted of a stockade large enough to contain a parade-ground and all the fort buildings, officers' quarters, barracks, offices, guard-house, magazine, etc., and also two block-houses, each built so that the second story overhung the lower, thus giving a vertical fire for musketry to guard against an enemy's setting fire to the house. One of these was at the southeast corner and the other at the northwest. There were entrances on the south side (Michigan Avenue), and on the north or water side, where a sunken road led down to the river. Mr.Blanchard, in his "Chicago and the Northwest," says that the armament consisted of the musket and bayonet, and three pieces of light artillery—probably the old six-pounder, which threw a round ball about double the size of a child's fist.

FORT DEARBORN, 1803-4. (Fergus' Series, No. 16)

Beside the fort, the government put up an "Agency House," which stood on the river bank just west of the sunken road that led from the fort to the water. Mrs. Kinzie describes this building as an old-fashioned log-house with a hall running through the middle, and one large room on each side. Piazzas extended the whole length of the building, in front and rear. It played a part in the final tragedy, and was destroyed with the fort on August 15, 1812.

Munsell's "History of Chicago" gives the following picture at and after the building of the first fort:

When the schooner Tracy set sail and slowly vanished in the northwestern horizon, we may fancy that some wistful glances followed her. For those left behind it was the severing of all regular ties with "home," for years or forever. An occasional courier fromDetroit or Fort Wayne brought news from the outside world; a rare canoe or bateau carried furs to Mackinaw and brought back tea, flour, sugar, salt, tobacco, hardware, powder and lead, dry goods, shoes, etc., perhaps a few books[T]and, best of all, letters! But between-times, what had they to make life worth living? Which of the compensations kind Nature always keeps in store, for even the most desolate of her children, were allotted to them?

[T]John H. Kinzie used to tell how, as a boy, he learned to read from a spelling-book which was unexpectedly found in a chest of tea, and that books were associated with the smell of tea in his mind forever after.

They had the lake for coolness and beauty in summer; the forest for shelter, warmth and cheer in winter; masses of flowers in spring, and a few—very few—fruits and nuts in autumn, such as wild grapes and strawberries, wintergreen-berries, cranberries, whortleberries, hazel-nuts, walnuts, hickory-nuts, beech-nuts, etc. There was no lack of game to be had for the hunting, or fish for the catching. The garrison had cattle, therefore there was doubtless fresh beef, milk and butter. So a "good provider," as John Kinzie doubtless was (we know that he was the soul of hospitality) would be certain to keep his wife's larder always full to overflowing.The garrison officers' families made company for each other and the Kinzies and Jouetts; the soldiers gave protection and a thousand other services to all, and the two fifers and two drummers made music—such as it was. This rude melody was not all they had, however, for John Kinzie was a fiddler as well as a trader and a silver-smith ("Shaw-nee-aw-kee," or the "silver-smith," was his Indian name), and in the cool summer evenings, sitting on his porch, would send the sound of his instrument far and wide, over river and plain, through the dewy silence of the peaceful landscape.They had love and marriage, birth and death, buying and selling and getting gain; and, happily, had not the gift of "second sight," to divine what lay before them; what kind of end was to come to their exile.

The garrison officers' families made company for each other and the Kinzies and Jouetts; the soldiers gave protection and a thousand other services to all, and the two fifers and two drummers made music—such as it was. This rude melody was not all they had, however, for John Kinzie was a fiddler as well as a trader and a silver-smith ("Shaw-nee-aw-kee," or the "silver-smith," was his Indian name), and in the cool summer evenings, sitting on his porch, would send the sound of his instrument far and wide, over river and plain, through the dewy silence of the peaceful landscape.

They had love and marriage, birth and death, buying and selling and getting gain; and, happily, had not the gift of "second sight," to divine what lay before them; what kind of end was to come to their exile.

