The Americans, after the first attack by the Indians, charged upon those who had concealed themselves in a sort of ravine intervening between the sand-banks and the prairie. The latter gathered themselves into a body, and after some hard fighting, in which the number of whites had become reduced to twenty-eight, this little band succeeded in breaking through the enemy and gaining a rising ground not far from the oak woods.The contest now seemed hopeless, and Lieutenant Helm sent Peresh Leclerc, a half-breed boy in the service of Mr. Kinzie, who had accompanied the detachment and fought manfully on their side, to propose terms of capitulation. It was stipulated that the lives of all the survivors should be spared and a ransom permitted as soon as practicable.
The Americans, after the first attack by the Indians, charged upon those who had concealed themselves in a sort of ravine intervening between the sand-banks and the prairie. The latter gathered themselves into a body, and after some hard fighting, in which the number of whites had become reduced to twenty-eight, this little band succeeded in breaking through the enemy and gaining a rising ground not far from the oak woods.
The contest now seemed hopeless, and Lieutenant Helm sent Peresh Leclerc, a half-breed boy in the service of Mr. Kinzie, who had accompanied the detachment and fought manfully on their side, to propose terms of capitulation. It was stipulated that the lives of all the survivors should be spared and a ransom permitted as soon as practicable.
Lieutenant Helm made the terms of capitulation? How could that be while Captain Heald was present? And what is to be done with Captain Heald's statement of October 7, 1812, less than three months after the event? It reads as follows: "The Indians did not follow me but assembled in a body on the top of the bank, and, after some consultation among themselves, made signsfor me to approach them. I advanced toward them alone and was met by one of the Pottowatomie chief called Black Bird, with an interpreter."
The reader will of course choose between the two statements according to his judgement of probabilities and internal evidence of truthfulness. Captain Heald certainly cast no slur on Lieutenant Helm, and appears not even to have entered into the bitterness of feeling against himself and his unhappy surgeon, which seems to have gone on rankling through all the twenty years that elapsed between the direful day and the telling of the story by Mrs. Helm to Mrs. Kinzie.
Mrs. Helm's expression, "Peresh Leclerc, a half-breed boy in the service of Mr. Kinzie who had accompanied the detachment and fought manfully on their side," leaves a possible ambiguity as to whether it is the boy or his master who fought manfully on the side of the whites.
Next follows one of the most noteworthy parts of all Mrs. Helm's narrative, the few words which depict the act of ferocity by which the occasion has been given much of its picturesque and terrible individuality:
But in the meantime, a horrible scene had been enacted. One young savage, climbing into the baggage-wagon containing the children of the white families, twelve in number, tomahawked the children of the entire group.[H]
But in the meantime, a horrible scene had been enacted. One young savage, climbing into the baggage-wagon containing the children of the white families, twelve in number, tomahawked the children of the entire group.[H]
[H]SeeAppendix Gfor the story of one of the scalped children.
[H]SeeAppendix Gfor the story of one of the scalped children.
This harrowing tale is strongly confirmed by Captain Heald's estimate of losses as given in his letter of Oct. seventh (already quoted), which he states as follows: "Our strength was about fifty-four regulars and twelve militia, out of which twenty-six regulars and twelve militia were killed in action, with two women and twelve children. Ensign George Ronan and Dr. Isaac V. Van Vorhees, of my company, with Captain Wells of Fort Wayne, to my great sorrow are numbered among the dead. LieutenantLinai T. Helm, with twenty-five non-commissioned officers and privates, and eleven women and children, were prisoners when we separated."
The next part of Mrs. Helm's narrative is remarkably at variance with the stern, true-seeming and circumstantial account of Captain Wells' death given by Mrs. Heald. Mrs Helm says (following the statement of the slaughter of the innocents):
This was during the engagement near the sand-hills. When Captain Wells, who was fighting near, beheld it, he exclaimed, "Is that your game, butchering women and children? Then I will kill too!" So saying, he turned his horse's head and started for the Indian camp near the fort, where had been left their squaws and children. Several Indians pursued him as he galloped along. He laid himself flat on the neck of his horse, loading and firing in that position as he would occasionally turn on his pursuers. At length their balls took effect, killing his horse and severely wounding himself At this moment he was met by Winnemeg and Wau-ban-see who endeavored to save him from the savages who had now overtaken him. As they supported him along, after having disengaged him from his horse, he received his death blow from another Indian, Pee-so-tum, who stabbed him in the back.
This was during the engagement near the sand-hills. When Captain Wells, who was fighting near, beheld it, he exclaimed, "Is that your game, butchering women and children? Then I will kill too!" So saying, he turned his horse's head and started for the Indian camp near the fort, where had been left their squaws and children. Several Indians pursued him as he galloped along. He laid himself flat on the neck of his horse, loading and firing in that position as he would occasionally turn on his pursuers. At length their balls took effect, killing his horse and severely wounding himself At this moment he was met by Winnemeg and Wau-ban-see who endeavored to save him from the savages who had now overtaken him. As they supported him along, after having disengaged him from his horse, he received his death blow from another Indian, Pee-so-tum, who stabbed him in the back.
