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Mineralogy--Territorial affairs--Vindication of the American
policy by its treatment of the Indians--New York spirit of
improvement--Taste for cabinets of natural history--Fatalism in an
Indian--Death of a first born son--Flight from the
house--Territorial matters--A literary topic--Preparations for
another treaty--Consolations--Boundary in the North-west under the
treaty of Ghent--Natural history--Trip to Green Bay--Treaty of Butte
des Morts--Winnebago outbreak--Intrepid conduct of General
Cass--Indian stabbing--Investment of the petticoat--Mohegan
language.
1827. January 10th.--Mineralogy became a popular study in
the United States, I believe, about 1817 or thereabouts, when
Professor Cleveland published the first edition of his Elements
of Mineralogy, and Silliman began his Journal of Science.
It is true Bruce had published his Mineralogical Journal in
1814, but the science can, by no means, be said to have attracted
much, or general attention for several years. It was not till 1819
that Cleveland's work first came into my hands. The professor writes
me under this date, that he is about preparing a new edition of the
work, and he solicits the communication of new localities. This work
has been about ten years before the public. It was the first work on
that subject produced on this side of the Atlantic, and has acquired
great popularity as a text-book to classes and amateurs. It adopts a
classification on chemical principles; but recognizes the Wernerian
system of erecting species by external characters; and also Hany's
system of crystallography, so far as it extends, as being
coincident, in the respective proofs which these systems afford to
the chemical mode of pure analysis. As such it commends itself to
the common sense of observers.
20th. Territorial affairs now began more particularly to
attract my attention. Robert Irwin, Jr., Esq., M.C. of Detroit,
writes on territorial affairs, growing out of the organization of a
new county, on the St. Mary's, and in the basin of Lake Superior. I
had furnished him the choice of three names, Allegan, Algonac, and
Chippewa.
Major R.A. Forsyth, M.C., says (Jan. 22d), "the new county bill
passed on the last of December (1826). It is contemplated to tender
to you the appointment of first judge of the new county. We have
selected the name of 'Chippewa.'"
Mr. C.C. Trowbridge writes (25th) that "it is proposed in Congress
to lay off a new territory, embracing all Michigan west of the lake.
This territory, at first proposed to be called Huron, was eventually
named Wisconsin."
25th. Mr. Cass has examined, in an able article in the
North American Review, the policy of the American government in
its treatment of the Indians, in contrast with that of Great
Britain. In this article, the charges of the London Quarterly
are controverted, and a full vindication made of our policy and
treatment of these tribes, which must be gratifying to every lover
of our institutions, and our public sense of justice. As between
government and government, this paper is a powerful and triumphant
one. As a legal question it is not less so. The question of
political sovereignty is clear. Did our English Elizabeths, James',
and Charles', ever doubt their full right of sovereignty? The public
sense of justice and benevolence, the Republic, if not the parent
monarchy, fully recognized, by tracing to these tribes the fee of
the soil, and by punctually paying its value, as established by
public treaties, at all times.
26th. Mr. T.G. Anderson, of Drummond Island, transmits a
translation of the Lord's Prayer, in Odjibwa, which he requests to
be examined.
Feb. 5th. No State seems comparable, for its enterprise and
rapid improvements, to New York. Mr. E.B. Allen, who recently
removed from this remote village to Ogdensburgh, New York, expresses
his agreeable surprise, after seven years' absence in the West, at
the vast improvements that have been made in that State. "There is a
spirit of enterprise and energy, that is deeply interesting to men
of business and also men of science."
March 1st. Dr. Martyn Paine, of New York, proposes a system
of philosophic exchanges. The large and fine collection of
mineralogical and geological specimens which I brought from Missouri
and other parts of the Mississippi valley in 1819, appears to have
had an effect on the prevalent taste for these subjects, and at
least, it has fixed the eyes of naturalists on my position on the
frontiers. Cabinets of minerals have been in vogue for about nine or
ten years. Mr. Maclure, of Philadelphia, Colonel Gibbs, of New
Haven, and Drs. De Witt, Bruce and Mitchill, of New York, and above
Profs. Silliman and Cleveland, may be said to have originated the
taste. Before their day, minerals were regarded as mere "stones."
Now, it is rare to find a college or academy without, at least, the
nucleus of a cabinet. By transferring my collection here, I have
increased very much my own means of intellectual enjoyment and
resistance to the power of solitariness, if it has not been the
means of promoting discovery in others.