Mr. Wentworth's Fort Dearborn speech (Fergus' Historical Series No. 16, page 87) quotes a letter he had received from Hon. Robert Lincoln, Secretary of War under President Garfield. From it we learn that no muster-roll of the garrison at Fort Dearborn in 1811 or 1812 is on file at the War Department, but that the general returns ofthe army show that the fort was garrisoned from June 4, 1804, to June, 1812, by a company of the First Regiment of Infantry. In these returns the strength of the garrison, officers, musicians and privates, is given as follows: Under Captain John Whistler, June 4, 1804, 69; Dec. 31, 1806, 66; Sept. 30, 1809, 77. Under Captain Nathan Heald, Sept. 30, 1810, 67; Sept. 30, 1811, 51, and June —, 1812, 53.[U]

[U]SeeAppendix Bfor a muster-roll dated Dec 31, 1810 (the latest entry which gives names), wherein are shown several who appear later as victims of the massacre.

The deficiency of records in the archives of the War Department may perhaps be accounted for by the fact that the British, after the so-called "battle" of Bladensburgh, took Washington and burned all the government buildings.

In 1811 Captain Nathan Heald, then in command of Fort Dearborn, went down to Kentucky, where he married Rebekah Wells daughter of Captain Samuel Wells and niece of William.[V]The newly married pair came up overland (probably following the trail marked by Mr. Jouett), bringing the wedding treasures of the bride—silver, etc., and her own personal adornments, which interesting relics, after vicissitudes strange and terrible, are now in possession of her son, Darius Heald, and, with him, are depicted elsewhere in these pages.

[V]SeeAppendix Efor additional details regarding the romantic history of the Wells and Heald families.

Mrs. Heald's narrative of these events, as reported to me by her son, is as follows:

In the summer of 1811, Captain Heald, then in command of Fort Dearborn, at Chicago, got leave of absence to go down to Louisville, to get married. He went on horseback, alone, traveling by compass.They were married, and after the wedding started north on horseback for Fort Dearborn. There were four horses—two for the bride and groom, one for the packs and blankets, and one for a littlenegro slave-girl named Cicely. This girl had begged so hard to be brought along that they could not refuse her request, although it was, as the Captain said, adding one more to the difficulties of making the long, lonesome, toilsome trip on horseback. They traveled by compass, as before. The horses were good ones, and not Indian ponies. Those that the Captain and his bride rode were thoroughbreds, as was the one ridden by the slave-girl, and they had also a good one to carry the pack, so that they made the trip in about a week's time; starting Thursday, and reaching Fort Dearborn on the following Wednesday night, making about fifty miles a day. Nothing of importance occurred on the bridal trip; they arrived safely, and the garrison turned out to receive them with all the honors of war, the bride being quite an addition to the little company.Rebekah was much pleased with her reception, and found everything bright and cheerful. She liked the wild place, the wild lake and the wild Indians; everything suited her ways and disposition, "being on the wild order herself," she said; and all went on very pleasantly. Among other gayeties there was skating in winter up and down the frozen river, and Ensign Ronan was a famous skater. Sometimes he would take an Indian squaw by the hands, she holding her feet still, and swing her back and forth from side to side of the little stream, until he came to a place where there was a deep snowdrift on the bank, when he would (accidentally, of course) loose his grip on her hands, and she would fly off into the snowdrift and be buried clear out of sight.

In the summer of 1811, Captain Heald, then in command of Fort Dearborn, at Chicago, got leave of absence to go down to Louisville, to get married. He went on horseback, alone, traveling by compass.

They were married, and after the wedding started north on horseback for Fort Dearborn. There were four horses—two for the bride and groom, one for the packs and blankets, and one for a littlenegro slave-girl named Cicely. This girl had begged so hard to be brought along that they could not refuse her request, although it was, as the Captain said, adding one more to the difficulties of making the long, lonesome, toilsome trip on horseback. They traveled by compass, as before. The horses were good ones, and not Indian ponies. Those that the Captain and his bride rode were thoroughbreds, as was the one ridden by the slave-girl, and they had also a good one to carry the pack, so that they made the trip in about a week's time; starting Thursday, and reaching Fort Dearborn on the following Wednesday night, making about fifty miles a day. Nothing of importance occurred on the bridal trip; they arrived safely, and the garrison turned out to receive them with all the honors of war, the bride being quite an addition to the little company.