When we observe the incongruities of this tale (not to speak of its contradiction by Mrs. Heald's report) such as the witnessing by Captain Wells of the wagon slaughter (at a time when we know he was far away inland, fighting at the head of the troops); of his alleged dastardly flight from the field toward the Indian camp a mile-and-a-half away, with the avowed intention of killing the squaws and pappooses; his being overtaken on horseback by pursuing enemies on foot; his being held up by two Indians while a third stabbed him in the back, the third being the very one who helped Mrs. Helm to reach the fort; we are only glad to remember that the narrator did not mean to have us understand that she witnessed the occurrences she relates. Internal evidence leads us to suspect that the story came to her from the lips oflying Indians, eager to magnify to Mr. Kinzie their deeds of valor and of kindness, and perhaps justify their treatment of poor Wells, alive and dead. Pee-so-tum may have killed and scalped Wells, but it surely was not under such circumstances as those above set forth. Not even the best friends of the Indian claim for him any appreciation of the virtue of mere veracity. Personal faithfulness of the most touching character he often showed. Even the keeping of promises, often at the cost of great personal sacrifice, has been known as a striking and admirable trait. But "truth for truth's sake" is beyond him—as it is, indeed, beyond the great mass of mankind.
The Wau-Bun story of the experiences of the Kinzie family bears evidences of authenticity and reasonable accuracy, as might be expected from the fact that Mrs. John H. Kinzie probably got it directly from her husband's mother, Mrs. John Kinzie, who was alive at the time when it was first written.
Those of the family of Mr. Kinzie who had remained in the boat near the mouth of the river were carefully guarded by Kee-po-tah and another Indian. They had seen the smoke, then the blaze, and, immediately after, the report of the tremendous discharge sounded in their ears. Then all was confusion. They realized nothing until they saw an Indian come towards them from the battle-ground leading a horse on which sat a lady, apparently wounded."That is Mrs. Heald," cried Mrs. Kinzie. "That Indian will kill her. Run Chandonnais," to one of Mr. Kinzie's clerks, "Take the mule that is tied there and offer it to him to release her."Her captor by this time was in the act of disengaging her bonnet from her head in order to scalp her. Chandonnais ran up, offered the mule as a ransom, with the promise of two bottles of whisky as soon as they should reach his village. The latter was a strong temptation. "But," said the Indian, "She is badly wounded—she will die—will you give me the whisky at all events?" Chandonnais promised he would, and the bargain was concluded. The savage placed the lady's bonnet on his own head and after an ineffectualeffort on the part of some squaws to rob her of her shoes and stockings, she was brought on board the boat, where she lay moaning with pain from the many wounds she had received in both arms.
Those of the family of Mr. Kinzie who had remained in the boat near the mouth of the river were carefully guarded by Kee-po-tah and another Indian. They had seen the smoke, then the blaze, and, immediately after, the report of the tremendous discharge sounded in their ears. Then all was confusion. They realized nothing until they saw an Indian come towards them from the battle-ground leading a horse on which sat a lady, apparently wounded.
"That is Mrs. Heald," cried Mrs. Kinzie. "That Indian will kill her. Run Chandonnais," to one of Mr. Kinzie's clerks, "Take the mule that is tied there and offer it to him to release her."
Her captor by this time was in the act of disengaging her bonnet from her head in order to scalp her. Chandonnais ran up, offered the mule as a ransom, with the promise of two bottles of whisky as soon as they should reach his village. The latter was a strong temptation. "But," said the Indian, "She is badly wounded—she will die—will you give me the whisky at all events?" Chandonnais promised he would, and the bargain was concluded. The savage placed the lady's bonnet on his own head and after an ineffectualeffort on the part of some squaws to rob her of her shoes and stockings, she was brought on board the boat, where she lay moaning with pain from the many wounds she had received in both arms.
In this narrative the Indian bargains that he shall have his booty whether the prisoners live or die. This stipulation indicates the savage's view of the value of a prisoner. If likely to live, and therefore exchangeable for ransom, then his life might be spared; if not, then he belonged to his captor and could be used for the keen delight of torture. This is probably the idea which inspired the hellish notion of the exclusion of the wounded from Captain Heald's capitulation. For the unhurt they could get ransom, therefore they would spare their lives. But the wounded! Why spare them? They are not merchantable. Nobody will give anything for a dead man. The dying are available for only one profit—torture.
When the boat was at length permitted to return to the mansion of Mr. Kinzie, and Mrs. Heald was removed to the house, it became necessary to dress her wounds. Mr. K. applied to an old chief who stood by, and who, like most of his tribe, possessed some skill in surgery, to extract a ball from the arm of the sufferer. "No, father," he replied, "I cannot do it; it makes me sick here," laying his hand on his heart. Mr. Kinzie then performed the operation himself with his penknife.
When the boat was at length permitted to return to the mansion of Mr. Kinzie, and Mrs. Heald was removed to the house, it became necessary to dress her wounds. Mr. K. applied to an old chief who stood by, and who, like most of his tribe, possessed some skill in surgery, to extract a ball from the arm of the sufferer. "No, father," he replied, "I cannot do it; it makes me sick here," laying his hand on his heart. Mr. Kinzie then performed the operation himself with his penknife.
The discrepancy observable between this account and that of Mrs. Heald herself, which says that on that night she was cared for by squaws in the Indian encampment, may be explained away by supposing that it was on the following day, after the Kinzies had got back to their home on the north bank, that Mrs. Kinzie caught sight of her friend and sent Chandonnais to her rescue in one of the boats they always used for passing and repassing the river, at about where Rush Street bridge now stands. The fact that no mule could well have been tied where the boat lay offshore, near the river's mouth, makes this seem the probable explanation of the incongruity.
At their own mansion the family of Mr. Kinzie were closely guarded by their Indian friends, whose intention it was to carry them to Detroit for security. The rest of the prisoners remained at the wigwams of their captors.