* * * * *
4th. Fatalism,--An Indian, called Wabishkipenace, The
White Bird, brings an express mail from the sub-agency of La
Pointe, in Lake Superior. This proved to be the individual who, in
1820, acted as one of the guides of the exploring expedition to the
Copper Rock, on the Ontonagon River. Trifles light as air arouse an
Indian's suspicions, and the circumstance of his being thus employed
by the government agents, was made use of by his fellows to his
prejudice. They told him that this act was displeasing to the Great
Spirit, who had visited him with his displeasure. Whatever influence
this idea had on others, on Wabishkipenace it seemed to tell. He
looked the image of despair. He wore his hair long, and was nearly
naked. He had a countenance of the most melancholy cast. Poverty
itself could not be poorer. Now, he appears to have taken courage,
and is willing once more to enter into the conflicts of life. But,
alas! what are these conflicts with an Indian? A mere struggle for
meat and bread enough to live.
13th. This is a day long to be remembered in my domestic
annals, as it carried to the tomb the gem of a once happy circle,
the cherished darling of it, in the person of a beloved, beautiful,
intellectually promising, and only son. William Henry had not yet
quite completed his third year, and yet such had been the impression
created by his manly precocity, his decision of character, perpetual
liveliness of temper and manners, and sweet and classic lineaments,
and attachable traits, that he appeared to have lived a long time.
The word time is, indeed, a relative term, and ever means
much or little, as much or little has been enjoyed or suffered. Our
enjoyment of him, and communion with him, was intimate. From the
earliest day of his existence, his intelligence and quick expressive
eye was remarkable, and all his waking hours were full of pleasing
innocent action and affectionate appreciation.
We took him to the city of New York during the winter of 1824-25,
where he made many friends and had many admirers. He was always
remembered by the youthful name of Willy and Penaci, or the
bird--a term that was playfully bestowed by the Chippewas while he
was still in his cradle. He was, indeed, a bird in our circle, for
the agility of his motions, the liveliness of his voice, and the
diamond sparkle of his full hazel eyes, reminded one of nothing so
much. The month of March was more than usually changeable in its
temperature, with disagreeable rains and much humidity, which nearly
carried away the heavy amount of snow on the ground. A cold and
croup rapidly developed themselves, and no efforts of skill or
kindness had power to arrest its fatal progress. He sank under it
about eleven o'clock at night. Such was the rapidity of this fatal
disease, that his silver playful voice still seemed to ring through
the house when he lay a placid corpse. Several poetic tributes to
his memory were made, but none more touching than some lines from
his own mother, which are fit to be preserved as a specimen of
native composition1.
17th. This being St. Patrick's day, we dined with our
excellent, warm-hearted, and truly sympathizing friend, Mr.
Johnston, in a private way. He is the soul of hospitality, honor,
friendship, and love, and no one can be in his company an hour
without loving and admiring a man who gave up everything at home to
raise up a family of most interesting children in the heart of the
American wilderness. No man's motives have been more mistaken, no
one has been more wronged, in public and private, by opposing
traders and misjudging governments, than he, and no one I have ever
known has a more forgiving and truly gentle and high-minded spirit.
28th. I began housekeeping, first on my return from the visit
to New York, in the spring of 1825, in the so-called Allen House, on
the eminence west of the fort, having purchased my furniture at
Buffalo, and made it a pretty and attractive residence. But after
the death of my son, the place became insupportable from the vivid
associations which it presented with the scenes of his daily
amusements.
1:
Who was it nestled on my breast,
And on my
cheek sweet kisses prest,
And in whose
smile I felt so blest?
Sweet Willy.
Who hail'd my form as home I stept,
And in my
arms so eager leapt,
And to my
bosom joyous crept?
My Willy.
Who was it
wiped my tearful eye,
And kiss'd
away the coming sigh,
And smiling,
bid me say, "good boy?"
Sweet Willy.
Who was it,
looked divinely fair,
Whilst
lisping sweet the evening pray'r,
Guileless and
free from earthly care?
My Willy.
Where is that
voice attuned to love,
That bid me
say "my darling dove?"
But, oh! that
soul has flown above,
Sweet Willy.
Whither has
fled the rose's hue?
The lily's
whiteness blending grew
Upon thy
cheek--so fair to view,
My Willy.
Oft have I
gaz'd with rapt delight,
Upon those
eyes that sparkled bright,
Emitting
beams of joy and light!
Sweet Willy.
Oft have I
kiss'd that forehead high,
Like polished
marble to the eye,
And blessing,
breathed an anxious sigh,
For Willy.
My son! thy
coral lips are pale--
Can I believe
the heart-sick tale,
That I thy
loss must ever wail?
My Willy.
The clouds in
darkness seemed to low'r,
The storm has
past with awful pow'r,
And nipt my
tender, beauteous flow'r!
Sweet Willy.
But soon my
spirit will be free,
And I my
lovely son shall see,
For God, I
know did this decree!
My Willy.
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Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the
Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers, 1851
Thirty
Years with the Indians |
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