Rebekah was much pleased with her reception, and found everything bright and cheerful. She liked the wild place, the wild lake and the wild Indians; everything suited her ways and disposition, "being on the wild order herself," she said; and all went on very pleasantly. Among other gayeties there was skating in winter up and down the frozen river, and Ensign Ronan was a famous skater. Sometimes he would take an Indian squaw by the hands, she holding her feet still, and swing her back and forth from side to side of the little stream, until he came to a place where there was a deep snowdrift on the bank, when he would (accidentally, of course) loose his grip on her hands, and she would fly off into the snowdrift and be buried clear out of sight.

In 1812 the peaceful quiet was rudely startled, then assaulted, then destroyed. The first breach of the peace was the killing by Mr. Kinzie (in self-defense) of one John Lalime, Indian interpreter at Fort Dearborn.[W]This was early in 1812. It had, however, nothing to do with the friendliness or enmity of the red-men.

[W]SeeAppendix F.

The second event was of a different kind. A man named Lee.[X]who lived on the lake-shore, near the fort, had enclosed and was farming a piece of land on the northwest side of the South Branch, within the present "Lumber District," about half way between Halsted Street and Ashland avenue. It was first known as "Lee'sPlace," afterwards as "Hardscrabble." It was occupied by one Liberty White, with two other men and a boy, the son of Mr. Lee.

[X]This name I find sometimes spelled "Lee," and sometimes "See."

CABIN IN THE WOODS.

This spot was not far from the place where Père Marquette passed the winter of 1674-75; perhaps the very same ground. (See Munsell's History of Chicago for a copy of the good Father's journal, with parallel translation.) Mrs. John Kinzie, first in a pamphlet dated in 1836, and published in 1844, and later in Wau-Bun, gives an extremely picturesque account of the alarm, evidently taken down from the lips of those who had been present; namely her husband (then a boy), his mother, Mrs. John Kinzie, and his half-sister, Mrs. Helm.

It was the evening of the 7th of April, 1812. The children of Mrs. Kinzie were dancing before the fire to the music or their father's violin. The tea-table was spread, and they were awaiting the return of their mother, who was gone to visit a sick neighbor. [Mrs. John Burns, living at about where is now the crossing of Kinzie and State Streets, had just been delivered of a child.] Suddenly their sports were interrupted; the door was thrown open and Mrs. Kinzie rushed in pale with terror, and scarcely able to articulate."The Indians! The Indians!""The Indians! What? Where?""Up at Lee's place, killing and scalping!"With difficulty Mrs. Kinzie composed herself sufficiently to give the information that while she was up at Burns's a man and a boy were seen running down with all speed to the opposite side of the river; that they called across to give notice to Burns's family to save themselves, for the Indians were at Lee's place, from which they had just made their escape. Having given this terrifying news they made all speed for the fort, which was on the same side of the river that they were. All was now consternation and dismay. The family were hurried into two old pirogues [dug-out tree-trunks] that were moored near the house, and paddled with all possible haste across the river to take refuge in the fort.

"The Indians! The Indians!"

"The Indians! What? Where?"

"Up at Lee's place, killing and scalping!"

With difficulty Mrs. Kinzie composed herself sufficiently to give the information that while she was up at Burns's a man and a boy were seen running down with all speed to the opposite side of the river; that they called across to give notice to Burns's family to save themselves, for the Indians were at Lee's place, from which they had just made their escape. Having given this terrifying news they made all speed for the fort, which was on the same side of the river that they were. All was now consternation and dismay. The family were hurried into two old pirogues [dug-out tree-trunks] that were moored near the house, and paddled with all possible haste across the river to take refuge in the fort.