Mrs. Helm, Mr. Kinzie's step-daughter, must have been among those once more housed at the historic building of squared logs built about 1776, by Pointe de Saible. This house was still standing when the village had become, in name at least, a city, which it did in 1837. Mr. Kinzie had planted along its front four poplar trees, and they appear in the early pictures of Chicago. Doubtless, if one were to dig in the open space on the east side of Pine Street, at its junction with Kinzie street, the old roots would be found to this day (1893), and there are probably a hundred living Chicagoans who remember having seen the house itself.
The following morning, the work of plunder having been completed, the Indians set fire to the fort. A very fair, equitable distribution of the finery appeared to have been made, and shawls, ribbons and feathers fluttered about in all directions. The ludicrous appearance of one young fellow, who had arrayed himself in a muslin gown and the bonnet of one of the ladies, would, under other circumstances, have afforded matter of amusement.Black Partridge, Wan-ban-see and Kee-po-tah, with two other Indians, having established themselves in the porch of the building as sentinels, to protect the family from any evil the young men might be excited to commit, all remained tranquil for a short space after the conflagration. Very soon, however, a party of Indians from the Wabash made their appearance. These were, decidedly, the most hostile and implacable of all the tribes of the Pottowatomies. Being more remote, they had shared less than some of their brethren in the kindness of Mr. Kinzie and his family, and consequently their sentiments of regard for them were less powerful.
The following morning, the work of plunder having been completed, the Indians set fire to the fort. A very fair, equitable distribution of the finery appeared to have been made, and shawls, ribbons and feathers fluttered about in all directions. The ludicrous appearance of one young fellow, who had arrayed himself in a muslin gown and the bonnet of one of the ladies, would, under other circumstances, have afforded matter of amusement.
Black Partridge, Wan-ban-see and Kee-po-tah, with two other Indians, having established themselves in the porch of the building as sentinels, to protect the family from any evil the young men might be excited to commit, all remained tranquil for a short space after the conflagration. Very soon, however, a party of Indians from the Wabash made their appearance. These were, decidedly, the most hostile and implacable of all the tribes of the Pottowatomies. Being more remote, they had shared less than some of their brethren in the kindness of Mr. Kinzie and his family, and consequently their sentiments of regard for them were less powerful.
The Wabash Indians must have been smarting with the terrible defeat inflicted on them only about one year before, when General Harrison, whose confidential agent poor Wells had been, fought them at Tippecanoe, on the banks of the Wabash River.
Runners had been sent to the villages to apprise them of the intended evacuation of the post, as well as of the plans of the Indians assembled to attack the troops. Thirsting to participate in such a scene, they hurried on, and great was their mortification on arriving at the Aux Plaines [Des Plaines River] to meet with a party of their friends bearing with them Nee-scot-nee-meg badly wounded, and to learn that the battle was over, the spoils divided and the scalps all taken. On arriving at Chicago they blackened their faces and proceeded toward the dwelling of Mr. Kinzie.From his station on the piazza, Black Partridge had watched their approach, and his fears were particularly awakened for the safety of Mrs. Helm (Mr. Kinzie's step-daughter), who had recently come to the post and was personally unknown to the more remote Indians.[I]By his advice she was made to assume the ordinary dress of a French woman of the country; namely, a short gown and petticoat, with a blue cotton handkerchief wrapped around her head. In this disguise she was conducted by Black Partridge himself to the house of Ouilmette, a Frenchman with a half-breed wife, who formed part of the establishment of Mr. Kinzie, and whose dwelling was close at hand. It so happened that the Indians came first to this house in their search for prisoners. As they approached, the inmates, fearful that the fair complexion and general appearance of Mrs. Helm might betray her for an American, raised a large featherbed and placed her under the edge of it, upon the bedstead, with her face to the wall. Mrs. Bisson, the sister of Ouilmette's wife, then seated herself with her sewing on the edge of the bed. It was a hot day in August, and the feverish excitement of fear and agitation, together with her position, which was nearly suffocating, became so intolerable that at length Mrs. Helm entreated to be released and given up to the Indians.
Runners had been sent to the villages to apprise them of the intended evacuation of the post, as well as of the plans of the Indians assembled to attack the troops. Thirsting to participate in such a scene, they hurried on, and great was their mortification on arriving at the Aux Plaines [Des Plaines River] to meet with a party of their friends bearing with them Nee-scot-nee-meg badly wounded, and to learn that the battle was over, the spoils divided and the scalps all taken. On arriving at Chicago they blackened their faces and proceeded toward the dwelling of Mr. Kinzie.
From his station on the piazza, Black Partridge had watched their approach, and his fears were particularly awakened for the safety of Mrs. Helm (Mr. Kinzie's step-daughter), who had recently come to the post and was personally unknown to the more remote Indians.[I]By his advice she was made to assume the ordinary dress of a French woman of the country; namely, a short gown and petticoat, with a blue cotton handkerchief wrapped around her head. In this disguise she was conducted by Black Partridge himself to the house of Ouilmette, a Frenchman with a half-breed wife, who formed part of the establishment of Mr. Kinzie, and whose dwelling was close at hand. It so happened that the Indians came first to this house in their search for prisoners. As they approached, the inmates, fearful that the fair complexion and general appearance of Mrs. Helm might betray her for an American, raised a large featherbed and placed her under the edge of it, upon the bedstead, with her face to the wall. Mrs. Bisson, the sister of Ouilmette's wife, then seated herself with her sewing on the edge of the bed. It was a hot day in August, and the feverish excitement of fear and agitation, together with her position, which was nearly suffocating, became so intolerable that at length Mrs. Helm entreated to be released and given up to the Indians.