Mrs. Kinzie goes on to give the fullest account we have of this initial murder, fitting prelude to the bloody drama to follow a few months later. Here is a condensation of her narrative:

In the afternoon a party of ten or twelve Indians, dressed and painted, arrived at the Lee house, and according to their custom, entered and seated themselves without ceremony. Something in their appearance and manner excited the suspicions of one of the family, a Frenchman [Debou], who remarked: "I don't like the looks of those Indians; they are not Pottowatomies." Another of the family, a discharged soldier, said to a boy (a son of Lee): "If that is the case, we had better get away if we can. Say nothing, but do as you see me do." As the afternoon was far advanced, the soldier walked leisurely toward the two canoes tied near the bank. They asked where he was going. He pointed to the cattle which were standing among the hay-stacks on the opposite bank, and made signs that they must go and fodder them and then return and get their supper.

KINZIE MANSION—1812.

He got into one canoe and the boy into the other. When they gained the opposite side they pulled some hay for the cattle, and when they had gradually made a circuit so that their movements were concealed by the hay-stacks, they took to the woods and made for the fort. They had run a quarter of a mile when they heard the discharge of two guns successively. They stopped not nor stayed until they arrived opposite Burns's place (North State and Kinzie streets), where they called across to warn the Burns family of their danger, and then hastened to the fort.

A party of soldiers had that afternoon obtained leave to go up the river to fish. The commanding officer ordered a cannon to be fired to warn them of their danger. Hearing the signal they took the hint, put out their torches and dropped down the river as silently as possible. It will be remembered that the battle of Tippecanoe, the preceding November, had rendered every man vigilant, and the slightest alarm was an admonition to "beware of Indians."

When the fishing-party reached Lee's place, it was proposed to stop and warn the inmates. All was still as death around the house. They groped their way along, and as the corporal jumped over the small enclosure he placed his hand on the dead body of a man. By the sense of touch he soon ascertained that the head was without a scalp and was otherwise mutilated. The faithful dog of the murdered man stood guarding the remains of his master.

Captain Heald, writing from the fort, gives a shorter statement, adding some further particulars:

Chicago, April 15, 1812.—The Indians have commenced hostilities in this quarter. On the sixth instant, a little before sunset, a party of eleven Indians, supposed to be Winnebagoes, came to Messrs. Russell and See's cabin, in a field on the Portage branch of the Chicago River, about three miles from the garrison, where they murdered two men; one by the name of Liberty White, an American, and the other a Canadian Frenchman whose name I do not know. [Debou.] White received two balls through his body, nine stabs with a knife in his breast, and one in his hip, his throat was cut from ear to ear, his nose and lips were taken off in one piece, and his head was skinned almost as far round as they could find any hair. The Frenchman was only shot through the neck and scalped. Since the murder of these two men, one or two other parties of Indians have been lurking about us, but we have been so much on our guard they have not been able to get any scalps.

HUMAN SCALP.

Among all the tribes of savages met by various immigrations of Europeans, a thousand differences of arms, implements, manners, habits and customs were observed. Some were more barbarous, others less; but there was one trophy one weapon, one trait, invariable and universal—the bleeding scalp, the sharp scalping-knife, the rage for scalping. This proves much. It shows that killing was not a mere means to an end, but the end aimed at. It shows that sheer, unadulterated, unmitigated murder was the ideal grace of manhood. The brain-pan of man, woman or child yielded its covering, torn away warm and quivering, and the possessor was sure of the honor and favor of his fellows, men, women and children. No woman shed a tear over the locks of a sister woman; no child over the curls of a baby.

Savagery the world has ever known, and isolated instances of wholesale destruction of non-combatants in the drunkenness of victory; but there is no record of a whole race, consisting of many tribes, spread over many lands, enduring for many generations, where such diabolism was the general ethnic trait.

ENGLISH AND INDIAN SAVAGES.

TINDIAN WARRIOR

INDIAN WARRIOR

THE WINNEBAGOES, we observe, are charged by Captain Heald with this outbreak of lawlessness.

The Pottowatomies always averred that they had nothing to do with the great massacre, and this may be true of the tribe as a whole, but it is well known that many of its members, as well as the Winnebagoes, had been engaged with the Ottawas and Shawnees at the battle of Tippecanoe, less than a year before. The English, ever since the Revolution, had been seeking their friendship—and our injury—by giving them yearly presents at Maiden (in Canada, near Detroit), and they placed much foolish reliance on the red-men's help in prosecuting the war of 1812. Foolish, because the unspeakable savage was only formidable in sneaking hostilities against women and children, and against men unwarned and overmatched; not in a fair fight on equal terms. In all that contest they were simply murderously hostile. Wau-Bun gives an incident which displays their animus. In the spring of 1812 two Indians of the Calamic (Calumet) band came to the fort to visit Captain Heald. One of them, Nau-non-gee, seeing Mrs. Heald and Mrs. Helm playing battle-door on the parade-ground, said to the interpreter (probably JohnKinzie): "The white chief's wives are amusing themselves very much; it will not be long before they will be hoeing in our cornfields."

The service they rendered England is such as England should blush to receive. It was the service of inspiring terror in the hearts of the helpless. Two days after the massacre at Chicago, the unfortunate and execrated General Hull surrendered Detroit to the British and Indians. Why did he do so? He had suffered no defeat. He could have crossed the river and fought them with every prospect of victory. But could he leave that town at the mercy of fiends who knew no mercy? He could have given battle at Detroit itself, but the British General (Proctor) kindly told him that if he should be compelled to assault he would not be able to control his Indian allies. Now, in case of defeat, Hull's army could take care of themselves, either as prisoners or fugitives; but what might become of a thousand helpless, hapless women and children, and the wounded men he would have on his hands? What would have become of them? Read further on in this narrative and see!

So, in an evil hour for himself. General Hull took the merciful course, and innocent blood was spared. The fall of Detroit was directly due to non-military caution, a mercifulness that had nothing to do with the hazard of civilized war and the fate of the army. The unfortunate commander, a man of undoubted courage, a man who had served his country through the Revolution, was tried by court-martial and condemned to death. The sentence was not carried out in form, but in substance it was, for he lived in obscurity, if not obloquy, and died with a stained name which is slowly recovering its proper place.

Vain is it for apologists to try to shift on to local subordinates the blame for the shameful course of Lord Liverpool'sgovernment. The same king was (nominally) reigning who had employed these same allies only thirty years before, George Third was on the throne through both wars; that of the Revolution and that of 1812. English ears—such as were sensitive to just and bitter denunciation—must still, in 1812, have been ringing with the public outcry against the infamy of 1775-82. Even England's own servants protested against it. Doubtless they felt, as any gentleman must feel, that he who stays at home in personal safety and employs base minions to do his murdering, is more contemptible than are the minions themselves, for they at least take their lives in their hands when they set out.

Where stand the guilty in this business? Lower than where we should stand if we had, during our Civil War, incited the negroes to the destruction of their masters' families, for the negro cannot be as cruel as the Indian could not helping being. Lower than Russia would stand if, in a war along the Afghan frontier, she should scheme for a new Sepoy rebellion, with its ravishing and maiming of well born English women. Such women were treated worse than even Dante's fancy could portray, and yet not worse than were the survivors of the Chicago Massacre.

In the little settlement a wild season of alarm followed the double murder at Hardscrabble. The surviving civilians, consisting of a few discharged soldiers and some families of half-breeds, organized themselves for defense. They took for their stronghold the Agency House already-mentioned as standing on the river-bank just west of the fort. The house (as has been said) was built of logs and had porches on both its long sides. They planked up the porches, leaving loopholes for firing through, and set guards in proper military fashion. To quote once more from Munsell.

As this was outside of garrison duty, it must have required a volunteer force, organized and armed; and this seems to furnish a clue hitherto unmarked by any historian, to explain the presence of "twelve militia" who were mentioned by Captain Heald in his report as having taken part in the fight of August 15th, and as having been every one killed. No other mention of these devoted twelve exists in any form except the grim memorandum of death at the post of duty.[Y]Evidently they must have been organized and armed under the auspices of the government force at this time, from the discharged soldiers and half-breeds, and perhaps included Lee, Pettell, Burns, Russell, etc., all of whom were probably enrolled and expected pay from the government, albeit their claim necessarily lapsed with their own death on that bloody day. In confirmation of this suggestion we have Mrs. Kinzie's remark (Wau-Bun, p. 244) that Lee, his son, and all his household, except his wife and daughter, had perished in the affray. Also her mention of Mrs. Burns and her infant among the survivors; no word being uttered about the husband and father.