[I]Although this, as well as the earlier part of the account (where Mrs. Helm speaks in the first person) appears in Wau-Bun in continuous quotation marks, it is manifest that the whole later portion is a separate recital. Several interesting anecdotes are given in detail, but for them the reader must look to the delightful original volume which, though not in the market, can be found in the Chicago Historical Society's collection, and also in many private libraries, especially among those Chicagoans who were not burned out in the great fire of 1871. It is to be hoped that some of Mrs. Kinzie's descendants will cause a new edition to be published for the benefit of later comers, who will look to it for amusement (and also instruction) concerning times and scenes so unlike those now around them as to seem to have happened on another planet, instead of on the very soil they tread. (Munsell's Hist. Chic.)The words used imply that the step-daughter had not habitually formed part of the family of John Kinzie at Chicago.
[I]Although this, as well as the earlier part of the account (where Mrs. Helm speaks in the first person) appears in Wau-Bun in continuous quotation marks, it is manifest that the whole later portion is a separate recital. Several interesting anecdotes are given in detail, but for them the reader must look to the delightful original volume which, though not in the market, can be found in the Chicago Historical Society's collection, and also in many private libraries, especially among those Chicagoans who were not burned out in the great fire of 1871. It is to be hoped that some of Mrs. Kinzie's descendants will cause a new edition to be published for the benefit of later comers, who will look to it for amusement (and also instruction) concerning times and scenes so unlike those now around them as to seem to have happened on another planet, instead of on the very soil they tread. (Munsell's Hist. Chic.)
The words used imply that the step-daughter had not habitually formed part of the family of John Kinzie at Chicago.
"I can but die," said she; "let them put an end to my misery at once."Mrs. Bisson replied: "Your death would be the destruction of us all, for Black Partridge has resolved that if one drop of the blood of your family is spilled, he will take the lives of all concerned in it, even his nearest friends; and if once the work of murder commences there will be no end of it so long as there remains one white person or half-breed in the country."This expostulation nerved Mrs. Helm with fresh resolution. The Indians entered, and she could occasionally see them from her hiding-place, gliding about, stealthily inspecting every part of the room, though without making any ostensible search, until, apparently satisfied that there was no one concealed, they left the house.All this time Mrs. Bisson had kept her scat upon the side of the bed, calmly basting and arranging the patchwork of the quilt on which she was engaged, and preserving the appearance of the utmost tranquility, although she knew not but that the next moment she might receive a tomahawk in her brain. Her self command unquestionably saved the lives of all present.From Ouilmette's house the party of Indians proceeded to the dwelling of Mr. Kinzie. They entered the parlor, in which the family were assembled with their faithful protectors, and seated themselves upon the floor in silence.Black Partridge perceived, from their moody and revengeful looks, what was passing in their minds, but he dared not remonstrate with them. He only observed, in a low tone, to Wau-ban-see:"We have endeavored to save our friends, but it is vain; nothing will save them now."At this moment a friendly whoop was heard from a party of new-comers on the opposite bank of the river. Black Partridge hastened to meet their leader, as the canoe in which they had hastily embarked touched the bank near the house."Who are you?" demanded he."A man; who areyou?""A man like yourself; but tell mewhoyou are"—meaning, "tell me your disposition, and which side you are for.""I am the Sau-ga-nash.""Then make all speed to the house; your friend is in danger and you alone can save him."
"I can but die," said she; "let them put an end to my misery at once."
Mrs. Bisson replied: "Your death would be the destruction of us all, for Black Partridge has resolved that if one drop of the blood of your family is spilled, he will take the lives of all concerned in it, even his nearest friends; and if once the work of murder commences there will be no end of it so long as there remains one white person or half-breed in the country."
This expostulation nerved Mrs. Helm with fresh resolution. The Indians entered, and she could occasionally see them from her hiding-place, gliding about, stealthily inspecting every part of the room, though without making any ostensible search, until, apparently satisfied that there was no one concealed, they left the house.
All this time Mrs. Bisson had kept her scat upon the side of the bed, calmly basting and arranging the patchwork of the quilt on which she was engaged, and preserving the appearance of the utmost tranquility, although she knew not but that the next moment she might receive a tomahawk in her brain. Her self command unquestionably saved the lives of all present.
From Ouilmette's house the party of Indians proceeded to the dwelling of Mr. Kinzie. They entered the parlor, in which the family were assembled with their faithful protectors, and seated themselves upon the floor in silence.
Black Partridge perceived, from their moody and revengeful looks, what was passing in their minds, but he dared not remonstrate with them. He only observed, in a low tone, to Wau-ban-see:
"We have endeavored to save our friends, but it is vain; nothing will save them now."
At this moment a friendly whoop was heard from a party of new-comers on the opposite bank of the river. Black Partridge hastened to meet their leader, as the canoe in which they had hastily embarked touched the bank near the house.
"Who are you?" demanded he.
"A man; who areyou?"
"A man like yourself; but tell mewhoyou are"—meaning, "tell me your disposition, and which side you are for."
"I am the Sau-ga-nash."
"Then make all speed to the house; your friend is in danger and you alone can save him."
Billy Caldwell, the "Sau-ga-nash," or Englishman, was son of Colonel Caldwell, a British officer stationed atDetroit, his mother being a beautiful Pottowatomie girl. He was educated by his father, though serving his mother's race as a chief of the Pottowatomies. (There were always many "chiefs.") He fought under Tecumseh against the whites under Wayne—"Mad Anthony," as he was often called, "Old Tempest," as Caldwell himself calls him[J]—also at the Battle of the Thames, in 1813, when Harrison fought and defeated the combined forces of British and Indians, and the famous chief, Tecumseh, was killed. He took part in the treaty of Greenville, in 1796, and that of Chicago, in 1833; a long space of historic time, covering a racial struggle of many thrilling incidents, not a thousandth part of which can ever see the light. They are buried in blood, smoke, flame and darkness. At this time, it will be observed, Caldwell was an ally of the English.