[Y]See Mrs. Kinzie's narrative and Captain Heald's letter, hereinafter quoted.

The Kinzies did not return to their North Side house. Mr. Kinzie had succeeded Lalime as government interpreter, and doubtless the garrison needed his services almost continually. There were several slight alarms and disturbances. A night patrol fired at a prowling red-man, and a hatchet hurled in return missed its mark and struck a wagon-wheel. A horse-stealing raid upon the garrison stables, failing to find the horses, was turned into an attack on the sheep, which were all stabbed and set loose. These alarms and other things combined to show that the quiet of the preceding days had come to an end. The unspeakable Indian had been bribed, tempted and misled by the miserable Englishman to take up again his cruelties; his burning, scalping, tomahawking, knifing and mutilation of combatants and non-combatants alike, men, women and children.

War was declared by the United States against England on June 12, 1812. Mackinaw was taken by the British on July 16. Having Detroit to protect and a force of British and Indians to oppose, General Hull naturally aimed to mass his forces and abandon all indefensible outlying posts, such as Fort Dearborn evidently was. Therefore, about August 1st, he sent by Winnemeg, afriendly Indian, a dispatch to Captain Heald, ordering him to evacuate the fort and to proceed to Detroit by land with his command, leaving it to his discretion to dispose of the public property as he might think proper.[Z]Mrs. Kinzie, in Wau-Bun, says that the messenger arrived on August 7th, instead of the 9th which Captain Heald names as the date of his receipt of the order, and adds that the same letter brought news of the declaration of war (which had taken place about two months earlier) and of the loss of the post at Mackinaw. She also gives us a new reading of the dispatch, quite different from that given by Captain Heald. She says the orders to Captain Heald were "to vacate the fort if practicable, and in that event to distribute all the United States property contained in the fort and in the United States factory, or agency, among the Indians in the neighborhood." This discrepancy between our two sources of information becomes important in judging of the blame, if any, attributable to Captain Heald for the disaster toward which all were hastening. Guided by the ordinary rules of evidence, we must take Captain Heald's version as the true one, and believe that the order was peremptory, only to be disobeyed if the subordinate officer felt sure that it would not have been given if his superior had been on the spot; and also that the distribution of goods was, on Captain Heald's part, a voluntary concession intended to win the favor of the Indian—the incurable savage.

[Z]SeeAppendix E.

It should here be stated that there is a broad divergence—one might say a contradiction—between the Kinzie account and the Heald account of the occurrences of that troubled, appalling, disastrous time. Mrs. Kinzie says that Winnemeg privately told Mr. Kinzie that the fort ought not to be evacuated, seeing that it was well supplied with provisions and ammunition, and advisedwaiting for reinforcements. Also that if Captain Heald was to go at all, he should start at once, to get out of the way of the hostiles by a forced march while the Indians were dividing the spoil. (How many "forced marches" would it have taken to make that lumbering caravan safe from pursuit by the red runners of the wilds?) She says:

The order for evacuating the post was read next morning upon parade. It is difficult to understand why Captain Heald, in such an emergency, omitted the usual form of calling a council of war with his officers. It can only be accounted for by the fact of a want of harmonious feeling between himself and one of his junior officers—Ensign Ronan, a high-spirited and somewhat overbearing, but brave and generous young man.

A "council of war" between the captain and his two lieutenants and (perhaps) the surgeon, to debate an unconditional order received from the general commanding the division, does not strike the average reader as an "usual form," nor does any disaffection on the part of the junior among the officers seem likely to enter into the question, one way or the other. But the suggestion throws a side-light on the unhappy state of things at Fort Dearborn. It seems unquestionable that this young ensign was not in accord with his captain, and that the Kinzies, especially the young story-teller, Mrs. Helm (who was Mrs. Kinzie's authority), sided with the junior—as was perhaps natural. To quote from Munsell:

It becomes necessary here to call to mind the possible bias which may have existed in the hearts of the narrators in handing down the story to Mrs. Kinzie, the writer of Wau-Bun, who probably never saw the principal actor in it, John Kinzie, behaving died two years before her marriage with his son, John H. Kinzie. The latter was only nine years old at the time of the massacre. His mother, however, Mrs. Kinzie, she did know well, also his aunt, Mrs. Helm [John's step-daughter], from whose lips the Wau-Bun account of the massacre was taken down by her. It is quite certain that departure meant ruin to John Kinzie; for of all the property he had accumulated in his long, able, arduous and profitable businesslife, not a handful could be carried away by land. And the event showed that he, personally, had nothing to fear from the Indians.

Here is what Mrs. Heald says about these matters:

It is all false about any quarrel between Ronan and Captain Heald. The ensign thought the world of the captain, and gave him a big book with their two names written it. Among the property recovered after the massacre was this book, which the Indians thought was the Bible. They would pass their hands across the pages and point significantly heavenward; but in fact the book was a dictionary and is still in possession of the family, having been bound in buckskin to preserve such part as has not already succumbed to the many vicissitudes. Occasionally Indians would come and steal horses when the men were some distance away cutting hay for the winter's supplies, and they were apt to try to get the scalp of any white person against whom they had any hard feeling.Mrs. Heald recalls a particular case where a soldier, a great stammerer, was out on picket, and from the block-house window she saw an Indian try to get between him and the fort. To attract the soldier's attention Captain Heald had a gun fired, and the man, when he saw his peril, started homeward, the Indian at the same time starting to cut him off. The soldier was the best runner, and when the Indian called out to him some taunting expression, he looked over his shoulder and tried to shout a retort, but his stuttering tongue made this take so long that he came near losing his life, though at last he got in safely.

Mrs. Heald recalls a particular case where a soldier, a great stammerer, was out on picket, and from the block-house window she saw an Indian try to get between him and the fort. To attract the soldier's attention Captain Heald had a gun fired, and the man, when he saw his peril, started homeward, the Indian at the same time starting to cut him off. The soldier was the best runner, and when the Indian called out to him some taunting expression, he looked over his shoulder and tried to shout a retort, but his stuttering tongue made this take so long that he came near losing his life, though at last he got in safely.

In writing the story of the events of that eventful time, there being but two sources of information—to some extent divergent, even contradictory—one is tempted to print them in parallel columns and let the reader take his choice. Each has the same degree of authenticity, seeing that Mrs. Helm, an actor in the tragedy, told Mrs. Kinzie the story, who gives it to us; while Mrs. Heald, also an actor (and besides, a badly wounded sufferer), told it often to her son, the Hon. Darius Heald, who gives it to us. But as the parallel columns might prove more controversial than interesting, the plan I have pursued isthe presenting of undisputed facts, and, in case of controversy, the account which seems most probable, with the adverse side when necessary.

NOTE.

The Heald story is now for the first time made a part of permanent history. In 1891, while writing the "Story of Chicago," I learned that Darius Heald, son of Nathan and Rebekah [Wells] Heald, was still living; whereupon I got him to come to Chicago from his home in Missouri, bringing all the relics and mementoes of his parents which he could find. He came, and sat for a portrait with the relics by his side, and his entire story was taken down in short-hand from his own lips. The little which was available is included in my "Story of Chicago," and the remainder I caused to be published in the Magazine of American History. (SeeAppendix E.)

GEORGE THIRD.

A LONG FAREWELL.

THE departure was not approved by all, if any, of the subordinate officers. It was urged on Capt. Heald that the command would be attacked; that the attack would have been made long before if it had not been for the Indians' regard for the Kinzies; that the helplessness of the women and children and the invalided and superannuated soldiers was sure to make the march slow and perilous, and that the place could well be defended. Captain Heald pleaded his orders, and alleged that the place was not provisioned to stand a siege.