[J]SeeAppendix H.
[J]SeeAppendix H.
Billy Caldwell, for it was he, entered the parlor with a calm step, and without a trace of agitation in his manner. He deliberately took off his accoutrements and planed them, with his rifle, behind the door, and then saluted the hostile savages."How now, my friends? A good day to you! I was told there were enemies here, but I am glad to find only friends. Why have you blackened your faces? Is it that you are mourning for those friends you have lost in battle?" (purposely misunderstanding this token of evil designs) "or is it that you are fasting? If so, ask our friend here, and he will give you to eat. He is the Indians' friend, and never yet refused them what they had need of."Thus taken by surprise, the savages were ashamed to acknowledge their bloody purpose. They therefore said modestly that they came to beg of their friends some white cotton in which to wrap their dead before interring them. This was given to them, with some other presents, and they took their departure peaceably from the premises.
Billy Caldwell, for it was he, entered the parlor with a calm step, and without a trace of agitation in his manner. He deliberately took off his accoutrements and planed them, with his rifle, behind the door, and then saluted the hostile savages.
"How now, my friends? A good day to you! I was told there were enemies here, but I am glad to find only friends. Why have you blackened your faces? Is it that you are mourning for those friends you have lost in battle?" (purposely misunderstanding this token of evil designs) "or is it that you are fasting? If so, ask our friend here, and he will give you to eat. He is the Indians' friend, and never yet refused them what they had need of."
Thus taken by surprise, the savages were ashamed to acknowledge their bloody purpose. They therefore said modestly that they came to beg of their friends some white cotton in which to wrap their dead before interring them. This was given to them, with some other presents, and they took their departure peaceably from the premises.
The remainder of both the Wau-Bun and Heald narratives is devoted to the flight from Chicago and the later fate of the fugitives. Before closing this part of my story, I will give the following bit coming from another source.
Near the (present) north end of State Street bridge stood a log house known to history and tradition as "Cobweb Castle;" a name probably given to it after the rebuilding of the fort in 1816, and after it had become superannuated and superseded. Mrs. Callis, daughter of Mr. Jouett, who came here with him about 1817, says of it: "The house in which my father lived, was built before the massacre of 1812; I know this from the fact that 'White Elk,' an Indian chief, the tallest Indian I ever saw, was frequently pointed out to me as the savage who had dashed out the brains of the children of Sukey Corbin (a camp-follower and washerwoman) against the side of this very house. Mrs. Jouett told her daughter of a frantic mother (perhaps the same Mrs. Corbin), a former acquaintance of hers, who, on that occasion fought the monster all the while the butchery was going on, and who, in her turn, fell a victim herself."
This would indicate that some of the citizens (beside the Kinzies, Healds and Helms) got back to the settlement after the collision at the sand-hills, and that they found at their old homes no sanctuary, no rest, no mercy, no hope.
It is to be observed that, as the Jouetts were not on the spot at the time of the massacre, this part of the story has not the degree of authenticity attaching to the reports of the Healds and Helms. The treaty of 1817 gives, among the Pottowatomie signers, the Indian name of "the White Elk" as "Wa-bin-she-way."
Everything connected with the massacre itself, so far as existing testimony has come to light, has now been told. There is a possibility that one other document may be hidden away; an account written by Lieutenant Helm. But this, if ever found, will necessarily be identical,in all important particulars with the story told by his widow and printed in Wan Bun.[K]
[K]Lieutenant (then Captain) Helm is said to have died at or near Bath, Steuben Co., N. Y., about 1817. His widow married, at St. James church, Chicago, in 1836, Dr. Lucius Abbott, of Detroit. Therefore any papers left by the Helms should be sought for in the last named city.Edward G. Mason tells me that there is, or was, among the papers of the Detroit Historical Society, a letter from Lieutenant Helm to Augustus B. Woodward, Esq., at Washington City, in which the writer says that he has nearly completed the history of the Chicago massacre, and that he (Woodward) may expect it in two weeks. The letter was dated Flemington, New Jersey, June 6, 1814. Mr. Mason thinks the letter intimates that the publication of the history may subject the writer to court-martial. Possibly this note may bring to light the lost history in question; a thing much to be desired.
[K]Lieutenant (then Captain) Helm is said to have died at or near Bath, Steuben Co., N. Y., about 1817. His widow married, at St. James church, Chicago, in 1836, Dr. Lucius Abbott, of Detroit. Therefore any papers left by the Helms should be sought for in the last named city.
Edward G. Mason tells me that there is, or was, among the papers of the Detroit Historical Society, a letter from Lieutenant Helm to Augustus B. Woodward, Esq., at Washington City, in which the writer says that he has nearly completed the history of the Chicago massacre, and that he (Woodward) may expect it in two weeks. The letter was dated Flemington, New Jersey, June 6, 1814. Mr. Mason thinks the letter intimates that the publication of the history may subject the writer to court-martial. Possibly this note may bring to light the lost history in question; a thing much to be desired.
The day which dawned so bright has dragged through its bloody hours and come to its dark and hideous close. The dead, men, women and children, are at peace. The wounded are suffering the torments of the pit, the rest are shuddering in the uncertainties that lie before them. The Indians are riotously happy; for have they not done harm? Have they not killed, scalped, destroyed, wasted, life and property? Have they not annihilated the source whence they had been getting arms, ammunition and blankets, and driven off the men who tried to keep whisky from them? Have they not made a solitude and called it war? The goods are scattered. The fort is burned. The cattle are dead or dying. The soldiers are defeated, slain or held as prisoners, for ransom if unhurt, for torture if disabled. The babes are brained and their mothers dead or desolate. What more "happy hunting ground" is possible to them this side of hades itself?