Upon one occasion, as Captain Heald was conversing with Mr. Kinzie on the parade, he remarked: "I could not remain, even if I thought best, for I have but a small store of provisions." "Why, captain," said a soldier who stood near by, forgetting all etiquette, "you have cattle enough to last the troops six months." "But I have no salt to preserve it with." "Then jerk it," said the man, "as the Indians do their venison."[AA](Wau-Bun.)

[AA]This is done by cutting the meat in thin slices and placing it on a scaffold over a fire, which dries the meat and smokes it at the same time.

Captain Heald, in his letter of November 7th, 1812 (less than three months after the massacre), says of the Indians: "The neighboring Indians got the information as early as I did, and came in from all quarters in order to receive the goods in the factory store, which they understood were to be given them. The collection was unusually large for that place, but they conducted with the strictest propriety until after I left the fort." But Wau-Bun gives a different coloring to the matter, and with such circumstantiality that there seems necessarily to be some truth on the other side. Mrs. Kinzie says that there was dissatisfaction in the garrison amounting to insubordination (as instanced by the soldier's interference in the captain's talk with Mr. Kinzie) and increasing insolence on the part of the Indians. The story runs:

SQUAW.

Entering the fort in defiance of the sentinels, they made their way without ceremony to the officers' quarters. On one occasion an Indian took up a rifle and fired it in the parlor of the commanding officer, as an expression of defiance. Some were of the opinion that this was intended among the young men as a signal for an attack. The old chiefs passed backwards and forwards among the assembled groups with the appearance of the most lively agitation, while the squaws rushed to and fro in great excitement and evidently prepared for some fearful scene. (Wau-Bun.)

(As might be expected, the squaws often showed themselves the most bitter, cruel and relentless partisans.)

The feeling will intrude itself that Captain Heald was too truthful, trustful, brave and good a man to be a perfect Indian-fighter. He had none of the savage's traits except his courage. He was without guile, or craft, or duplicity or cruelty. The soul of honor, he attributed good faith to his foe. A temperate man, he could not conceive of the insanity of maniacs to whom the transient delirium of drunkenness is heaven on earth.

We must remember that there is always a hard feeling between the military and the civil authority in every Indian post—East Indian or American Indian—the soldier holding the sword and the civilian the purse, each slightly envying the other what he possesses, and slightly despising him for the lack of what he is deprived of.

At any rate. Captain Heald (by and with the advice of Mr. Kinzie) concluded not to give the whisky and arms to the savages. He did what any of us, common-sense, reasonable men, ignorant of the worst traits of the most cruel of races, might have done. He doubtless reasoned thus:

"I will destroy the means of frenzy and the implements of murder; then I will win the grateful allegiance of the Indian by magnificent gifts; stores that will make him rich beyond his wildest dream of comfort and abundance. Then I will throw myself and these defenceless ones on his protection."

Alas, he did not know with whom he was dealing! What is food and clothing to a devil demanding drink and gunpowder? He got only insolence in return for what he gave them, and loud curses for what he withheld. At the same time Mr. Kinzie could plainly see that if his whisky was destroyed by the government he might be reimbursed for it, while if it was left to the Indians the loss would be absolute and total.

Captain Heald held a council with the Indians on the afternoon of Wednesday, August 12, his juniors (according to Wau-Bun) declining his request to accompany him on the ground that they had secret information that the officers were to be massacred while in council; so he and Mr. Kinzie (interpreter) went boldly forth alone. When the two had walked out, the others opened the port-holes in the block-houses and trained the guns so as to command the assembly. No attack took place, and Captain Heald then promised the Indians a distribution of the goods—whether with or without any express reservations we do not know. The Indians, on their part, promised to escort the train in safety. (This would indicate that the promise was made to one tribe, the Pottowatomies, and that opposition might be looked for from another, probably the Winnebagoes.)

After the council, Mr. Kinzie had a long talk with Captain Heald, whereat it was agreed that all surplus arms, ammunition and liquor should not be distributed, but destroyed. This is Mrs. Kinzie's own account, and seems to set at rest the charge of bad faith (in not distributing all the goods) which has been made by Heald decryers and Indian apologists.

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