In "Wau-Bun," one seems to hear them telling of their individual good deeds and attributing all evil deeds to each other. For the Indian's hand was against every man, even all other Indians. Their bloodiest wars have been between themselves; wars of absolute extermination for the beaten party Every tribe held its lands byconquest and by force. Even if we had taken them by the sword, without compensation (which we never did), they would only have lost their holdings by the selfsame means by which they had gained them.
Well is it for the kindlier folk that the cruel did not stick together. If they had done so, we should be a hundred years in time and a thousand miles in space further back in our territorial progress. But they could not combine. "You might as well try to boil flints into a pudding."
It still remains to me to trace, so far as it is not shrouded in oblivion, the fate of the survivors. But as this leads some distance into the future, I have thought best to treat the matter separately; prefacing the story of what followed the tragedy by a short sketch of what preceded and led up to it. Why did those brave and hapless beings come here? How came they here? What brought their few and scattered footprints to the ground since then trodden by millions?
The following pages will try to answer these questions, beginning with the very earliest permanent settlement of what is now Chicago.
HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL
HOW CHICAGO BEGAN AND WHO WERE ITS BEGINNERS.
CHAPTER I.
THE DARK BEFORE THE DAWN.
EARLY JESUIT.
EARLY JESUIT.
RESOLUTELY, though unwillingly, I pass over the romantic history of the first century of Chicago's annals, the French period beginning about 1678, embracing the thrilling story of La Salle, Marquette and their brave fellow Catholics. Let us take up the tale when, in 1778, during the Revolutionary war; just as the great George Rogers Clark was capturing Indiana, Illinois and in fact the whole Northwest, from the English; one Colonel Arent Schuyler de Peyster (a New York officer of the British army, in command of Fort Mackinac) wrote some doggerel verses which bring Chicago into modern history and literature.[L]In one of his poems he speaks of "Eschikagou" and of Jean Baptiste Pointe de Saible who lived there, and in a footnote he describes the place as "a river and fort at the head of Lake Michigan," and the man as "a handsome negro, well educated, but much in the French interest."
[L]See appendix A. After the peace. Colonel de Peyster retired to Scotland and lived in or near Dumfries; and it is in his honor that Burns wrote his verses "To Colonel de Peyster," beginning"My honored Colonel, much I feelThy interest in the poet's weal."
[L]See appendix A. After the peace. Colonel de Peyster retired to Scotland and lived in or near Dumfries; and it is in his honor that Burns wrote his verses "To Colonel de Peyster," beginning
"My honored Colonel, much I feelThy interest in the poet's weal."
"My honored Colonel, much I feelThy interest in the poet's weal."
The fort spoken of by Colonel de Peyster, if it had any existence, must have been a mere stockaded trading-post, for neither by English nor by French forces had it been built, and as to American forces, there were none west of the Alleghanies except Clark with his few score of heroic frontiers-men. Fort Dearborn came twenty-six years later, as we shall see.
The word "Chicago" in some of its many forms of spelling[M]had been in recognized existence for a century, being found in the scanty and precious records left by Marquette, La Salle and their contemporaries, though they first call the stream the "Portage River."
[M]Hurlbut's "Antiquities" discusses the name with great and amusing particularity Here are some of the variations he gives in its spelling and its meaning. Chicagowunzh, the wild onion or leek; (Schoolcraft). Checaqua; a line of chiefs of the Tamaroa Indians, signifying strong. Chigaakwa, "the woods are thin." Checagou, Chicagou, Marquette and La Salle. Shikakok, "at the skunk." Chi-ka-go, wild onion. Chikagou, an Indian chief who went to Paris (before 1752) where the Duchess of Orleans, at Versailles, gave him a splendid snuff box. Chicagou, M. DeLigny in a letter to M. DeSiette. Checaqua, "the Thunder God." Chacaqua, "Divine River." Chicagua or Skunk river (in Iowa). Chicago, skunk, onion or smelling thing; (Gordon S. Hubbard). Chicagoua, equivalent of the Chippewa Jikag; "bête puante." Zhegahg, a skunk. Eschikagou; (Col. De Peyster). Portage de Chegakou. Chikajo. Chi-kaug-ong; (Schoolcraft). Chicazo, corruption of Chickasaw.
[M]Hurlbut's "Antiquities" discusses the name with great and amusing particularity Here are some of the variations he gives in its spelling and its meaning. Chicagowunzh, the wild onion or leek; (Schoolcraft). Checaqua; a line of chiefs of the Tamaroa Indians, signifying strong. Chigaakwa, "the woods are thin." Checagou, Chicagou, Marquette and La Salle. Shikakok, "at the skunk." Chi-ka-go, wild onion. Chikagou, an Indian chief who went to Paris (before 1752) where the Duchess of Orleans, at Versailles, gave him a splendid snuff box. Chicagou, M. DeLigny in a letter to M. DeSiette. Checaqua, "the Thunder God." Chacaqua, "Divine River." Chicagua or Skunk river (in Iowa). Chicago, skunk, onion or smelling thing; (Gordon S. Hubbard). Chicagoua, equivalent of the Chippewa Jikag; "bête puante." Zhegahg, a skunk. Eschikagou; (Col. De Peyster). Portage de Chegakou. Chikajo. Chi-kaug-ong; (Schoolcraft). Chicazo, corruption of Chickasaw.
Much discussion has arisen about the word and its meaning, but the preponderance of testimony seems to point to the conclusion that the river took its name from the wild onion, leek or garlick that grew in profusion along its banks in all this region, and is still to be found in many neglected spots of original soil. Bold Tonti, La Salle's faithful lieutenant, speaks of having been nourished during his long tramp from the Illinois River to Green Bay by a weed much like the leek of France, which they dug up with their fingers and ate as they walked—surely the chi-ca-gou.
LITTLE TURTLE—ME-CHE-KAN-NAH-QUAH.
LITTLE TURTLE—ME-CHE-KAN-NAH-QUAH.
The first official mention of the word "Chicago" was in the "Treaty of Greenville;" a compact made in 1795between the Indians and "Mad Anthony" Wayne, who had lately whipped them into a treaty-making frame of mind. This treaty placed the boundary line between the whites and the Indians east of the entire state of Indiana, but excepted and retained for trading posts several isolated sections west of the line, among them "one piece of land six miles square at the mouth of Chicago River, emptying into the southwestern end of Lake Michigan, where a fort formerly stood."
"Me-che-kan-nah-quah" or "Little Turtle," who took a prominent part in the making of the treaty, was the father-in-law of William Wells, the hero-martyr of the massacre, as has been set forth inPart I.
Baptiste Pointe de Saible, some time in the last century, built a log house on the north bank of the Chicago River, near Lake Michigan, just where Pine street now ends. This modest dwelling existed through vicissitudes many and terrible. When built, it stood in a vast solitude. North of it were thick woods which covered the whole of what is now Chicago's proud "North Side." In front of it lay the narrow, deep and sluggish creek which forms the main river; and, with its two long, straggling branches, gives the city its inestimable harbor,[N]withtwenty-seven miles of dock frontage. Beyond it, stretching indefinitely southward, lay the grassy flat now the "South Side," the business centre and wealthiest residence portion. Westward, beyond the north and south branches of the river, stretched the illimitable prairie, including what at the present time is the "West Side," the home of manufacturing enterprise and of a population larger than that of the two other portions put together. And to the eastward lay the lake; the only thing in nature which Jean Baptiste could recognize if he should now return to the scene of his long, lonely, half savage, half civilized sojourn.
[N]The city has, besides, another harbor along the Calumet lake and river, some ten miles to the southward, which, when fully improved, will exceed the first named in extent and value.
[N]The city has, besides, another harbor along the Calumet lake and river, some ten miles to the southward, which, when fully improved, will exceed the first named in extent and value.
From "Cyclopædia of United States History."—Copyright 1881, by Harper & Brothers.GENERAL ANTHONY WAYNE.
From "Cyclopædia of United States History."—Copyright 1881, by Harper & Brothers.GENERAL ANTHONY WAYNE.
Suppose him to have built his log dwelling in 1778, the very year when Colonel de Peyster luckily makes a note of his existence; all about him must have been a waste place so far as human occupation is concerned. Bands of roaming Indians from time to time appeared and disappeared. French trappers and voyageurs doubtless made his house their halting-place. Fur-traders' canoes, manned by French "voyageurs," "engages" and "coureurs des bois," paddling the great lakes and unconsciously laying the foundation of the Astor fortunes,called, from time to time, to buy the stores of peltry which he had collected, and leave him the whisky of which he was so fond, but the rest of his time was spent in patriarchal isolation and the society of his Indian wives and their half-breed offspring. So far as we know, scarcely a civilized habitation stood nearer than Green Bay on the north, the Vermilion branch of the Wabash on the south and the Mississippi on the west; a tract of nearly fifty thousand square miles.
Pointe de Saible's occupation ended about with the century, when he sold the cabin to one Le Mai. Before this time, however, other settlements had been begun nearer than those above mentioned; and even in the very neighborhood there were a few neighbors. One Guarie had settled on the west side of the North Branch; and Gurdon Hubbard (who came here in 1818) says that that stream was still called "River Guarie" and that he himself saw the remains of corn-hills on what must have been Guarie's farm. (The South Branch was called "Portage River" because it led to the Mud Lake connection with the Des Plaines and so onward to the Mississippi). Pointe de Saible, Le Mai and Guarie have died and left no sign, but there was another pioneer of pioneers in the beginning of the present century who was more lucky. He was Antoine Ouillemette, a Frenchman who took to wife a Pottowatomie squaw and thus obtained a grant of land on part of which the pretty suburb of Wilmette now stands. He did not die till 1829, six years before the final departure of the Pottowatomies for the further West.
WILLIAM WHISTLER.
WILLIAM WHISTLER.
The far-seeing plans which inspired our forefathers in making the treaty of Greenville took shape in 1804, when General Henry Dearborn, Secretary of War under President Jefferson, ordered the building of a fort[O]and a company of soldiers arrived to build it, having marched overland from Detroit under Lieutenant (afterward Colonel) James S. Swearingen. Their Captain, John Whistler, had led an eventful life. Hurlbut in his delightful "Chicago Antiquities" says he was "an officer in the army of the Revolution," and adds: "We regret that we have so few facts concerning his history; nor have we a portrait or signature of the patriot." In fact he did serve during the Revolutionary war, but it was on the British side in the army of General Burgoyne, being taken prisoner with the rest, and paroled; joining the American army later in life.[P]With Captain JohnWhistler came his son, Lieutenant William Whistler, the latter accompanied by his young wife (of her and her daughter we shall hear more hereafter), all of whom came around the lakes on the schooner Tracy. The passengers left the Tracy on arriving at St. Joseph's, Michigan, and came across the lake by a row-boat.When the schooner arrived she anchored outside and her freight was discharged by bateaux, as the river (which made a sharp turn southward just below where Rush Street Bridge now stands and debouched over a shallow bar at about the present foot of Madison Street) was not navigable for lake vessels at that time, or for thirty-one years afterward. Mrs. William Whistler said that some two thousand Indians visited the locality, during the schooner's stay, to see the "big canoe with wings."
[O]SeeAppendix B.
[O]SeeAppendix B.
[P]SeeAppendix C.
[P]SeeAppendix C.
MRS. WILLIAM WHISTLER.From a photograph taken during her visit to Chicago in 1875.
MRS. WILLIAM WHISTLER.From a photograph taken during her visit to Chicago in 1875.
We further learn from Mrs. Whistler that there were then in the place but four rude huts or trader's cabins, occupied by white men, Canadian French with Indian wives. She adds:
"Captain Whistler, upon his arrival, at once set about erecting a stockade and shelter for his protection, followed by getting out the sticks for the heavier work. It is worth mentioning here that there was not at that time, within hundreds of miles, a team of horses or oxen, and as a consequence, the soldiers had to don the harness and, with the aid of ropes, drag home the needed timbers."
This would indicate that the soldiers had made their long march from Detroit (two hundred and eighty miles) without wagons or pack animals to carry tents and rations; or, what is more probable, that the transportation had been hired, and the outfit had returned to Detroit.
Next steps upon the scene the true pioneer of the Chicago of to-day; John Kinzie.[Q]This first of citizens had learned of the proposed establishment of the military post. Fort Dearborn, and, foreseeing with his usual boldness and sagacity the advantages to spring from it, had come over from his residence on the St. Joseph's river, and bought from Le Mai the old Pointe de Saible log-cabin.Shortly after the establishment of the fort he brought his family to the place wherein the name of Kinzie has been always most distinguished. The family consisted of his wife, Eleanor (Lytle), widow of a British officer named McKillip, her young daughter Margaret, who afterward became Mrs. Lieutenant Helm, and an infant son, John Harris Kinzie. They occupied the old North Side log-house up to 1827—about twenty-five years—(except from 1812 to 1816, the years of desolation) and it stood for more than ten years longer; a landmark remembered by scores if not hundreds of the Chicagoans of this time (1893).
[Q]SeeAppendix D.
[Q]SeeAppendix D.
For much of our scanty knowledge concerning the years following the building of the fort we are indebted to Mrs. Julia (Ferson) Whistler, wife of William and therefore daughter-in-law of John, the old Burgoyne British regular.[R]
[R]SeeAppendix C.
[R]SeeAppendix C.
From 1804 to 1811, the characteristic traits of this far away corner of the earth were its isolation; the garrison within the stockade and the ever present hovering clouds of savages outside, half seen, half trusted, half feared; its long summers, (sometimes hot and sometimes hotter); and its long winters, (sometimes cold and sometimes colder); its plenitude of the mere necessaries of life, meat and drink, shelter and fuel, with utter destitution of all luxuries; its leisurely industry and humble prosperity; Kinzie, the kindly link between the red man and the white, vying with the regular government agent in the purchase of pelts and the sale of rude Indian goods. In 1805 Charles Jouett was the United States Indian Agent here. He was a Virginian, son of one of the survivors of Braddock's defeat. How much of his time was spent here and how much elsewhere we do notknow. In Mrs. John H. Kinzie's charming book "Wau-Bun" he is not even mentioned, which circumstance suggests that his relations with old John Kinzie were not cordial; a state of things to be expected, considering their relative positions. He was an educated man and must have enjoyed the friendship of Jefferson, Madison and Monroe, judging by his appointment as Government Agent, first at Detroit, later at Chicago (1804), which latter post he resigned in 1811, only to be reappointed in 1817.
CHARLES JOUETT.
CHARLES JOUETT.
It is probable that the United States agent was at a disadvantage in dealing with the Indians, as he would have to obey the law forbidding the supplying them with spirits; which law the other traders ignored. In Hurlbut's "Antiquities" a bit of "local color" gives with much vividness the condition of the prairie in those days.
"In the holidays of 1808-9 Mr. Jouett (then a widower) married Susan Randolph Allen of Kentucky, and they made their wedding journey on horseback in January, through the jungles, over the snow drifts, on the ice and across the prairies, in the face of driving storms and the frozen breath of the winds of the north. They had, on their journey, a negro servant named Joe Battles and an Indian guide whose name was Robinson; possiblythe late chief Alexander Robinson. A team and wagon followed, conveying their baggage, andthey marked their route for the benefit of any future travelers."
The government had tried to befriend the Indian in every way. It did not forbid private traders from dealing with him; but it appointed agents whose duty it was to sell him goods at prices barely sufficient to cover cost and expenses. At the same time it forbade, under penalty, the supplying him with liquor in any quantity, upon any pretext. Unhappily the last-named kindly effort thwarted the first. The miserable savage loved the venal white who would furnish him with the poison. For it he would give not only his furs, but his food and shelter, his wives and children, his body and his everlasting soul. As the grand old Baptist missionary Isaac McCoy says, regarding the treaty of 1821, at which he was present:
"At the treaty Topenebe, the principal chief of the Pottowatomies, a man nearly eighty years of age [a long and constant friend of the Kinzies], irritated by the continued refusal on the part of the commissioners to gratify his importunities for whisky, exclaimed in the presence of his tribe: 'We care not for the land, the money or the goods. It is whisky we want. Give us the whisky.' After the business of the treaty was concluded and before the Indians left the treaty grounds, seven barrels of whisky were given them, and within twenty-four hours afterward ten shocking murders were committed amongst them."
To quote from Munsell's History of Chicago: