No member shall draw more than two vol.
nues at a time. He shall not retain a book
longer than two weeks without renewal, nor º
longer than four weeks without special dis.
º from the Society, and every mem-º.
r shall incur a time of five cents per week /
ºupon each volume after the expiration of the
time specified above, for retailing books of
the Library-By-Law*, Sºº-º-º-º-º:
º-ºº-ºº-º-º:
Rººse: º
--~~~~
--
--~~~~~~~~~~~~

s $
. GrC. §
\ºr, A-A-
- -
LoGAN.
-This called upon me for revenge-


BO STON
B R A D tº tº it wº, so u + x - c. o M. P. A. N. Y.


*%-2-42
-
LIVES OF
I N D I A N S :
-- T-----------
ºcea--w, * -------- ---
- PETER PARLEY’s T.A.L.E.S.
NEW - Y O R. K.
J. M. ALLEN, 139 NASSAU STREET.
MDCCCXLI-
CELEBRATED AMERICAN
-- *- ---
-
- -
--------- ****
---
---,
By-G-Goodnicº,
--- --------
--- ---
------------
G-E-R-E. A. C-L-I-T-1s.
----------------o-º-Fouxo-ºo-ox.
* -


iº:
l
Parrace, .
Maxco Carac,
Mayºra Carac,
Huayna Carac,
Atahuatra,
Cauroucan,
Younatay,
Tupac Awantſ,
Quetzalcoatl,
Xolotl, .
Acamaritzin,
Montezuma I.,
Donna Manna,
Moºreruma II,
Coracuuqui,
Tascalauza, .
Viracuuco, .
Pocanonras,
Puur,
Poºrlac, .
Logan, .
C O N T E N T S.
---
15
19
43
59
75
91
95
... 117
- 123
- 141
- 150
- 157
- 150
- 191
iv. CONTENTs.
Baawr,
Tecumseh, - - - - -
Rep. Jacker, . - - - -
Showgrºuxecurite, on the Israx,
Black Hawk, - - - -
---
. 233
- 255
- 289
- 303


P. R. E. F. A. C. E.
In the course of the Cabinet Library, it is propºd to give
three volumes upon the Aborigines of North America, to con-
sist of the present volume, entitled Celebrated Indians of North
America, with one upon their Manners and customs, and one
upon their History.
The general object of these works will be to make the reader
familiar with the real character and genius of that remarkable
and peculiar race of men, which, however divided into various
tribes and nations, are still of one lineage, and were the mas-
ters of the American continent–the lords of the New World,
in its entire length and breadth–when it was discovered by
Columbus.
There are several reasons why this subject has not been
well understood. The conquerors and spoilers of America had
strong motives for first hating, and then defaming, the Abo-
rigines. Cortez yearned for the wealth of Mexico, and, to
obtain it, he must slaughter millions of the people, and enslave
the rest. Having done this, he would naturally seek to justify
his conduct to his own conscience and the world at large, by
representing them in the most degrading and revolting colors.
Pizarro would have the gold and silver of Peru, and, to cover-up
the atrocities he committed in obtaining it, must represent the
people he betrayed and butchered, as ungodly heathen, whom
it was not only lawful, but praiseworthy, to sweep from the
face of the earth.
A.

2 PRE-F-A-C-E-
Even the more scrupulous settlers of North America, occu-
pied a position unfavorable to a just judgment of the Indian
character. They were almost constantly in a state of active
hostility with the savages, until the Red Man was either driven
away, or extirpated, or reduced to a state of imbecility, degra-
dation and dependence. The savages were, therefore, ene-
mies, and how hard is it to judge fairly of those we hate:
They were also wronged, and we are told that “the most offend-
ing are the least forgiving.” It is interesting, yet painful, to
note the relentless bitterness of feeling indulged, even by the
godly pilºtims, toward such a chief as Philip of Mount Hope—
a savage indeed, and a ruthless enemy, yet a patriot and
statesman, according to his knowledge, whose mighty efforts
and melancholy fate should have extorted sympathy even from
a foe.
And if such was the spirit of our ancestors, it is but natural
that, as well to express their own feelings, as to make their
conduct stand fair before the world, they should portray the
Indians in the most unfavorable light. As they professed to be
guided by religious motives in all things, they denounced the
Indians as heathen, and, according to the morality of that
period, held it to be lawful, nay, meritorious, to slay them, as
worshippers of idols, and enemies of the true God. It is curi-
ous to see that, in New England, as well as in Mexico and
Peru, the ministers of religion, generally, stimulated the sol-
diers to their work of death, by prayers and exhortations-
though it must not, indeed, be forgotten that pious missionaries
were found, in both portions of the continent, to devote them-
selves to the conversion of the natives by the gentle means of
persuasion.
The misrepresentations, proceeding from the early settlers of
America, dictated as well by a natural feeling of dislike, as by
a desire to vindicate their harsh proceedings, constitute the
main sources of history, to which we have been accustomed
to go for our opinions of the Indians. A deep prejudice has

*R-1---- 3.
been thus engendered in our minds, and this is confirmed by
our own observation of the present tribes—wasted, degenerated
and brutalized, by contact with civilized man, who seems, in
his commerce with savages, generally, to give in exchange
only his vices, his diseases, and his crimes.
The difficulties in the way of truth, in respect to this sub-
ject, have not been diminished by the poets and novelists—who,
for the purpose of effect-of dramatic contrast, or picturesque
lights and shadows—have endowed their dusky heroes and
heroines with the romantic sentiment of soul, and diversified
association of mind, which belong only to a refined and luxu-
rious state of society. These illusory representations have,
however, been largely diffused and fondly cherished by a large
part of the reading world, as genuine portraitures of the Ameri-
can race. Thus, between the harsh and distorted pictures of
interested traducers, and the prismatic delineations of the sen-
timentalists, the real genius of the Indian has remained either
obscured, or hidden from the view.
The disposition to theorize has been another cause of mis-
take and delusion, in respect to the natives of this continent.
Almost every writer has discussed the subject for the purpose
of sustaining some cherished hypothesis-of-showing that they
were the descendants of the lost tribe of the Jews, or of Car-
thaginians who had traversed the Atlantic, or of emigrants
from Asia by way of the Polynesian islands; or some other
supposition equally unreasonable, or insusceptible of demon-
stration. And even when no definite scheme was to be made
out, the natural disposition to interpret the bosoms of others
by our own, has led historians and philosophers to estimate
the Indians by transatlantic standards of thought, feeling and
action.
Whatever may have been the beginning of this race, they
must be regarded, in the main, as an original people-carrying
with them, doubtless, the languages of their remote fathers, and
faint fragments of institutions and manners wrecked upon the

4. P-E-F-A-C-E-
far-off ocean of the past—yet still possessing a mund and
genius almost wholly their own. To judge such a people by
the European standards of religion, philosophy and taste, is
evidently wrong, and likely to lead to false conclusions. Who-
ever has studied a new language, must have felt that he has
become acquainted with a new, and before unknown, region of
thought; how original, then, and how different from our own,
must be the mind, soul and character of a people, who have
grown up by themselves, shaping out, in isolation from all the
rest of the world, and in utter ignorance of all but themselves,
their own manners, customs and institutions! In analyzing
such a race, we should study facts-abstain long from theory,
and constantly be on our guard against bringing them up to
be measured by the artificial rules established in our own
minds.
Yet, despite these various sources of error, the philosophic
spirit of the present day is making rapid strides towards a just
view of the subject. The labors of Stevens and Catherwood
have made the public familiar with facts heretofore known
only to the curious; and the sketches of Catlin have enabled us
to see the present tribes of the west, not as the pencil of fancy,
but as that of truth would portray them. These and other
circumstances have revived the interest felt in the aborigines
of this continent, and this is taking place at a period when
facts, and not theory, are demanded by the public. Under
influences like these, the time cannot be far remote when the
means of duly estimating the American race shall be finally
obtained.
In the present volume, as before stated, it is our purpose to
do something towards the diffusion of truth on the subject in
question, and, at the same time, we wish to direct attention to
the true mode of studying the original Indian character.
Whether we wish to understand the savage tribes of the north,
or the more civilized nations that once flourished in Mexico
and Peru, we must take facts, and not fancy, as our guide.
PRE-F-C-E- 5
we must always look at them as an isolated people, sepa-
rated by time and distance from the eastern continent; and
though we know them to be men, yet we must consider them
as men unmoulded by contact with the rest of the world, for
centuries—perhaps for ages.
The present volume will at least show the reader one striking
fact—that the annals of the American Indians are by no
means destitute of great deeds and heroic characters. Caupo-
lican, Philip, Tecumseh, and Pontine, were men of lofty
genius, and come up to the full measure of any savage
Briton, Dane, or Saxon, handed down to us in the proud pages
of English history.

--N-a ------


LIVES OF CELEBRATED INDIANS,
-
M A N C 0 C A PA. C.
Manco Capac, the legislator of the Peruvians and
the founder of the empire of the Incas, appears to
have been one of the first individuals of the western
continent, whose name has been transmitted to the
present time, as an eminent and distinguished person-
age among the primitive Americans. The age in
which he flourished, though indicated by the Peru-
vian accounts, is still not known. The dim and
uncertain light of tradition is our only guide through
the darkness of remote ages, in exploring the history
of the man who implanted the elements of civiliza-
tion in the inhabitants of Peru, and taught a horde
of savages the science of government and the arts
of more polished life.
The Peruvian traditions inform us that about three
centuries prior to the arrival of their Spanish conquer-
ors, and at a period when the inhabitants of that coun-
try were still in the rudest and most barbarous state
of existence, there suddenly appeared on one of the
islands of the lake Titicaca, two persons, clothed in
dresses of cotton, calling themselves the Children of
the Sun, and declaring that they were sent by their

s Manco CAPAC.
Beneficent Parent, who beheld with pity the miseries
of the human race, to reclaim, instruct and guide
them.
Historians have exercised great ingenuity in their
conjectures who these mysterious personages could
have been ; whether they were natives of Peru, en-
lightened by their own sagacity, or emigrants from a
region of America, more civilized, or shipwrecked
inhabitants of the eastern continent. On these points
the traditions of the country give us no information.
These persons were Manco Capac and his wife,
who was also his sister, named Mama Oello. The
natives flocked around them to learn the import of
their divine mission. The Peruvians had previously
been accustomed to regard the sun with superstitious
reverence, and the strange visitants took advantage
of this feeling of religious awe, to enforce their in-
structions. The commands issued by Manco Capac
were declared to proceed from the glorious luminary
of heaven, the visible deity of the universe. The
multitude listened, believed, and obeyed. Instructed
by the heavenly messengers, the wandering savages
of Peru renounced their roving and barbarous life,
followed them to the banks of the Apurímac, and
there, on an uneven plain, encircled by mountains,
laid the foundations of the city of Cuzco.
Having thus fixed a large portion of the population
in a permanent residence, and founded that social
union, which, by multiplying the desires and com-
bining the efforts of the human species, excites in-
dustry and leads to improvement, Manco instructed
the men in agriculture and other useful arts, while



Manco CAPAC. 9
his wife taught the women to spin and weave. By
these means, subsistence became less precarious, and
life was rendered more comfortable. Manco next
turned his attention to the business of legislation.
By his instructions the various relations in private
life were established, and the duties resulting from
them prescribed with exactness and propriety. Thus
barbarous tribes were speedily transformed into a civil-
ized people, and the new empire of Peru, thus
wonderfully established, became a well-governed
community.
There are many fabulous tales current among the
Peruvians, in connection with these accounts; but as
to the substance of the history they give, confirmed
as it is by the condition of Peru at the time of its
discovery, there appears no good reason to doubt.
Had Solon and Lycurgus dictated their laws to a
people without letters, and thus without the means
of recording their actions, they might have passed for
mythological personages with the sceptics of modern
days. If little beside the prominent events of Manco
Capac's life and career appear to be handed down
to us, the fact is sufficiently explained, by the remote-
ness of the age in which he lived, and the absence
of effectual means of recording the details of his story.
Though this renowned ruler may not have been the
first individual who exercised the authority of a chief
in-Peru, he must be considered as the first real sove-
reign of that country, and the founder of the empire
of the Incas.
At first, the extent of his dominions was small.
The territory of Cuzco, during his life-time, did not
10 Manco Cap-

exceed fifty miles square; but within these narrow
limits, he exercised absolute and uncontrolled author-
ity. His subjects, however, had no reason to com-
plain of his sway. Like that great luminary which
he encouraged them to worship, and from which he
pretended to deduce his lineage, he was continually
employed in dispensing blessings to his subjects, in
instructing and animating them in the exercise of
their natural and moral duties.
The government he established, and which pre-
vailed over the country till the arrival of the Span-
iards, was a paternal despotism, founded upon reli-
gion. The Inca was not merely the head of the
state, but the messenger of Heaven. His commands
were revered as the oracles of the divinity. The royal
race was held to be sacred in the highest degree; and
in order to prevent contamination by a mixture with
inferior blood, the sons of Manco Capac married their
own sisters, and no person was admitted to the throne
of Peru who could not claim it by so pure a descent.
The race of Capac bore the title of “Children of
the Sun,” and it was deemed an act of rebellion, as
well as impiety, to oppose the will of the Inca. His
authority, therefore, was unlimited, in the full extent
of the word. The persons of the highest rank in his
dominions, humbled with the sense of their natural
as well as political inferiority, never appeared in his
presence without a burthen on their shoulders, as an
emblem of their servitude and of their willingness to
bear whatever he should think fit to impose upon
them. Force was on no occasion necessary to exe-
cute his commands: an officer entrusted with them


M-NCO CAPAC. 11
might pass from one extremity of the empire to the
other without meeting with the slightest opposition.
On exhibiting a fringe of the royal borla, or Peruvian
crown, as a token of authority, the lives and fortunes
of the people were at his disposal.
Political duty being thus enforced by religious rev-
erence, the administration of the government was
unimpeded by sedition or disaffection; and there is
hardly known, in the traditionary history of Peru,
anything in the nature of a rebellion against the
reigning prince. A power so absolute was not abused
by the possessor: among the twelve successive mon-
archs, from Manco Capac to Atahualpa, there was
not one tyrant.
We are told that the founder of the Peruvian em-
pire enjoyed a long and happy reign, and died at
Cuzco, exhorting his subjects to adhere firmly to the
institutions which he had bequeathed to them. From
the events of his history, thus briefly stated, we may
easily form a general judgment of the character of
this celebrated lawgiver. Manco Capac must be
esteemed one of the great benefactors of the human
race, and the most enlightened of all the aborigines
of the western world. He reclaimed a savage peo-
ple, founded an empire, abolished human sacrifices,
and established, perhaps, the purest system of reli-
gion that human sagacity, unaided by the light of
revelation, has ever invented.
We have already remarked that the ingenuity of
historians has been exercised in endeavoring to pene-
trate the mystery which hangs over the origin of the
great Peruvian benefactor. If we receive the current

12 Manco capac.
tradition as authority, it is obvious that, in order to
explain these wonderful events, without a resort to
miracles, we must suppose Manco Capac to have been
a person enlightened by the civilization of the eastern
continent. It becomes, therefore, at least a plaus-
ible conjecture, that he was a native of some por-
tion of Asia, who, at the remote period when emi-
gration from that quarter of the world to America,
was common, found his way to the beautiful region
which he made the seat of his empire.
With the sagacity of a statesman he penetrated the
character of the people; and, guided by the lights of
Eastern mythology as well as Eastern civilization,
he adjusted them to the condition of those whom he
now sought to make his subjects. Taking advantage
of their predisposition to adore the heavenly bodies,
he professed to be sent on a divine mission by Pacha-
kamac, the unknown deity, of whom the sun is a
visible representation. Having thus gained an as-
cendency over their minds, he gradually proceeded
to weave over them the web of government and reli-
gion. His complete success sufficiently evinces his
own sagacity and the docility of the people. It is a
beautiful, but, alas, almostasolitary instance, in which
a savage nation has been subdued by the gentle arts
of persuasion; in which a conqueror has appeared
without arms, seeking dominion through the instru-
mentality of reason, rather than the sword; in which
a despot has left behind him no bloody foot-prints in
the path to power; and is only remembered by the
gentleness, benignity, and wisdom of his reign and of
the institutions he established. How mournful is the
Manco CAPAC. 13
thought, that an empire thus founded should have
been overthrown by a horde of robbers, attended by
priests bearing the cross of Christ, and acting in the
name of a Christian king, and by the authority of
one who professed to be the Keeper of the Keys of
Heaven.

-----------

M A Y TA CA PAC,
The fourth Inca from Manco Capac, is distin-
guished in Peruvian history for the conquests by
which he added to the territories of the empire. On
coming to the throne, he took the field with an army
of twelve thousand men, and penetrated into the level
district of Collao, near the lake Titicaca. The in-
habitants being of an unwarlike character, and the
country offering no obstacles to his march, the con-
quest was easily effected. Having established his
authority here, the Inca proceeded to Cacyaviri, a
district occupied by a scattered population without
towns. The country was perfectly level, with the
exception of a single steep and lofty mountain.
When the petty chieftains understood that it was the
intention of the Inca to subjugate them, they con-
structed a fort on this mountain, the men carrying
stones, and the women turf. Here they all en-
trenched themselves, with a copious supply of pro-
visions. The Inca summoned them to surrender,
but they replied that he might go and conquer other
nations, as they were resolved not to change their
manner of life.
Mayta Capac, finding them proof against all his
solicitations, prepared to attack the fortress. He
divided his army into four bodies, and surrounded
the mountain. The Indians made several sallies,
but without effect; and after they had weakened





16 MAYTA CAPAC.
themselves by repeated efforts, the Inca led his troops
on to a general assault, which was pushed with such
vigor that the besieged began to lose their courage.
The Curacas, one of the tribes, deserted and went over
to the Inca in a body, marching barefoot, with halters
round their necks, and every token of submission,
acknowledging that they merited death for presuming
to oppose the Descendants of the Sun. The Inca
received them with affability, saying, “I did not
come hither to deprive you of your lives or property,
but rather to enrich you, and to teach you to live
according to the laws of reason and nature, to quit
your idols, and adore the Sun as your benefactor and
your god.” He then permitted them to embrace his
right knee in token of protection,-a remarkable favor,
as it was sacrilege for any one, not of the imperial
family, to touch the person of the sovereign.
This act of clemency assured the conquest of the
remaining tribes, who all submitted on learning how
favorably the Curacas had been received. On his
march back to Cuzco, Mayta Capac made other con-
quests toward the west. There was in his route a
nation that used poisoned weapons in warfare: the
poison did not kill, but caused a perpetual torture which
continued for life. The Inca totally abolished this
savage custom, ordering that every man found guilty
of practising it should be burnt alive.
In one of his marches toward the west, he found
it necessary to cross the river Apurimac. For this
purpose he constructed a suspension bridge of withes
twisted together into five cables as thick as a man's
body: these were stretched across the river six hun-
MAYTA CAPAC. 17
dred feet in length, hanging high in the air. The
whole army, accompanied with droves of domestic
animals, passed over it in safety. Bridges of this
kind are at this day common in South America.
When he captured the town of Tiahuanaca, near
the lake Chucuytu, he found there a large pyramid,
having a foundation of immense masses of stone, sus-
taining terraces of earth. Near it were two gigantic
statues of stone, with garments reaching to the
ground, and caps on their heads; they appeared
much defaced by time. There was also a long wall,
built of immensely large stones, which excited the
astonishment of the Peruvians, as there were neither
quarries nor rocks in the neighborhood. In another
place were many extraordinary buildings; some of
which contained stones thirty feet long, fifteen feet
wide, and six feet thick. The walls of these build-
ings were covered with sculptures. The Indians
knew nothing of the origin of these structures.
Mayta Capac was one of the greatest of the Peru-
vian conquerors; the acquisitions which he made to
the empire were permanent, and he appears to have
accomplished the great object of his reign-the exten-
sion of the arts, sciences, civilization, and religion of
Peru. He died at Cuzco, in the height of his glory,
and was succeeded by his son, Capac Yupanaqui.
B.

Hu-N-CA-c.


H U A YN A C A PAC,
Son of Tupac Yupanaqui, was the twelfth Inca of
Peru. On his accession to the throne, he set out on
a tour to visit his dominions, and was everywhere
honored with triumphal arches and ways strewed
with flowers. While thus prosecuting his journey,
the birth of a son was announced to him, on which
he instantly returned to Cuzco. Twenty days were
spent in festivity; and the Inca, wishing to signalize
the day on which his first-born son was to receive his
name, by an act of uncommon magnificence, ordered
the construction of the famous golden chain, seven
hundred feet in length, and as thick as a man's wrist.
In two years the chain was finished, and the festival
commenced. The dancers, who consisted of all the
royal princes and chief personages at court, instead of
joining hands, as was customary, took hold of this
chain, and executed a solemn measure, singing a
hymn which had been composed for the occasion.
This chain was the richest piece of jewelry of which
the history of Peru gives any account. It probably
exists at this day in some undiscovered spot, as the
Indians secreted it when the Spaniards began their
system of plunder, and those who knew the place
probably all fell in the massacres which followed.
Huayna Capac extended the empire beyond the
limits of his father's victories. He conquered Tum-
bez, and erected in that city a strong fortress, a ten-
ple of the sun, and a house for the chosen virgins.

20 I-A-N- ------
Marching against the kingdom of Quito, he found
his progress impeded by the roughness of the coun-
try. When he had conquered that territory, a road
was constructed, uniting the two capitals, which de-
serves to be considered one of the wonders of the
world. It was fifteen hundred miles in length, pass-
ing over mountains, and across valleys, and through
every variety of country. Rocks were levelled, val-
leys filled up, and storehouses and buildings of vari-
ous sorts erected along the whole extent. During
the wars with the Spaniards, this road was in a great
measure destroyed, in order to render the passes as
difficult as possible. “We found,” says Humboldt,
“at heights surpassing that of the Peak of Teneriffe,
the magnificent remains of the road constructed by
the Incas. This road, paved with freestone, may be
compared with the finest Roman roads I have seen
in Italy, France, or Spain.” On the Inca's second
visit to Quito, another road was constructed through
the level country, marked out by posts, over the sands
and other tracts levelled for that purpose. When
the Inca travelled, these highways were strewed with
branches and flowers.
Huayna Capac carried on many wars with the
barbarous tribes that surrounded the Peruvian em-
pire, generally with full success. While he was
reposing himself in one of his magnificent palaces
at Tumipampa, a messenger brought intelligence that
some extraordinary men, such as had never before
been seen, had landed on the coast. The Inca was
much alarmed at this account, as an ancient oracle
had foretold the destruction of the empire by a nation
of strangers of this description. The Peruvian his-
IILAYNA CAPAC. 21
tories also inform us that many other strange and
portentous tokens, about this time, announced the
approaching calamities. Three years before the arri-
val of the Spaniards, during the celebration of the
feast of the sun, at Cuzco, a large eagle had been
pursued by a number of smaller birds, and wounded
by them so severely that he fell in the great square
of Cuzco, where he died. The augurs declared
that this was a presage of the ruin of the state, and
the extinction of their religion. This prodigy was
followed by earthquakes, which threw down high
mountains, and forced the sea out of its usual limits.
Appalling stories were circulated of blazing stars seen
in the sky, and the moon appearing as if surrounded
with bloody rings. The Inca was so terrified by these
portents, that he suspended his hostile expeditions, and
placed his army in garrisons in different parts of the
empire.
Being on a visit to Quito, he indulged himself in
bathing in the lake; but he had scarcely come out
of the water, when he was seized with a violent fit of
shivering, which was followed by a burning ſever,
He was at this time in an unusual degree of alarm
from two occurrences, in addition to the above-men-
tioned prognostics. A comet, of a green color, had
made its appearance, and his house had been struck
by lightning. Overwhelmed with superstitious terror,
he adopted the conviction that his disease would prove
mortal. Such a belieſ usually fulfils its own predic-
tion; and, accordingly, he expired at Quito, after a
short illness, in the year 1529, and in the forty-second
year of his reign.




-u-scan CAPAC.


ATA H U ALPA.
Aramuaira, sometimes called Atabalipa, the Inca
of Peru at the period of the invasion of that country
by the Spaniards, has gained a place in history, less
by his heroic qualities than by his calamitous fate.
The government of Peru was mild and paternal in
its administration, but absolute in form. In no part
of the world was despotism more complete. The
Incas, as we have stated, were supposed to be the
offspring of the sun-the chief object of worship
among the Peruvians,—and in consequence were not
only obeyed as sovereigns, but reverenced as divini-
ties. Their authority was unlimited and absolute;
their persons were held to be sacred, and their blood
was never allowed to be contaminated by intermar-
riage with the people. The royal family, thus separa-
ted from the rest of the nation, were farther distin-
guished by peculiarities of dress and ornaments which
it was unlawful for others to assume. Yet the last
of this illustrious line was doomed to die like a com-
mon malefactor.
The Inca, Huayna Capac, was a prince equally dis-
tinguished by the civil virtues peculiar to his race
and by his martial talents. He subjected by his arms
the kingdom of Quito, thereby nearly doubling the
extent of the Peruvian empire. Two sons were born
to him, Huascar and Atahualpa. Either from conside
erations of policy, or from a wish to gratify equally
24 ATALIU-LPa.
both of his children, he made no attempt permanently
to consolidate his empire, but at his death bequeathed
to Huascar, the elder son, the kingdom of Cuzco, and
to Atahualpa that of Quito; an arrangement most
unfortunate for the Peruvians, and one which led the
way to their speedy subjugation by the Spaniards.
If Huayna Capac made this division of the empire
from motives of policy, the event showed that he pos-
sessed little foresight as a statesman. The measure
was considered utterly at variance with the estab-
lished maxims of government; and no sooner was it
known at Cuzco, than it excited general disgust
among the people. Huascar, ambitious of individual
sway in Peru, and encouraged by these murmurs and
the charge of illegitimacy made against his brother,
Atahualpa, formally summoned him to lay down his
authority and submit to him as a sovereign. Many
of Atahualpa's retainers deserted him, and joined
Huascar. This, however, produced little effect upon
the former, who was at the head of the main body
of the Peruvian forces. These troops he had the
address to confirm in his interest, and, by tempo-
rizing, he eluded the demand of Huascar till he found
himself in a condition to take the field against him.
A civil war immediately ensued.
The first battle was fought at Amboto. The rival
sovereigns were not in the field. Atoco commanded
the troops of Huascar, and Chaliquichiama those of
Atahualpa. After a bloody conflict, in which sixteen
thousand men were killed, the forces of Huascar were
defeated; Atoco was made prisoner, and put to death
in cold blood; the conquering general made a drink-




ATA-11-ALPA. 25
ing cup of his skull, and ornamented it with gold. It
is thus that civil dissensions, in all ages and all coun-
tries, have augmented the common barbarities of war.
This victory strengthened the party of Atahualpa,
who immediately received the submission of several
provinces. He is charged with having exercised
atrocious cruelties towards those of his enemies who
fell into his hands; but the narrations of the Spanish
historians are to be received with suspicion in these
matters, as they were under a strong temptation to
blacken the character of a person whom their country-
men treated with such wanton injustice and cruelty.
Atahualpa now took upon himself the title of Inca
of the whole empire, and was crowned at Tomebamba.
Huascar, in the meantime, had recruited his shattered
forces, and now advanced to meet his rival. Each
army consisted of about eighty thousand men. In
the province of Pallas, a general action was fought,
which ended in the complete overthrow of Huascar.
Forty thousand men are said to have fallen. Huascar
was taken prisoner and confined in the tower of
Cuzco. The supremacy of Atahualpa was now fully
established.
But while the conqueror exulted in his success, a
more extraordinary danger threatened him. In the
northern part of his empire, appeared suddenly a
band of strangers from an unknown part of the
world; men who were represented as of fierce aspect,
wonderful strength, irresistible courage, and armed
with weapons which seemed to rival the lightnings
of heaven. These were the Spaniards, led by Pizarro,
who, in 1531, landed in the Bay of St. Matthew, with

26 ATA HU-LP-
a force of one hundred and forty-four foot soldiers
and thirty-six horsemen. This insignificant army
made a hostile invasion into an empire containing
several millions of inhabitants. The thirst for gold
had led them through every degree of fatigue and
peril on this expedition, and the event showed that
avarice can prompt mankind to deeds of bravery not
surpassed by those which spring from love of country,
the desire for fame, and other motives equally honor-
able to human nature.
The capital of the province of Coaque was the
first considerable town visited by the invaders. It
contained much treasure in gold, silver and jewels,
“which,” says the Spanish historian, Herrera, with
great simplicity, “the natives had time enough to
secure, if they had thought fit; but as they had done
no harm to the strangers, they never imagined they
would hurt them, but supposed they should all have
a merry time together!" The town was immediately
plundered; the inhabitants fled to the mountains, and
the Spaniards, with their rapacity stimulated by a
rich booty so easily obtained, continued their march
to the south. Town after town was taken and pil-
laged, new spoils only increasing the thirst of the
invaders for more. A reinforcement of sixty men
increased their army; and the unwarlike Peruvians,
terrified by the fire-arms, the war-horses, the spears
and the swords of the Spaniards, fled everywhere
before them. At St. Michael, on the river Piura,
where Pizarro halted some time, on his march, to
establish a colony, he first heard of the civil war by
which the empire was then distracted.

ATAllºa-PA. 27
Had Peru been at peace on the arrival of the
Spaniards, there could have been little chance for
success on the part of the invaders. Even the vast
superiority of their arms, courage, skill and discipline,
would have been insufficient to sustain them against
the overpowering numbers of the Peruvian armies.
Atahualpa did not succeedin conquering his rival till
the Spaniards had made considerable progress in the
country, and the panic occasioned by their appearance
and exploits had made a serious impression upon the
people. Pizarro had not been slow to perceive the
importance of the conjuncture during which he had
arrived in the empire. He pushed forward, with all
possible rapidity, towards Caxamalca, where Atahu-
alpa was encamped with a considerable army. The
Peruvian chief, hearing of his approach, sent a mes-
senger with a present and an offer of his alliance.
Pizarro accepted the present, declared his willingness
to assist Atahualpa against his brother Huascar, and
continued his march.
Atahualpa would willingly have crushed the inva-
ders at a single blow, but it was now too late. Such
terror had been inspired by the arms and equipments
of the Spaniards, that the Peruvian troops showed an
unwillingness to march against assailants who were
believed to be invincible. Atahualpa, timid and irres-
olute at the approach of his new enemies, had not
the firmness to take any decided step to oppose their
march. He even suffered himself to be imposed upon
by Pizarro's assurances of friendship, and allowed the
Spaniards to penetrate into the country, without oppo-
sition, toward the mountains which encompass the

28 ATA-L-L-A-
low country of Peru, and to pass unobstructed through
a defile so narrow and difficult of passage, that a
handful of men might have defended it against a
numerous army.
Having gained this important point, Pizarro halted
his men and took possession of a fortress which com-
manded the pass. Atahualpa sent another embassy,
to which the Spaniard replied by an evasive and
ambiguous statement of his pacific intentions. The
Peruvian chief continued to load the strangers with
presents, which only betrayed the fears of the donor
and stimulated anew the avarice of his visitors. Ata-
hualpa suffered them to advance and take possession
of the town of Caxamalca, a league from his own
camp. The timidity and irresolution of this prince
were strongly contrasted with the boldness and deci-
sion of the Spanish chieftain. Without hesitation,
he formed a design to seize upon the person of the
Inca, and, by that event, to acquire the means as well
as a pretext for his scheme of unlimited usurpation,
conquest and plunder. Never before was exhibited
such a combination of perfidy, rapacity and cruelty,
as appears in the accomplishment of Pizarro's auda-
cious project.
He marched into Caxamalca towards evening, and
quartered his troops in a large court situated between
the royal palace and a temple of the sun; the court,
as well as the buildings, being surrounded by a strong
wall. From this spot he despatched an embassy to
the Inca, requesting an interview. On reaching the
camp,the messengers found the Peruvian army drawn
up to receive them. The Peruvians gazed with aston-

ATA HUALPA. 29
ishment at the strangers, who increased their amaze-
ment by putting their horses to the spur, vaulting,
plunging and curvetting with such agility, that the
simple natives imagined the steed and the rider to
be one animal. The Spaniards were hardly less
astonished with the novelty and magnificence of the
display on the part of the Peruvians; the barbaric
pomp and stateliness of the Inca; the golden orna-
ments which adorned him and his attendants; the
fantastic dress and strange weapons of the troops; and
the multitude of gold and silver utensils arranged for a
feast; which all combined to form a spectacle of fairy
splendor and opulence, such as no European of that
age had ever beheld.
After some minutes had been passed in gazing at
each other in mutual wonder, the Spaniards ap-
proached the golden throne on which Atahualpa was
seated. The Inca rose, gave them a respectful greet-
ing, and welcomed them to his dominions. A feast
was served up, and both parties drank peace and
friendship to each other, at the moment when the
perfidious Spaniards were anticipating, soon after,
the horrid scene of plunder and butchery that ensued.
Atahualpa, deceived by this show of amity on the
part of his guests, promised to pay them a visit on
the following day. Pizarro, overjoyed to find the
Inca had so unsuspiciously fallen into the snare he
had laid, instantly made his arrangements for the
treacherous scheme he meditated. He harangued
his soldiers, expatiated on the boundless wealth now
within their reach, and animated them by the power-
ful incentives of avarice and glory, to execute his

30 ATA HUALP-
audacious design without fear, scruple, or hesitation.
Little was wanting to stimulate them to the deed;
the Peruvian gold had kindled the insatiate thirst of
avarice in their souls, and no man's conscience
appears to have asked him if the deed to be done
was just.
The preparations were speedily made. The cav-
alry were divided into four squadrons, to act with
more celerity; the musketeers were posted in a
tower of the palace, from whence they might fire
securely upon the defenceless multitude; fifteen cho-
sen men, with spears, were appointed as Pizarro's
body-guard, to assist him in the hazardous service
which he designed for himself; the artillery, consist-
ing of two field-pieces, and the crossbowmen, were
stationed opposite the avenue by which Atahualpa
was to approach; the rest of the infantry were drawn
up in a separate body, and the whole force were
ordered to keep within the square and await the pre-
concerted signals.
With the dawn of day, the Peruvian camp was
perceived to be in motion; but as the Inca was desir-
ous of appearing with the greatest possible splendor
before his guests, the preparations for the march were
so numerous that the morning was far spent before
the procession began to move from the camp. This-
delay, and the slow solemnity with which the march
was conducted, caused the liveliest inquietude in the
breast of the treacherous Pizarro, who began to have
strong misgivings lest his perfidy was discovered, or
at least suspected. He saw the magnificent train of
Peruvians at a distance, glittering with gold and
-T-L-L-A-


32 ATA Hu-LPA-
silver in the morning sun; the brilliant prize seemed
to be snatched from before his eyes at the instant
when he believed it within his grasp. A single gleam
of suspicion in the mind of the deluded Inca, and all
the dreams of gloating avarice would be dissipated in
a moment. But the destiny of the unfortunate Atahu-
alpa was decreed. Stimulated by new messages and
assurances of friendship from the treacherous and
impatient Spaniard, he hastened his march, and at
length approached the Spanish quarters.
Atahualpa was preceded by four hundred men,
covered with plates of gold and silver and precious
stones. He was carried on a throne of burnished
gold, adorned with plumes of various colors. Next
followed the principal officers of state, borne, like their
master, on the shoulders of his principal attendants.
These were followed by bands of singers and dancers,
and the whole plain was covered with troops to the
number of thirty thousand men.
The Spanish historian, Herrera, in order to palliate
the atrocious conduct of Pizarro, affects to believe that
Atahualpa meditated a treacherous attack upon the
Spaniards. In proof of this, he relates several cir-
cumstances, which, however, are contradictory to each
other and to common sense. Atahualpa marched
into the enclosure of the Spaniards without the least
suspicion, and halted with his chief attendants, in the
great square.
A religious farce had been projected by the Span-
iards, as an introduction to their work of treachery.
As soon as the Inca had taken his post in the square,
a friar, named Valverde, chaplain to the expedition,

ATA-111ALPA. 33
advanced to the throne, with a crucifix and a breviary,
and began a formal homily, explaining to the Peru-
vian sovereign the history of the creation of the
world, the fall of man, the doctrine of the incarna-
tion, the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the appointment
of St. Peter as God's vicegerent on earth, the inheri-
tance of his authority by the popes of Rome, &c.; in
short, a summary of the Bible history and of the Cath-
olic religion. He then informed him that the pope
had given the whole western continent to the king
of Spain, in consequence of which, Atahualpa was
required to submit to Charles W., as his lawful sove-
reign, on pain of the most speedy and terrible ven-
geance which that monarch could inflict upon him.
A demand so extravagant and absurd, was rendered
still more revolting by the imperfect manner in which
it was signified to the Inca by the interpreter. It is
not surprising, therefore, that he listened to it with
feelings of indignation and scorn. The barbarian
chief, however, preserved his temper, and replied with
coolness, “I should be happy to be the friend of the
king of Spain, who has sufficiently displayed his
power by sending armies into countries so distant;
but I disdain to be his vassal, I owe no tribute to
any mortal potentate, and know no man superior in
authority to myself. A foreign priest has no right to
give away my dominions. As to changing my reli-
gion, which you request me to do, it would be both
foolish and impious in me to abandon the worship
transmitted to me by my ancestors, until I am con-
vinced that it is false and yours true. You worship a
God who died on a tree. For my part, I adore the
c

34 ATA HUALPA.
Sun, who never dies. As to the story of the creation
and the fall of the first man, where did you learn
things which happened so long ago?” Here Wal-
verde interrupted him by replying, in an arrogant tone,
holding up his breviary, “In this book!” The Inca
seized the volume, examined it attentively, turned
over the leaves, and put it to his ear. “This,” said
he, with a disdainful smile, “tells me nothing;" and
contemptuously threw it on the ground. Herrera
asserts that he heightened the insult by requesting
Pizarro to return the gold and silver of which he had
robbed the Peruvians.
Without doubt every circumstance of this interview
had been foreseen, and the last act of the Inca was
waited for as a signal for the massacre. No sooner
had the book touched the ground, than the infuriated
monk cried out, “Vengeance! my countrymen, ven-
geance! Christians! the gospel is insulted! Kill
these impious dogs, who trample under foot the law
of God!" Pizarro gave the signal, by waving a
white handkerchief, and the massacre began. From
all parts, the cannon and muskets were fired, the
drums boat, and the trumpets sounded. The cavalry
rushed upon the astounded Peruvians, who, deeming
themselves in perfect safety, had crowded within the
enclosure to the number of eight thousand men. Not
the slightest attempt at resistance was made by the
timid natives, who thought of nothing but flight.
The Spaniards, with unrelenting barbarity, made the
most terrible slaughter among the defenceless fugi-
tives. Pizarro, at the beginning of the onset, rushed
with his chosen band upon the Inca, and, after massa-

ATAll-U-LPA. 35
cring the nobles who surrounded him, seized him by
the arm, dragged him from his throne, and carried
him off, a prisoner, to his own quarters.
The consternation of the Peruvians was inexpres-
sible. In every quarter they fled with precipitation;
yet the Spaniards, from a savage thirst of blood, con-
tinued to pursue and slaughter the trembling fugitives
with unabated ferocity. Valverde, during the whole
massacre, ran up and down among the soldiers, ani-
mating them to bloodshed, and exhorting them to
strike the infidels, “not with the edge of the sword,
but with the point.” The carnage lasted till the close
of the day, and would have continued longer, had not
a heavy shower of rain put an end to the horrible
scene. Four thousand of the Peruvians were killed;
the wounded were not counted. Not a single Span-
iard fell, nor was any one wounded except Pizarro,
who received a trifling hurt in the hand.
From bloodshed the conquerors proceeded to pil-
lage. Gold, silver, jewels, fine garments, and other
valuable commodities lay before them in every quar-
ter. The booty collected by them was immense, and
far surpassed even their own immoderate expectations.
They were so transported with this sudden acquisi-
tion of enormous wealth, that, without the slightest
remorse for the horrible and unprovoked cruelties
they had exercised upon the simple and confiding
natives, they gave themselves up to the most extrav-
agant manifestations of joy, with rioting, drunkenness.
and debauchery. It is difficult to conceive that these
men were Castilians, a race distinguished for mag-
nanimity, probity, and chivalrous honor; but there is

36 ATA HUALPA.
no perversion of the heart which may not be accom-
plished by the permicious thirst of gold.
The unhappy Atahualpa, thus precipitated from the
pinnacle of grandeur to the lowest depths of misery,
could hardly believe these occurrences real; all ap-
peared to him but a bewildering dream. As the sad
reality became evident to his mind, he sunk into
a profound melancholy. Firmness and elasticity of
mind appear to have formed no part of his character:
nor are we to be surprised that he should have
been overwhelmed by a catastrophe which seemed to
be brought about by the exercise of a supernatural
power. The Peruvians were inconsolable, believing
at first that their sovereign was slain; but learning,
presently, that he was only a prisoner, they flocked
in crowds to Caxamalca, to attend him in his confine-
ment and console him in his affliction. Nothing
could be more moving than the fidelity with which
they attended the captive monarch, and the amiable
assiduity they displayed in their attempts to soothe
his grief and pour comfort into his wounded heart.
But their consolations were ineffectual. The hypo-
critical Pizarro, fearing that his victim would pine
away and die of sorrow, by which means he should be
deprived of all the advantages he enjoyed in the pos-
session of his person, endeavored to encourage him
by professions of friendship and formal testimonies
of respect. These unmeaning manifestations, which
were only so many insults to a person whom he had
basely betrayed, had no effect in deceiving the Inca,
who had now become apprized of the perfidious
character of the Spaniards. He replied simply with

ATA-111 ALPA- 37
a request that his wives and children might be pro-
tected.
In the first moments of surprise and consterna-
tion that followed his imprisonment, the wretched
Atahualpa was at a loss to determine the motive
which had induced the Spaniards to leave their own
country upon so distant and perilous an expedition.
The conversion of the Peruvians to Christianity, ap-
peared to him little more than a pretence. It was not
long before the sagacity of the Inca discovered that
the love of gold was the ruling passion of the con-
querors, and he did not delay turning this to account,
with a view to the recovery of his liberty. He opened
a negotiation with Pizarro for his ransom, and offered
to fill his apartment, which was twenty-two feet long
and sixteen wide, with vessels of gold as high as he
could reach. The avaricious Spaniard caught eager-
ly at the proposal, and a line was drawn upon the
wall to mark the measure. Atahualpa despatched
his officers to Cuzco, Quito, and other places where
gold had been amassed in great quantities. His
orders were obeyed with the greatest alacrity. Trans-
ported with the hopes of obtaining the liberty of
their sovereign, the generous and loyal Peruvians
permitted their palaces, their temples, and their pri-
vate dwellings to be stripped of their wealth and
ornaments, and thus to gratify the insatiate cupidity
of their treacherous invaders. Meanwhile the Span-
iards remained at Caxamalca, without any hostile
spirit being manifested toward them by the inhabitants.
Atahualpa, in distrust of his craſty and perfidious
enemies, had taken the precaution to stipulate that

38 at arital. PA.
the golden vessels should not be broken up or put
out of shape, to increase their quantity in the meas-
urement. This agreement was observed by the Span-
iards with their usual faith: the gold was melted, and
the unfortunate prince, after having been robbed of
his liberty, was cheated in his ransom. Gold enough,
however, was collected to fulfil the stipulation, even
on these unfair terms. The value of the treasure
amounted to nearly two million of dollars.
While this affair was in progress, a party of Span-
tards had penetrated to Cuzco, where Huascar had
been kept in confinement. The captive prince re-
lated his story to the Spaniards, and dwelt at great
length on the wrongs he had endured. He solicited
them to embrace his cause against Atahualpa, and
promised them, as a recompense, a quantity of treas-
ure vastly greater than what they were to receive
from Atahualpa. Intelligence of this intrigue being
conveyed to Caxamalca, the Inca was thrown into
great alarm. He well knew that the prospect of su-
perior gain would induce the greedy Spaniards at
once to violate their engagements with him, and that
he, therefore, stood on the brink of ruin. He saw that
his life would immediately be sacrificed, should the
proposal of Huascar be received with approbation, and
he resolved to save himself by putting his brother to
death. His order to this effect was executed with
scrupulous punctuality. Having now paid his ran-
som, and removed what appeared to be the only
obstacle in the way of his enlargement, he demanded
to be set at liberty.
But as it cost the Spaniards no scruple to imprison
and rob the Inca by the most flagrant treachery, it

ATA HUALPA. 39
could cost them none to take his life. Pizarro, indeed,
never designed to set him at liberty; the Peruvians
would have flocked to the standard of their sovereign,
and the whole country would have risen against the
cruel invaders. The release of Atahualpa was there-
fore delayed, on various pretexts, from day to day, till
a mutual distrust arose between the prince and the
Spanish chief. It was not long before the custody
of the illustrious captive began to prove irksome to
Pizarro, who had not the talents and address to acquire
any strong influence over the Peruvians by holding
their sovereign in imprisonment, as had been done,
in the case of Montezuma and the Mexicans, by Cor-
Lez.
Almagro had now arrived in Peru with a reinforce-
ment. His soldiers, on account of a dispute as to the
distribution of Atahualpa's ransom, began to clamor
for the Inca's death, that all the adventurers in Peru
might be placed on an equal footing. Rumors were
in circulation that forces had assembled in different
parts of the empire with hostile purposes. It was
suspected that orders from Atahualpa had caused
these movements, and the Spaniards grew uneasy in
the apprehension of an attack. These fears were
augmented by an artful Indian, Philippillo, of Tum-
bez, whom the Spaniards employed as an interpreter.
This person had been smitten with the charms of one
of the wives of Atahualpa, and did not scruple to
intrigue for the death of the Inca, that no obstacle
might exist in the way of his passion.
The catastrophe was hastened by a singular inci-
dent. Atahualpa, during his imprisonment, held fre-
quent intercourse with the Spanish officers, many of

40 ATA HUALP-
whom were men of education and intelligence. His
natural sagacity led him to converse upon the Euro-
pean arts, particularly that of reading and writing,
which strongly excited his admiration. He was un-
able at first to understand whether this was an inhe-
rent or an acquired faculty in the Spaniards; and, to
satisfy himself, procured one of his guards to write
the name of God on his thumbnail. This he desired
several of the soldiers, in succession, to read, which
they all did correctly, to his great amazement. But
at length Pizarro entered his room, and was requested
by the Inca to read histhumb. The illiterate soldier
blushed with confusion, and was obliged to confess
his ignorance of the art. Atahualpa, whose discern-
ment had before remarked the contrast between the
rude manners of the Spanish commander and the
more polished demeanor of his officers, instantly set
him down for a mean and ill-bred person. His nat-
ural frankness of behavior displaying his thoughts
too openly, Pizarro could not fail to see that he had
become the object of a barbarian's scorn. He was
stung with mortification at this circumstance, and re-
solved on the destruction of his victim. Strange con-
tradiction in the human character! The man, who
could betray, oppress, rob, and butcher his fellow-
creatures without a sentiment of shame or a pang of
remorse, was stimulated to the most vindictive pas-
sion by losing the respect of a barbarian!
The mockery of a trial was projected, in order to
cover the intended murder with the forms of justice.
Pizarro, Almagro, and two others, then appointed
themselves judges with full powers, and the Inca of
Peru was formally indicted before this strange court.

ATAllu ALPA- 41
He was charged with usurpation, idolatry, polygamy,
embezzlement of the royal treasures, which now be-
longed to the Spaniards, and seditious designs against
the conquerors. It is hardly necessary to say that the
Inca was found guilty, and condemned to be burnt
alive. Though he was prepared for almost any
degree of injustice, treachery and cruelty, at the hands
of his enemies, yet a proceeding so monstrous as
this, excited his astonishment. After depriving him
of his treasures, his throne and his liberty, he could
not imagine what profit the conqueror could find
in taking his life. He burst into tears when his
cruel ſate was announced to him, begged for his
life, and entreated that he might be sent to Spain
and allowed to plead his cause before the king.
But pity never touched the stern heart of Pizarro.
He was deaf to all the supplications of the unfortu-
nate monarch, and ordered him to be led instantly to
execution. An attempt was made by the priest Val-
verde to convert him to Christianity, during the brief
space that elapsed between his condemnation and his
death, by offering to mitigate his punishment; and
the wretched Atahualpa, to escape the torture of being
burnt alive, consented to receive baptism, and was
then strangled at the stake!
Such was the calamitous end of the last reigning
Inca of Peru, the victim of a series of treacher-
ies and cruelties that disgrace the Spanish name.
“There is no need,” says a Peruvian author, “to utter
invectives against his murderers; they all speedily
got their deserts.” The robbers quarrelled over their
booty, and ſell, one after another, by massacre and
assassination:
--ul-ol-c-N.


C. A U POLIC A.N.
Campolican, a chief of the Araucanians, the abori-
ginal inhabitants of Chili, is no less distinguished for
his martial deeds than for the renown which the
Castilian muse has conferred upon his name. The
genius of Ercilla, as well as that of Lope de Vega,
has been exercised in celebrating his patriotism, and
the military exploits by which the Spanish invaders
were taught to respect and fear the prowess of the
native Americans.
The Araucanians were and are still, the most
brave, resolute and warlike of all the South Ameri-
can Indian tribes. The Spanish invaders, who served
in the wars in the Netherlands, and afterwards fought
with the natives of Chili, named this country the
“Araucanian Flanders,” or the Invincible State. It
well deserved the name: the intrepid and persevering
natives have maintained their independence to the
present day, and the wars which they have succes-
sively carried on against the Spaniards, have been
signalized by deeds of valor and skill, which would
have conferred honor upon the most martial nation in
the old world. It is in the year 1553, when the terri-
tory of the Araucanians was invaded by Valdivia,
that we find the first mention of Caupolican.
The Spaniards had penetrated far into Chili, and
although several times defeated by the natives, they

44 CAL POL-L-N-
built a number of fortresses, and being assisted by
reinforcements, seemed to have secured a firm footing
in the country. Lincoyan, the Araucanian togui, or
general, had, by his misconduct, occasioned some dis-
asters, and the affairs of the war began to wear a
threatening aspect. In this emergency, an old chief,
named Colocolo, quitting the retirement into which
he had voluntarily withdrawn himself, traversed the
country on a patriotic mission, to arouse anew the
courage of the people, which had been rendered torpid
by their misfortunes. He set before them the condi-
tion of their affairs, and pointed out the necessity of
selecting a new general. His counsel prevailed; the
Ulmens, or subordinate chiefs of the districts, assem-
bled, according to custom, in a meadow, and, after the
usual feast, proceeded to consult upon the election.
Great competition arose for the honor of the com-
mand, and the dispute ran so high, that the angry
rivals were about to resort to their weapons, when
they were checked by the venerable Colocolo, who,
by a well-timed and forcible address, so far pacified
them, that all with one accord submitted the appoint-
ment to his choice. He named, without hesitation,
Caupolican, the Ulmen of Pilmayquen, a district of
Tucapel.
Don Alonzo de Ercilla, a soldier of the invading
army, wrote a long epic poem, called the Araucania,
in which the events of this war are minutely re-
lated. He composed it during his campaigns, as the
events successively occurred, sometimes writing on
scraps of hide for want of paper. Though deficient
in invention, it has many fine descriptive passages,

---------N- 45
and is entitled to the distinction of being the best
heroic poem in the Spanish language. Ercilla states
that Caupolican was elected in a manner highly orig-
inal and characteristic. Colocolo proposed that the
command should be given to the man who could
prove himself the strongest of limb.
“A leader bold this desperate state demands,
To guide to vengeance our impatient bands:
Fit for this hardy task that chief I deem
who longest may sustain a massive beam.
Your rank is equal-let your force be tried,
And for the strongest, let his limbs decide.”
They acquiesce in the proposal. The beam is
produced, and is of a size so enormous, that the poet
declares himself afraid to specify its weight. The
first chieftains who engage in the trial, support it on
their shoulders four and six hours each; Tucapel
fourteen, and Lincoyan more than twice as long;
when the assembly, considering his strength almost
supernatural, are resolved to pronounce him general.
At this moment Caupolican arrives, demands a trial,
and surpasses Lincoyan; he is accordingly pro-
nounced general-in-chief by acclamation.
In whatever manner he was elected, the whole
nation applauded the choice. Caupolican was of a
lofty stature and majestic countenance, though, like
Hannibal, deficient in one eye. Having assumed the
axe, the symbol of authority among the Araucanians,
he immediately appointed his officers, in which
number he had the magnanimity to include all his
competitors. The troops now considered themselves

46 C-U-O-C-N-
invincible under their new togui, and demanded to be
led instantly against the enemy. But Caupolican,
who was politic as well as valiant, saw the necessity
for proceeding with caution. He ordered a new sup-
ply of arms to be furnished, and proceeded to disci-
pline his men. He then watched for a favorable
opportunity of surprising the enemy by stratagem;
this an accident soon furnished him.
The Spaniards, under Reynoso, were posted in
considerable force at Arauco, a fortified place on the
coast near the river Biobio. A body of eighty
Indians, auxiliaries of the Spaniards, were conducting
forage to this place, when they were captured by the
troops of Caupolican. His quick sagacity saw at once
the means of turning this event to further advantage.
He selected a like number of his bravest soldiers,
directed them to conceal their weapons in the bundles
of grass, and march to the fortress in the guise of the
friendly Indians. Having secured possession of the
gate, they were to wait the arrival of the main body.
The pretended foragers performed their part so
skilfully, that they were admitted without the least
suspicion within the fortress. They immediately
drew their weapons and attacked the guard. The
alarm was given throughout the place, and the whole
garrison rushed to the scene of conflict. The Arau-
canians retained their ground at first, and the fortress
would have been captured had Caupolican advanced
with more speed; but, at the moment of his arrival,
the Spaniards had pushed their attacks so vigorously,
that the Araucanians, overpowered by numbers, were
forced to retreat; and the gates were cleared and the

CAUPolic-AN. 47
draw-bridge raised before he could bring his fresh
troops into action. Caupolican, although ſoiled in
his first attempt, determined to storm the place. A
general assault was made, but the valor of the Indians
was ineffective against the Spanish artillery. Find-
ing he had lost a great number of men, he withdrew
his army from the walls, and turned the siege into a
blockade.
The garrison made many sallies, but without any
success. Finding themselves in danger of starving,
they decided to evacuate the place and retire to
Puren. At midnight, they mounted their horses,
threw open the gates, rushed out at full speed, and
escaped through the midst of the blockading forces.
The Araucanians, suspecting no such movement, sup-
posed this to be no more than an ordinary sally, and
took no measures to obstruct their flight. Caupo-
lican destroyed this fortress, and marched to the
attack of that of Tucapel, situated in the interior.
This post was garrisoned by a body of forty Span-
iards, who, after sustaining repeated attacks from
Caupolican, were forced to save themselves in the
same manner as the garrison of Arauco had done.
Tucapel was also demolished, and Caupolican en-
camped his army on the ruins.
Valdivia, the Spanish commander-in-chief, had his
headquarters at Concepcion, where he received intel-
ligence of the siege of Arauco. He immediately set
out on his march for that place, with all the troops he
could muster. This hasty movement was in opposi-
tion to the advice of his officers, who counselled him
to delay his march till a stronger force could be col-

48 CAUPol-ICAN.
lected. The Araucanian army was said to amount
to more than nine thousand men. Valdivia's forces
were less than half this number; his soldiers, how-
ever, full of presumptuous confidence, inspired him
by their vain boast that a dozen Castilians were
sufficient to put to flight the whole Araucanian army.
Valdivia hastened his march, but Arauco had fallen.
He then directed his course toward Tucapel, and, on
arriving near the place, sent forward a body of ten
horsemen to reconnoitre; they fell in with a scouting
party of Araucanians, and were all slain; the Indians
cut off their heads and hung them upon the trees that
lined the road to Tucapel.
The Spanish army, as they approached the place,
were struck with horror at this evidence of the
melancholy fate of their countrymen, and their over-
weening confidence was changed to boding appre-
hension. They beheld Tucapel in smoking ruins,
and a powerful and well-arranged army in battle
array to receive them. Waldivia now began to repent
his rashness in marching with so little preparation
against his enemy. In his timid irresolution, he would
have retreated, but his Castilian pride could not brook
the disgrace of flying before a horde of barbarians.
The Indians insulted their enemies by loud cries, call-
ing them villains and robbers, and goading them to
indignation by their scoffing and opprobrious language.
In this situation, it was impossible long to deſer
the combat. Both sides rushed to battle. A de-
tachment from the left wing of the Spaniards which
began the attack, was immediately cut to pieces; a
second, which followed it, experienced the same fate;

CAUPOLICAN. 49
the engagement became general, and the Spaniards,
furnished with superior weapons, made great slaugh-
ter among their enemies. The Araucanians had no
fire-arms, but fought with swords, lances and clubs.
Valdivia displayed great bravery, and encouraged his
troops by his voice and example. Rank after rank
of the Indians was mowed down by the musketry
and artillery of the Spaniards, but they continued to
supply their places with fresh troops. At length,
their repeated losses dismayed the Indians, and they
began to give way in disorder. Caupolican, Tucapel,
and the veteran Colocolo, attempted in vain to arrest
their flight. The Spaniards shouted “Victory!" and
the day had been irretrievably lost to the natives, had
not an unexpected incident suddenly turned the tide
of war against the conquerors.
At the moment when the victory seemed decided,
an Araucanian youth, of sixteen, suddenly rushed out
from the Spanish ranks, and with a loud voice re-
proached his countrymen for their cowardice, and
exhorted them to the fight. This was Lautaro, the
page of Valdivia, a captive of the Spaniards, who had
been baptized as a Christian. The sight of his
countrymen in arms, flying in disorder before their
enemies, had aroused all the patriotic feeling of this
noble and intrepid youth, and the national spirit
instantly extinguished every spark of attachment to
his adopted masters. Grasping a lance, he turned
against the advancing Spaniards, crying, “ Follow
me, my countrymen, to victory!" Instantly, as if
inspired by a supernatural accession of courage, the
dispirited and flying Araucanians turned upon their
L

CAUTOLICAN. 51
enemies, and renewed the attack with such unex-
pected fury, that the Spaniards, exhausted with fa-
tigue, could not resist the shock; their whole army
was put to the rout and completely dispersed. Val-
divia was taken prisoner, and brought before Caupo-
lican. The Spanish general did not disdain to solicit
his life, in the humblest manner, at the hands of the
savage conqueror, promising to quit Chili with all his
forces. Lautaro seconded his request, and Valdivia
would have been spared; but, while the officers were
deliberating, an old Ulmen, more ferocious than the
rest, exclaimed that it was madness to trust to the
promises of the perfidious Spaniards, and instantly
despatched the unfortunate prisoner with a blow of
his club. It is added by the historian, that, as a
reproach to his avarice, the Indian poured melted
gold down his throat; but it is not improbable that
this is a fiction borrowed from classical history.
The battle of Tucapel was fought on the 3d of
December, 1553. Never was a victory more com-
plete than this, which had been gained by the wild
Araucanians, over the disciplined bands of the Castil-
ian invaders. Caupolican, although highly exas-
perated at the conduct of the Ulhen, dared not punish
him as he wished. A joyous festival, on the follow-
ing day, crowned the success of the conquerors.
Games and diversions were exhibited in a spacious
meadow, surrounded by tall trees, to which were
suspended the heads of the slaughtered Spaniards.
An immense crowd of people, from the neighboring
country, flocked to the place to witness the trophies
of a victory over an army, which, till then, had


52 CAUPOLICAN.
been considered invincible. The officers, in token of
triumph, wore the clothes of their slain enemies; and
Caupolican arrayed himself in the armor and surcoat,
embroidered with gold, which had been worn by his
formidable enemy, Valdivia.
Consternation spread throughout the Spanish settle-
ments in Chili at the news of the battle of Tucapel.
The minor posts were immediately abandoned, and
the inhabitants fled to the towns of Imperial, Valdivia
and Concepcion, which were now the only places in
possession of the invaders. Caupolican determined
instantly to lay siege to them. He appointed Lautaro
his lieutenant-general, and despatched him to defend
the northern frontier. This young chieftain took post
upon the lofty mountain of Mariguena, on the road lead-
ing from the north to the province of Arauco, which it
was supposed the Spanish army would traverse, iſ
they designed to attack Caupolican. This mountain,
which has on several occasions proved fatal to the
Spaniards, has on its summit the wide plain of
Andalican, abounding with trees. Its sides are full
of clefts and precipices; the eastern slope is covered
with an impenetrable thicket, and its rocky base on
the west is beaten by the ocean-surf. A winding
and narrow path, on the north, is the only road leading
to the summit of the mountain.
The chief command of the Spaniards devolved
upon Francisco Villagram. This general, having col-
lected a considerable army, in which were included a
number of auxiliary Indians, began his march for
Arauco. He crossed the Biobio without opposition;
but a short distance farther south, in a narrow pass,

CAU Polic-N. 53
he encountered an advanced body of Araucanians,
despatched by Lautaro, to harass him on his ap-
proach. After a severe action of three hours, the
natives retreated, fighting, toward the summit of the
mountain, where the main body had fortified them-
selves by a strong palisade. The Spaniards began
the attack with three squadrons of cavalry, which
attempted to force the difficult passage of the moun-
tain. This body, after great labor, arrived within a
short distance of the summit, when they were greeted
with a shower of stones, arrows, and other missiles,"
which brought them to a stand. Lautaro, finding the
enemy in check, despatched several parties to the right
and left, with the design of surrounding the assail-
ants. Villagran, seeing his danger, ordered up his
musketeers, and opened a general fire from the in-
fantry and six field-pieces, which he had now brought
to bear on the Indian camp. The battle raged
fiercely; the mountain was covered with smoke, and
echoed with the roar of the fire-arms; the shot flew
thick around them, but the Araucanians bravely main-
tained their post.
The advantage of fire-arms, however, being exclu-
sively on the side of the Spaniards, the effects soon
began to be felt. The incessant cannonade made a
serious slaughter in the camp; and Lautaro, perceiv-
ing that the chief execution was performed by the
artillery, determined upon a bold attempt to capture
it. He selected one of his bravest officers, named
Leucoton, and ordered him to advance with his com-
pany, upon the field-pieces, and not presume to see
him again till he had made himself master of them.

54 CAUPolican-
The intrepid officer obeyed the desperate order, and
rushed, with his troops, so fiercely upon the enemy,
that, after a bloody conflict, he brought off the cannon
in triumph.
At the moment of his attack, Lautaro made a diver-
sion in his favor, by a general assault with all his
troops. Horse and foot fled in confusion before him,
and the rout of the Spaniards became general. Three
thousand, including the Indian allies, were left dead
upon the field. Villagram, thrown from his horse,
was on the point of being made prisoner, when he
was rescued by the heroic exertions of three of his
men. As the routed fugitives attempted to issue from
the narrow defile in which the battle had commenced,
they found it barricaded with trunks of trees hastily
felled by their enemies; and here the conflict was
renewed with the utmost fury. Despair gave new
energy to the exhausted Spaniards, and, by incredible
exertions, they succeeded in forcing a passage at the
moment when they seemed about to be cut off to the
last man. But a small number escaped the close pursuit
of the Araucanians; and, on their arrival at Concep-
cion, the terror spread among the inhabitants was so
great, that Villagran found it impossible to defend the
city. He therefore immediately evacuated the place,
and marched for the interior, despatching the aged
men, women and children, to other parts of the coast
in ships.
Lautaro entered Concepcion in triumph, and found
within its walls a very rich booty. The inhabitants
had no time to remove their effects, and the place had
grown very rich by mining and commerce. He set

CAUPOLICAN. 55
fire to the houses, razed the citadel to the foundations,
and took up his march for the south. Such was the
extraordinary victory known in Chilian history as the
battle of Andalican. When we consider the youth
and inexperience of the Araucanian leader, and the
superiority in discipline and weapons of his adver-
saries, we must allow that he exhibited a military
genius which hardly finds a parallel in the most bril-
liant pages of Napoleon's story.
In the mean time, Caupolican was pressing the
siege of Imperial and Valdivia, against which places
he had marched immediately after the victory of
Tucapel. Villagram, on abandoming Concepcion,
found himself at the head of a sufficient force to raise
the siege of these cities; and Caupolican withdrew
his troops to join Lautaro. The Spaniards ravaged
the whole country wherever they marched, burning
the houses and crops of the Indians, and transporting
to the above places whatever provisions could be car-
ried off. To these calamities was added the small-
pox, which suddenly broke out among the Spaniards,
and soon communicated itself to the natives. Thou-
sands of them fell victims to this pestilence, and some
districts were wholly depopulated by it.
Caupolican remained inactive for sometime, watch-
ing for an opportunity of striking a blow. At length,
having learned that the Spaniards had rebuilt a
strong fortification at Concepcion, and taken post
there in considerable numbers, he despatched two
thousand men, under Lautaro, against it. This chief-
tain, crossing the Biobío, found the Spanish army
drawn up in the plain before the city, awaiting his
56 C-UPOLICAN.
approach. He attacked them so furiously, that, at the
first shock, they took to flight, and escaped to the for-
tress with such precipitation that they did not shut the
gate behind them. The Araucanians entered the
place, killing a great number. The Spaniards were
completely dispersed; part escaped to sea in vessels,
and the remainder took refuge in the woods. Lautaro
a second time plundered and burnt Concepcion, and
marched off laden with spoil.
Encouraged by this success, Caupolican again laid
siege to Imperial and Valdivia, while Lautaro marched
against Santiago, where the Spaniards had formed a
large settlement. With six hundred men Lautaro
traversed the provinces lying between the Biobío and
the Maule; but, after passing the latter stream, he per-
mitted certain acts of severity against the native inhab-
itants, which diminished his reputation for prudence
and sagacity. This territory was occupied by the Pro-
maucians, who had sided with the Spaniards in the
hostilities which had taken place. Lautaro now had
it in his power, by acts of ſorbearance and kindness,
to detach them from the Spanish interest; but he
shut his eyes to this advantage, and, obeying only the
impulses of a revengeful spirit, laid waste their lands
and confirmed them in their hostility to the Arauca-
nians. His subsequent behavior also exhibited less
of that extraordinary boldness and decision which
marked the early part of his career. Instead of
advancing rapidly upon Santiago, and striking a panic
into the enemy by a sudden attack, he fortified him-
self with his small force on the banks of the Rio
Claro, whether to gain time for learning the state of
-


cauroucan. 57
the country he was invading, or to await reinforce-
ments, we cannot say. This delay saved the city.
The panic occasioned in Santiago at the first intel-
ligence of his approach, was soon over, and the in-
habitants had time to prepare for their defence.
The Spaniards raised a considerable force, and ad-
vanced to attack Lautaro in his intrenchments. Sev-
eral assaults were made, which resulted in the defeat
of the Spaniards, and they pitched their camp in a
low meadow in the neighborhood. Lautaro planned
a scheme for inundating them, by turning the branch
of a river upon the meadow, which he would have
accomplished with success had not the design been
discovered by a spy. The Spaniards immediately
broke up their camp and returned to Santiago.
That city was now again thrown into alarm, and had
the Araucanians advanced rapidly on the heels of the
retreating army, the place might have been captured;
but Lautaro did not move from his post. The Span-
iards now raised additional forces, and Villagram put
himself at their head. Having been taught a lesson
of prudence by the disaster of Andalican, he proceeded
on his march with the utmost caution, abandoning
the main road, and taking a circuitous route by the
sea-shore to fall upon the enemy by surprise. Fa-
vored by the darkness of night and the guidance of
an intelligent spy, the Spaniards approached the
Araucanian intrenchments undiscovered, and at break
of day fell upon them with a sudden and impetuous
attack. Lautaro had at that moment retired to rest,
having been on guard, as was his custom, during the
night. The instant the alarm was given by the sen-

5S CAUPOLICAN.
tinels, he leaped from his bed and ran to the spot
assailed by the enemy. Scarcely had he reached
the wall, when a dart, hurled by one of the Indian
auxiliaries, struck him in the breast, and he fell life-
less into the arms of his companions.
Notwithstanding the loss of their leader, the Arau-
canians fought with desperation; but the assailants
overwhelming them with numbers, they were driven
into an angle of the fort, where they refused to sur-
render, though the Spaniards offered them quarter.
They fought with such obstimacy as to throw them-
selves on the lances of their enemies, and perished to
the last man. Such was the end of this heroic band
of Americans, and their gallant chief, Lautaro, who,
at the age of nineteen, had exhibited the military tal-
ents of a veteran.
Caupolican, on receiving the intelligence of this
melancholy disaster, immediately raised the siege of
Imperial, although that place was on the point of
surrendering, and withdrew to the frontier. This
was in the year 1556. Active military operations
were suspended for some time; but, in April of the
following year, a powerful armament of ten ships
arrived at Concepcion, under the command of Don
Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza. A negotiation was
opened with the Araucanians, but the sagacious na-
tives did not suffer themselves to be cajoled by the
diplomatic arts of the Spaniards. Finding that noth-
ing could be done by intrigue, Mendoza took pos-
session of Mount Penco, which overlooks the plain
of Concepcion, and erected upon it a strong fortress,
with a ditch and a large number of heavy cannon.

cau-L1--N- 59
Caupolican, who was encamped south of the Biobio,
waiting for the moment to begin hostilities, immedi-
ately began his march. He crossed the river on the
ninth of August, and at dawn of the next day-the
identical day on which the battle of St. Quentin was
gained by the Spanish army in Flanders—he attacked
the fort of Penco with the most determined resolu-
tion. Three sides of the works were assailed at
once. Pioneers marched in front to fill up the ditch
with fascines and logs. The assailants mounted the
parapet and leaped within; but the cannon and mus-
ketry made dreadful havoc, heaping the ditch with
dead bodies. Tucapel, hurried on by his rash bravery,
threw himself into the fort, killing four Spaniards
with his mace, and escaped by leaping over a preci-
pice amid a shower of balls. In the midst of the
attack, a fresh party of Spaniards landed from the
fleet, and placed the Araucanians between two fires.
They, however, obstimately maintained their ground
till noon, when they were compelled, by loss of men
and fatigue, to give over the assault. They fell back
upon the Biobio, the Spaniards not offering to pursue
them.
Here, having refreshed his army for a few days,
Caupolican again advanced against Concepcion, but
learned on his march that the army had just before
received a reinforcement of above three thousand
men. Knowing his own force to be insufficient to
attack so strong an army, he wheeled about and re-
crossed the Biobio. Mendoza took the field against
him, and came up with the Araucanian army as they
were posted on the southern bank of the river. Un-

60 C-UPol-L-N.
der cover of their artillery, the Spaniards crossed the
stream. Caupolican determined to risk the chance
of a battle, and despatched several bodies of light
troops to begin the contest. The Araucanians had
the advantage in the skirmishes that took place, which
encouraged their leader to bring his main body im-
mediately into action. At first they sustained the
conflict with great firmness, but the Spanish artillery
and cavalry at length decided the fortune of the day,
and the Araucanians were routed with great slaugh-
ter.
Mendoza marched into the province of Arauco,
exercising great cruelties upon the inhabitants. Cau-
polican, who at first retreated before him, was so
stung by these atrocities that he turned upon the
Spaniards with the remains of his shattered army.
Another battle was fought, in which the Arau-
canians displayed the most heroic bravery, but were
again defeated. Caupolican was once more obliged
to save himself by flight, but misfortune seemed
only to inspire him with greater courage and activ-
ity. A few days after, we find him attacking the
strong fortress of Canote, which had been recently
built by the Spaniards. After an obstinate assault
of five hours, he found it impossible to carry the
place, and drew off his troops with a design to renew
his attempt by stratagem. He despatched one of his
men to join the Spaniards as a deserter, and obtain
the means for admitting the besiegers into the fort.
But a Spanish Indian in the place, suspecting the
scheme, had the address to discover the whole by
pretending to join in it, and Caupolican's plot was

CAUPOLICAN. 61
thus foiled by a counterplot. The Araucanians were
admitted into the fortress only to be slaughtered; and
Caupolican, who was among the number, barely es-
caped with his life.
The career of this undaunted chief was now rapidly
drawing to a close. Unable to make head against his
enemies, he retreated from post to post, till he found
himself forced to seek an asylum, with his family and
ten of his most faithful soldiers, in the solitudes of the
wilderness. The Spaniards made the most diligent
search for him, sometimes putting the Indians to tor-
ture, and sometimes tempting them with rewards, in
order to discover the place of his retreat. One of
the natives was at length found base enough to be-
tray the defender of his country. A squadron of
cavalry proceeded under the guidance of this traitor,
and at break of day surprised the chief in a thick
wood near Ongolmo. Caupolican with his men made
a desperate resistance, and his wife exhorted him to
die rather than surrender. He suffered himself, how-
ever, to be taken alive.
He was immediately transported to Canote, where
the inhabitants crowded to behold the man whose
name had so long filled them with terror. Reynoso,
the Spanish commander, with a barbarity that has
covered the Spanish name with infamy, even among
the Spaniards, instantly ordered him to be impaled
and shot through with arrows. On hearing his
sentence, Caupolican, without the least change of
countenance, or abatement of his wonted dignity
of manner, replied to the following purport: “My
death will only strengthen the resistance of my coun-

62 Caupo Lican.
trymen and their hatred of the Spanish name. From
my ashes will arise other Caupolicans, who will prove
more fortunate than I have been. If you spare my -
life, I may render you service; but if I am to die,
send me to Spain, that the king may be my judge,
and I may end my days without causing disturbances
in my country.”
This appeal had no effect, and he was led without
delay to execution. A priest, under the pretence
that he had converted the prisoner, hastily adminis-
tered baptism, and, after this mock ceremony, he was
placed on the scaffold. But when he saw the instru-
ment of death, which till then he did not clearly com-
prehend, and a negro prepared to execute him, he
was so exasperated, that, with a furious kick, he hurled
the executioner from the scaffold, exclaiming, “Is
there no sword, nor more worthy hand to take the
life of Caupolican This is not justice; it is base
revenge!" Uttering these words, he was seized by
the attendants and put to death.
Such is the history of the heroic defenders of Chili.
The Spaniards gave way to unbounded exultation
when they found themselves freed from two such
formidable enemies as Caupolican and Lautaro. But
heroism does not fail to excite admiration even in an
enemy. As soon as the terror inspired by the deeds
of these dauntless warriors had ceased with their
lives, the sentiments of hostility gave way to those
of admiration. “Had these men been ours,” says a
Spanish writer, “we should have called them he-
roes!" The Araucanians have never forgotten these
bravest of their countrymen. Their names are, to

C-UPolic-N. 65
this day, celebrated in their heroic songs, and their
actions are proposed as the most glorious model for
the imitation of their youth.
The prodigies of valor and devoted patriotism of
the Chilian warriors, produced a striking effect upon
the Spanish poetry of that period. The memory of
all these events is preserved in Ercilla's Araucana,
which we have already mentioned. A more brilliant
strain of poetry has been poured out on this subject.
by Lope de Vega, whose tragedy of “Arauco Con-
quered," ranks among the very first of his perform-
ances. The theme is indeed a noble one, and
affords room for the development of the grandest
characters, and the most striking contrasts between a
savage and a civilized people. The play is sustained
by the liveliest interest, and is a work of brilliant
imagination. In no other of Lope's works, is it pos-
sible to find passages of poetry equal in richness to
some of these scenes. They would have produced a
still greater effect, had they been more impartial; but
the author thought himself obliged by his patriotism
to give the enemies of Spain a boasting character,
and to represent them as defeated in every battle.
Still, the general impression produced by reading the
work, is an admiration of the vanquished, and horror
at the cruelty of the conquerors.
As the history of the native American has been
little embellished by poetry, and the work in question
is hardly known to American readers, we are induced
to make one or two extracts from the “Arauco Con-
quered.”
After the victories of Tucapel and Andalican, whilst

64 CAUPOLICAN.
the Spaniards are installing Mendoza, the new gover-
nor of Chili, Caupolican celebrates his victory, and
lays his trophies at the feet of the beautiful Fresia,
who, not less valiant than himself, is delighted at
finding, in her lover, the liberator of his country.
Caupolican. Here, beauteous Fresia, rest,
Thy feathered darts resign,
While the bright planet pours a farewell ray,
Gilding the glorious west,
And, as his beams decline,
Tinges with crimson light th' expiring day.
Lo! where the streamlet on its way,
Soft swelling from its source,
Through flower-enamelled meads
Its murmuring water leads,
And in the ocean ends its gentle course:
Here, Fresia, may’st thou lave
Thy limbs, whose whiteness shames the foaming wave;
Unfold in this retreat
Thy beauties, envied by the queen of night;
The gentle stream shall clasp thee in its arms.
Here bathe thy wearied feet;
The flowerets with delight
Shall stoop to dry them, wondering at thy charms;
The trees a verdant shade shall lend;
From many a songster's throat
Shall swell the harmonious note;
The cool stream to thy form shall bend
Its course, and the enamored sands
Shall yield thee jewels for thy beauteous hands.
All that thou sees around,
My Fresia, is thine own;
This realm of Chili is thy noble dower.
Chased from our sacred ground, -
The Spaniard shall for all his crimes atone;
And Charles and Philip's iron reign is o'er;

CAUPOLICAN.
Hideous and stained with gore,
They fly the Araucan sword;
Before their ghastly eyes
Indust Valdivia lies;
while, as a god adored,
My bright ſame, mounting with the sun, extends
where'er the golden orb his glorious journey bends.
Frºsia. Lord of my soul’ my bosom's dream!
To theeyon mountains bend
Their proud, aspiring heads;
The nymphs that haunt this stream,
With roses crown'd, their arms extend,
And yield thee offerings from their flowry beds.
But ah! no verdant tree that spreads
Its blissºl shade, no fountain pure,
No feather'd choir, whose song
Echoes the woods among,
Earth, sea, nor empire, gold nor silver ore,
Could ever to me prove
So rich a treasure as my chieftain's love.
I ask no brighter fame
Than conquest o'er a heart
To whom proud Spain submits her laurelled head;
Before whose honored name
Her glories all depart, and victories are fled!
Her terrors all are spedº
The keenness of the sword,
Her arquebuse, whose breath
Flash'd with the fires of death,
And the fierce steed, bearing his steel-clad lord,
A fearful spectre on our startled shore,
Afright our land no more!
Thy spear hath rent the chain
That bound our Indian soil;
Her yoke, so burthen’d by th’ oppressor's hand,
That has thou spurn'd with fierce disdain;
Hast robb'd the spoiler of his spoil,
1.

66 CAUPOLICAN.
who sought by craft to subjugate thy land.
Now, brighter days expand:
The joys of peace are ours!
Beneath the branching trees,
Our light-swung hammocks answering to the breeze,
Sweet is our sleep among the leafy bowers;
And, as in ancient times, a calm repose
Attends our blest life to its latest close.
The Indians, however, soon receive intelligence
that the Spaniards are advancing against them, and
that their god has predicted the approaching defeat
of his people. The warriors and chiefs now animate
themselves for the combat, by a warlike hymn, of great
beauty and spirit, and of a truly original-character.
At the extremity of the stage, the Spaniards are seen
on the ramparts of a fort, where they have sheltered
themselves. The Araucanians surround their chiefs;
each, in his turn, menaces with vengeance the enemies
of his country; the chiefs reply in chorus, and the
army interrupts the warlike music by acclamations,
shouting the name of their celebrated leader. The
wildness and animation that pervade the whole piece,
transport us at once into the midst of the savage
bands.”
Indian. Hail, chief! twice crown'd by Victory's hands,
Victor o'er proud Valdivia's bands,
Conqueror of haughty Villagram.
The Army, Caupolican!
chorus of Chiefs. New glories wait him with Mendoza's
fall,
Triumph and glory wait our battle-call.
- we have modified in our extract the somewhat liberal para-
phrase of Roscoe, and brought it closer to the original Spanish.

CAUPOLICAN- 67
Indian. The western God, Apo, the Thunderer, comes,
who gave his valiant tribes these fair domains,
Spoil'd by the robbers from the ocean-plains,
Soon, soon, to fill ignoble tombs,
slain by the conqueror of Willagran-
The Army. Caupolican!
chorus. The hero's eye is on thee, tyrant, fly!
No-thou art in his toils and thou must die,
Thou and thine impious, blood-stained clan'
The Army. Caupolican!
caupolican. Wretched Castilians yield,—our victims,
yield:
Fate sits upon our arms;
Trust not your walls and towers;-they cannot shield
Your heads from vengeance now,
Your souls from wild alarms.
Indian. See, vengeance on his brow,
The threatening chief of Araucan.
The Army. Caupolican.
Indian. Twine him another laurel crown,
He strikes the Spanish legions down
The Army. Caupolican:
Tucapel. Bandits whom treachery and the cruel thirst
of glittering dust drove to our hapless shores,
Who boast of honor, while your hands are curst
With chains and tortures nature's self deplores;
In iron bondage would ye crush the free,
The martial tribes of Araucan?
Indian. The hero's eye is on ye, tyrants—fleet
Ye tremble at his glance:
The Army. Caupolicant
Rºugº. Presumptuous madment will ye find
The race of Chili weak and blind,
Tumorous and crouching, like Peruvian slaves?
Mendoza, who thy lying squadrons saves
When Chilian valor wins the battle-field?
Indian Arauco's chief shall make the Spaniard yield
And crown his triumph on Andalican.
The Army. Caupolican
º
º
|ſº sº-
|\s
--
- | | .
º
i


Y CHO AL A. Y.
This individual attained to great celebrity among
the Abipones, a tribe of Paraguay, famous for their
skill in horsemanship, and the wars they maintained
against the Spaniards. He was not a native of this
tribe, but was born of what was called an honora-
ble family among the tribe of the Riikahes. When
a boy he was taught to manage a horse, and soon
became an expert cavalier. A peace having been
established between this tribe and the inhabitants of
Santa Fe, Yehoalay, still a youth, impelled by curios-
ity and a roving disposition, visited that city, and after
a time entered into the service of one of the inhabi-
tants, called Benavides, whose name he took. He
was assiduous in his attempts to learn the Spanish
language; and, after a residence of some length at
Santa Fe, he left that city for Chili, where he enjoyed
more ample means of pursuing his studies. He ap-
pears to have formed a strong attachment to the
Spaniards, and to have possessed sufficient sagacity
to appreciate the superiority of their arts over the
rude barbarism of the aborigines. He remained
some time in Chili, and then established himself at
Mendoza, on the estate of the person with whom he
had travelled from Santa Fe. His employment was
the cultivation of vines.
Although occupied with the peaceful pursuits of
agriculture, Yehoalay, ever mindful of his origin from

70 *Cºlo-Lay.
a tribe of warriors, affected the habits of a soldier,
and never appeared abroad in the fields without a
spear. In the predatory attacks upon the inhabi-
tants of that region, by the Charruas and Pampas,
which not unfrequently happened, he soon distin-
guished himself by his courage; and while his com-
panions were often robbed or murdered in the deserts
of Paraguay, he always escaped by exertions of
bravery and dexterity. Having remained some years
at Mendoza, he became involved in a quarrel with the
person whom he served, respecting the payment of
his wages. This gave him a sudden disgust toward
the Spaniards, and his resentment was inflamed into
rage by being informed that one of them—for a rea-
son which is not assigned—had attempted his life.
Under feelings thus excited, he immediately left the
Spaniards and joined the Abipones.
These Indians were remarkable for their deter-
mined and unflinching hostility to the Spaniards.
Neither the armies nor the priests of the European
invaders could control them. They could neither
be subdued by arms nor conciliated by gifts. They
zealously maintained their liberty—now fighting,
now flying, as circumstances required—for two cen-
turies. Perceiving the great superiority in war,
which the Spaniards possessed over them by means
of their cavalry, they stole the horses from their set-
tlements, and, in the course of fifty years, carried off,
it is said, a hundred thousand of them. They soon
became the most admirable horsemen on the western
continent; and though the number of their warriors
did not exceed a thousand men, they kept the Span-

yclo-L-A- 71
iards in constant terror. They rode over craggy
mountains, crossed wide and rapid streams, and trav-
ersed trackless deserts, full of rushes, thick woods,
marshes, lakes, and swamps slippery with mud, re-
gardless of all impediments. A distance of three
hundred leagues was not an insurmountable obstacle
when the hope of booty or the desire of annoying
their enemies invited them upon an enterprise.
They were accustomed to rush to the assault at
full gallop, brandishing a long spear, pointed at both
ends, that if one should be blunted the other might
be used. Their expertness in horsemanship was
such that they could turn their animals round in circles,
with the utmost swiftness, and retain them perfectly
at command. While the horses were at full speed,
they could suspend their bodies from their backs, and
perform all the dexterous feats of an exhibitor at the
circus. To prevent themselves from being reached
by the shot of the enemy, they would hide entirely
under the horse's belly. By these arts they wearied
and baffled their pursuers, and seemed to make a
mockery of the bullets hurled against them by the
enemy. Their courage, activity, and inappeasable
hatred of the Spaniards were such as to render them
the most formidable enemies encountered by that
nation in all the regions watered by the La Plata.
Their very name was sufficient to strike terror into a
whole settlement. “The Abipones are coming!”
was a cry that would throw the inhabitants of Buenos
Ayres into such consternation that they would run
up and down the city, nearly bereſt of their senses,
and utter the most dismal shrieks and exclama-

72 Y-HO-L-A-
tions, even though the enemy was not in sight. One
of the Spanish commanders declared that if the Abi-
pones were reduced to ten men, it would be necessary
to maintain a guard upon the whole frontier.
At the time that Yehoalay joined this formidable
tribe, they were harassing the territory of Cordova
by daily inroads; and, being eager to pursue their
hostilities, they welcomed his appearance among
them with demonstrations of great satisfaction. Pos-
sessing a tall figure, a hardy frame, and a strength
adequate to all the fatigues of predatory warfare, he
soon distinguished himself among their boldest war-
riors, and was appointed the leader of the whole
band. His shrewdness, activity and bravery were
equalled only by his good fortune. The attacks which
he planned against the Spaniards were always suc-
cessful. Amidst his numerous incursions, he was
observed always to spare the territories of Santa Fe.
where he passed a portion of his life; and he never
took the lives of men devoted to religion, or permitted
his soldiers to do so, although he had not embraced
Christianity. He appears to have been above the
current prejudices and superstitions of his tribe,
never suffering any of the jugglers, common to that
race, to associate with his men.
Although Yehoalay was the chief warrior of the
Abipones, he was not the titular chief of the nation,
The cacique Yehamenraikin exercised the nominal
sovereignty. He had been celebrated for his warlike
actions; but, during the latter part of his life, he fell
into habits of indolence and sensuality, which ren-
dered him a mere useless image of power. Yehoa.

Ycho-L-A-Y. 73
lay, by the force of his character and the ſame of his
exploits, obtained supreme authority in the tribe, and
managed all its affairs. After a long period of war-
fare against the Spaniards, his old attachment for
that people began to revive; the memory of former
wrongs was weakened by the lapse of time, and he
exerted himself to put an end to the strife. By his
exertions a peace was concluded, and Yehoalay, with
a body of Abipones, established themselves at the
Spanish settlement of St. Jeronymo.
At this place a number of Jesuits had taken their
station, for the purpose of converting the natives.
Ychoalay assisted them in their labors with great
zeal. He obliged his men to attend church and re-
ceive baptism. Being solicited by the Jesuits to pro-
ſess Christianity himself, he begged for a respite till
he had slain a rival, Oaherkaikin, who sought to
supersede him in his command, and with whom he
was then at war; but shortly afterwards, having con-
cluded a truce with that chieftain, he became a con-
vert. After his conversion, he totally abandoned his
marauding course of life, and conducted himself in a
manner to win the applause of his spiritual guides.
Ychoalay ever aſter faithfully adhered to the Span-
inrds, and took great pains to prevent the Abipones
from violating the peace, often at the risk of his life.
By his zeal in preserving and recovering the property
of the Spaniards, he incurred the hatred of the other
savage tribes; and many of his own countrymen
regarded him with aversion, as a partisan of the
Spaniards and an enemy to their own race. This
caused him to utter the daily complaint: “My coun-
74 YCHOALAY-
trymen think me wicked, now, because I am good:
formerly they called me good because I was wicked!”
The history of the Jesuit missions in Paraguay is
full of the exploits of Ychoalay, and the services ren-
dered by him to the Spanish colonists. We find
him constantly engaged in expeditions against hostile
tribes of Indians who attacked the missionary stations
and the frontier towns. The preservation of many
of these places is ascribed solely to his exertions.
He was evidently a man of superior abilities, and
entitled to distinguished notice in the history of his
own race. Of his death we have no account; but
he appears to have lived to a good old age. He was
still living in 1768.

TUPAC AMA R U.
It is a remarkable fact, though perhaps not famil-
iar to the general reader, that, in the latter part of the
eighteenth century, while the British North Ameri-
can colonies were engaged in the war for their inde-
pendence, a bloody and desperate struggle for freedom
was raging in the South, between the Indians of Peru
and their Spanish masters. This portion of South
American history is intimately connected with the
name and achievements of Tupac Amaru, the great
leader of the insurrection, and a martyr to the cause
of Peruvian liberty. Such has been the jealous cau-
tion of the court of Spain in guarding the secrets of
their government in the New World, that it is only
within a few years that the particulars of this inter-
esting event have been made known beyond the limits
of Peru.
Tupac Amaru was the son of a Spaniard, but his
mother was a Peruvian, descended in a direct line
from Tupac Amaru, the last of the Incas, who was
put to death by the Spaniards during Pizarro's con-
quest. His Spanish name was José Gabriel Condor-
canqui. One of his ancestors, Sayri Tupac, had been
made Marquis of Oropesa, but the dignity subse-
quently became vacant. The subject of our notice
bore his father's name in the early part of his life,
and it was only when he came to maturer years that
he assumed that of his ancestor, the Inca. We have



76 Tu-c A-tº-
few particulars of his early life, and can learn little
more than that he passed a few years in study at the
colleges of Cuzco and Lima, where he gained a very
imperfect education. We are told that he was distin-
guished for a noble and commanding figure, intrepidity,
firmness, ardent passions and a mind capable of vast
designs. It was indeed a scheme of no common
magnitude which he undertook—torouse the dormant
patriotism and national spirit of the Peruvians from a
sleep of three centuries.
He first obtained notoriety among his countrymen
by his endeavors to obtain the vacant marquisate of
Oropesa, to which he advanced a claim before the court
of Lima. In prosecuting his demand he assumed the
name of Tupac Amaru, substantiated his descent from
Manco Capac, and thereby fixed the general notice
of the Peruvians. His claims were rejected by the
court, but the descendant of the ancient Incas had
gained the reputation and influence necessary to fur-
ther his grand design of delivering his countrymen
from the tyranny of their oppressors. Finding him-
self in a situation to commence his great undertaking,
he began by endeavoring to procure some alleviation
of the intolerable burdens under which the Peruvians
groaned. In this design he had the address to obtain
the assistance of the bishop of Cuzco and several other
dignitaries of the church, who, from motives of jus-
tice and philanthropy, were persuaded to use their
influence with the government in behalf of the op-
pressed Indians. The ſame of these novel proceed-
ings, and the exertions of Tupac Amaru in awaking
his countrymen to a sense of their degraded situation,

T-UPAC AMARU. 77
at length aroused them from their supineness. The
prospect of a change in their condition inspired them
with new life, and they exhibited such demonstrations
as gave great alarm to many people in Peru. The
Spanish court, apprehending that a fearful political
crisis was impending, showed themselves inclined to
grant the requests made by the friends of the Indians,
and ordered that two persons, of authority and experi-
ence in the government of Peru, should be sent to
Spain to aid them with their advice in the matter.
Two Peruvians, of high rank, Don Ventura Santelices
and Don Blas Tupac Amaru, accordingly sailed for
Spain. But the scheme was foiled by the treachery
of the party hostile to the Indians. Both envoys per-
ished by assassination—the one at Madrid, and the
other on his return to Peru, and with them expired
the entire project.
This misfortune, however, did not discourage Tupac
Amaru. Finding the whole burden of the undertak-
ing thrown upon his own shoulders, he redoubled his
exertions, which at first only drew upon him the ani-
mosity of the provincial governors. Stubborn in their
opposition to every attempt for the relief of the
Indians, these petty despots endeavored to crush the
spirit of resistance which they saw rising in this
injured race, by a more severe system of oppression
and tyranny. But the obstimacy of the oppressors
encountered a more determined resolution on the
part of the injured people. Maddened by this cruel
and insulting addition to their unparalleled wrongs,
they no longer held the language or pursued the steps
of moderation. The cry of “liberty and vengeance!”

78 Tupac -----
was raised, and, in September, 1780, the Indians of
Peru rushed to arms and raised the standard of insur-
rection.
The first fury of their vindictive spirit was directed
against the Corregidor of Tinta, Don Antonio Arri-
aga, long an object of hatred and detestation to the
Indians for his rapacious cruelties. A body of Peru-
vians, headed by Tupac Amaru, made him prisoner.
A court was organized for his trial, and he was
arraigned and condemned as a public robber, at Tunja
Tuca. On the 10th of November, he was executed
on the gallows, in the name of the king of Spain. It
was the policy of Tupac Amaru, in the beginning of
the insurrection, to temporize with the Spanish gov-
ernment, in order to strengthen his party, and lull the
royal authorities into security, by giving his proceed-
ings the appearance of a merely temporary and local
tumult, which had no ultimate design beyond that of
displacing an unpopular magistrate and correcting an
abuse in the government. With this view, the most
odious forms of taxation and servitude were declared
to be abolished, but nothing was said of disclaiming
the authority of the king of Spain.
Tupac's adherents increased in number every day,
and he soon found himself strong enough to march
into the province of Quispicancha, where he designed
to wreak his vengeance upon the Corregidor Cabrera,
a man equally odious with Arriaga. Cabrera took
the alarm, and saved himself by flight, leaving his
magazines and treasures a prize to the Indians. The
insurrection spread from province to province. The
eity of Cuzco was thrown into consternation, and soon
Tupac AMARU- 79

beheld an army of Indians approaching. A body of
six hundred men marched out to oppose them, but
they were attacked, defeated and driven into a church
without the walls, where, after an obstinate defence,
the explosion of their powder magazine blew open the
walls, and obliged them to rush desperately into the
ranks of their enemies. They all fell, sword in hand,
with the exception of about sixty.
Flushed with this victory, Tupac Amaru now
threw off the mask and discarded the king's author-
ity. He declared himself Inca of Peru, and caused
himself to be crowned with the borla, or ancient dia-
dem of the empire. Everywhere among the Indians
this event was greeted with unbounded acclamations.
Tupac Amaru was hailed as the deliverer of Peru;
the Peruvian nation awoke from a long sleep, and,
to the surprise and astonishment of their tyrannical
masters, showed that their national spirit was not
extinct, but had waited, for above three centuries, for
an opportunity to raise the cry of freedom.
Cuzco was immediately attacked, but the Indians,
poorly armed and without discipline or military skill,
could effect nothing against its walls. They next
directed their efforts upon the important town of
Puno, the only obstacle in their way to the rich and
populous city of La Paz. Eighteen thousand Indians
took possession of the hills which surround Puno,
and made a desperate attack on the place. But their
overwhelming numbers were ineffectual against the
defences of Puno and the military superiority of the
Spaniards. Repulsed from this post, they turned
aside and poured themselves like a torrent over the




S0 T-UPAC AMARU.
unprotected province of Chucuito. The Spaniards
remained shut up in their walled towns and fortresses,
while the insurgents traversed the open country with-
out encountering the least resistance. Tupac Amaru
circulated everywhere his manifestoes and proclama-
tions, announcing the independence of Peru, and the
restoration of the empire of the Incas.
It was not to be expected, that, amidst the disorderly
multitudes who now suddenly rose in arms against
their tyrants, success would always be used with mod-
eration, and that the unbridled passions of a semi-bar-
barous people would not at such times run riot in
scenes of violence, bloodshed and rapine. The
wealthy city of Oruro, the capital of a province of
that name, was doomed to feel the deplorable effects
of civil rage. The neighboring districts were in
rebellion; the Indians had killed some of the princi-
pal Spaniards, and had sent their heads to Tupac
Amaru, as tokens of their adhesion to the cause of
independence. The corregidor, fearing an attack
upon the city, raised a body of militia, consisting of
four hundred cholos, or Spaniards with a slight tinc-
ture of Indian blood, who are esteemed the most
robust and active of the whole Peruvian population.
This band of defenders, seeing the rich city of Oruro
completely in their power the moment that arms
should be put into their hands, laid a plot to pillage
the city. The corregidor had not yet armed them, as
no enemy was actually insight. To obtain weapons,
they spread a rumor of a conspiracy among the
European Spaniards to assassinate them, and, the
next night, raised the sudden cry that the insurgents

TUPAC AM-RU- 81
were approaching. Arms were immediately fur-
mished them; on which one division of their body
marched off to a hill in the neighborhood, and
sounded their trumpets as a signal to their associates
in the mines, to rush forward and attack the city.
The inhabitants, lulled into a fatal security by the
profound dissimulation of the garrison, had taken no
precautions against this danger, and Oruro fell at once
into their hands. Bloodshed, pillage, and every spe-
cies of violence, immediately followed. The first
fury of the assailants was directed against the Eu-
ropean Spaniards. Dreading the vindictive spirit of
the natives, they had taken refuge in the house of
one of the wealthiest of their number, and there col-
lected their silver for safe keeping, the house being
strongly fortified. An attack was immediately made
upon it, and the house being set on fire, the occu-
pants were forced out and all put to the sword.
Seven hundred thousand dollars were obtained by
the pillage of the house. All was now riot and
devastation in Oruro. Twenty thousand Indians
from the neighboring provinces, allured by the pros-
pects of rapine, flocked to the place, and for ten days
the fury of the Indians raged without control.
Tupac Amaru had in the mean time reduced his
disorderly bands to some degree of organization and
discipline, and now, finding himself at the head of a
respectable army, took up his march for Cuzco. The
viceroy of Lima raised the whole military force of the
country, but the insurrection was spread over so wide
an extent of territory, that the Spaniards were unable
to concentrate their forces sufficiently to strike a deci-
-

82 Turac anian-tº-
sive blow in any quarter. Tupac marched in impe-
rial state, and caused himself to be received, on his
progress, under a pavilion, with all the pomp and
ostentation of sovereignty. Such was the terror
which his enterprise had struck into the Spaniards,
and so flattering were his prospects of establishing
the independence of Peru, that many of the noblest
citizens of Cuzco joined his party, and offered to
assist him in gaining possession of the city. Tupac,
from the heights of Yauriquez, a short distance from
the place, summoned Cuzco to surrender. Probably,
had he arrived a few days sooner, nothing could have
saved the city; but a short delay accomplished a
material change in the resolutions of his fickle allies.
Several of the Indian caciques led their followers to
the defence of Cuzco; the courage of the inhabitants
received a new stimulant, and, in a battle which took
place under the walls of the city, Tupac's forces were
defeated, and he was compelled to withdraw from the
place.
The affairs of the Peruvians were thrown into fur-
ther confusion by the extravagant conduct of an
Indian, named Juan Apasa. This man, originally a
baker, but courageous, enterprising and unscrupu-
lous, accidentally got possession of some despatches
sent by Tupac Amaru to one of his officers named
Tupa Catari. This last person had just been cap-
tured and put to death by the Spaniards, and Apasa
conceived the bold design of assuming his name and
authority. Accordingly he gave himself out for Tupa
Catari, the viceroy of the Inca. Pushing his preten-
sions to a degree of audacity and success unparalleled

TUPAC AM-RU- S3
in the history of the country, he became a sort of
Peruvian Masaniello, and indulged in almost every
freak of wild and extravagant ambition. He made
the city of La Paz his headquarters, and sent procla-
mations in every direction, commanding the Peruvians
to return to the habits and usages of their forefathers.
He ordered them to hold assemblages on the tops of
the mountains. He forbade them to eat bread, or to
drink water from the springs. He commanded them
to renounce the Christian religion, to burn the
churches, and to put to death every Spaniard, or, in
his own phraseology, everyone who wore a shirt. An
Indian, bearing a proclamation to this effect, made
his appearance at Tinguina, with a rope round his
neck and a knotted cord in his hand, the tokens of
his sanguinary mission. Thrice, in a loud voice, he
called upon the people to gather around him and lis-
ten to his explanation of the mystic symbols. The
halter round his neck denoted that he would be hung
if he departed from the truth. The knotted cordim-
plied that, as he was prohibited from unloosing it on
his way, so it was unlawful for him to open before
the time the message of his Inca. Having made
these announcements, he untied the mysterious cord,
and proclaimed, in the name of Tupa Catari, a per-
emptory decree, declaring his new authority, and
commanding the instant execution of the Spaniards.
The Indians raised a tumultuous shout, and ran to
fulfil the sanguinary orders. The Spaniards took
shelter in the church, where they were attacked by
the Indians. They stood bravely on their defence,
but here, as in other places, the church was set on

84 TUPAC AMA-U.
fire, and the Spaniards were forced out and all mas-
sacred.
Tupac Amaru had no power to check these and
other excesses with which the insurrectionary career
of the Peruvians was stained. At the head of a large
army, he occupied the highlands, from which he
despatched parties to make incursions against the
enemy. Had he confined himself to this mode of
warfare, he would probably have succeeded in wast-
ing their forces by a constant series of harassing
attacks, and in this manner the revolt of the Peruvi-
ans might have been brought to a successful issue.
But, either from want of sagacity, or an inability to
restrain the ardent and adventurous spirit of his fol-
lowers, he allowed himself to be forced to a pitched
battle in the open plain, where the superior numbers
of his men could avail nothing against the arms, the
discipline, and the skill of European troops. At
Tungasuca the Peruvians encountered an army of
sixteen thousand Spaniards, and, at the end of an
obstinate conflict, were entirely defeated, leaving the
field of battle covered with their dead.
Tupac Amaru, after escaping from the field where
his army had been routed, was made prisoner by the
Spaniards, together with his wife and family. He
was immediately put upon trial and tortured to com-
pel him to disclose his accomplices. “I have only
two accomplices,” was his reply, “myself and you:
you, in robbing the people, and I, in endeavoring to
prevent you.” It is needless to say, that he was con-
demned to death. The mode of his execution is
characteristic of Spanish justice in America. His
TUI-C --L--U. S5
wife, children and kindred were first put to death
before his eyes. After this, his tongue was plucked
out by the hangman, and he was then torn asunder,
limb from limbº by four wild horses. Thus fell the
brave and heroic leader of the Peruvians, in their
first attempt to throw off the yoke of the Spanish
tyrants. Since the foundation of the empire of the
Incas, Peru has no nobler name than Tupac Amaru.
It does not fall within the limits of this work to
record the whole history of the Peruvian insurrec-
tion, which abounds with events of the deepest inter-
est. After a bloody struggle for two years, during
which one third of the entire population of Peru per-
ished by the hand of violence, the revolt was sup-
pressed. Twenty years afterwards the historian
Funes saw the plains of Sicasica and Calamaca, for
forty miles in extent, covered with heaps of unburied
bones, lying in the plains where the wretched Indians
fell, to bleach in the tropical sun. The tyrannical
oppression of this unfortunate race was renewed with
additional severity, and continued till the general
revolt of Spanish America early in the present cen-
tury.

–ſº º W!
--
Q-U-T-Z-L-CoAT-


QUETZ ALCO AT L.
The earliest traditions of the American Indians pre-
sent us the names of certain remarkable personages, to
whom they referred the origin of their civilization.
Their histories are all more or less obscured by fable,
and a sceptical inquirer might assign their existence
to the regions of mythology. While the inhabitants
of the western continent are still in their original
state of barbarism, these mysterious persons arise
among them, and, by the exercise of some unknown
influence, acquire such a degree of power over their
minds as to turn them from the savage state, and im-
plant in their communities the germ of civilized life.
These important events are not always detailed with
distinctness, and the real facts are often embellished
with accounts that are allied to the marvellous. Men
with beards and with clearer complexions than the
rest of the people, make their appearance among the
mountains of Anahuac, on the plain of Cundinamarca,
and in the elevated regions of Cuzco, without any
indications of the place of their birth. These strange
beings, bearing the title of high priests, of legislators,
and of the friends of peace and the arts, are received
with veneration by the natives, who submit implicitly
to their authority. Manco Capac is the lawgiver of
Peru. Bochica presents himself on the high plateaus
of Bogota, where he acquires authority among the
Muyscas; but of this individual we have hardly any

SS QUETZALC0ATL.
distinct account, beyond the simple fact that he came
from the savannas that extend along the east of the
great mountain ridge of the Cordilleras.
Quetzalcoatl, who performs a similar part among
the tribes which afterward constituted the Mexican
empire, is said to have appeared first at Panuco, on
the shore of the Gulf of Mexico, clothed in a black
sacerdotal robe. He was a white and bearded man,
and became high priest and chief magistrate of Tula.
He established a religious sect, the members of which,
like the ſamatics of Hindostan, inflicted on themselves
the most cruel penances. He introduced the custom
of boring the lips and ears, and of lacerating and
mangling the body. He led the life of a hermit, and
his chosen place of retirement was the volcano of
Catzitepetl, where he walked barefooted on the prickly
leaves of the agare. The reign of Quetzalcoatl was
the golden age of the people of Anahuac. All the
classic fables of the Saturnian times are imitated in
the descriptions of this period. Men and animals
lived in peace; the earth, unassisted by the labor of
man, brought forth the most fruitful harvests, and the
air was filled with multitudes of birds, admirable both
for the melody of their songs and the magnificence of
their plumage. But this delightful state of things
was not of long duration. The great spirit, Tezcatli-
poca, offered Quetzalcoatl a cup of drink, which ren-
dered him immortal, but at the same time inspired
him with a desire for roaming. He had heard of a
distant country, called Tlapallan, and set out in search
of it. With his departure all things began to dete-
riorate.

QUETzalcoa TL. S9
Quetzalcoatl directed his journey, at first, to the
southeast, and then easterly, though we are not inform-
ed of the locality of the territory of Tlapallan. In pass-
ing through the country of Cholula, he was solicited by
the inhabitants to remain among them, and he became
their ruler. He stayed twenty years in this quarter,
taught the people various arts, among others that of
casting metals, instituted fasts, and regulated the in-
tercalations of the Toltec year. He preached peace
to man, and permitted no other offerings to the Deity
than the first fruits of the harvest. After leaving
Cholula he passed on to the mouth of the river Goa-
sacoalco, in the bay of Campeachy, where he disap-
peared, having promised the Cholulans that he would
return in a short time and confirm their happiness.
Quetzalcoatl was afterwards deified, and the great
pyramid of Cholula had an altar on its summit dedi-
cated to him as god of the air.
The name Quetzalcoatl signifies, in the Mexican
language, “Feathered Serpent.” The Mexican pic-
tures and statues represent him as tall and stout,
with a fair complexion, open forehead, large eyes,
long black hair, and thick beard. His dress is com-
monly a long robe. As in the history of the demi-
gods and heroes of Greece, the facts of his life are
overlaid by mythological fictions; yet there is no good
reason to doubt his real existence. A Spanish writer
has maintained that he was no other than the apostle
St. Thomas, who preached Christianity in India, and
from thence might have passed to America. It is
remarkable that the image of the cross is plainly dis-
cernible in the sculptures of Palenque; and persons,
90 QUETZALCOATL.
apparently priests, are represented as making offerings
to this symbol of Christianity. Yet the mission of
St. Thomas to America must be regarded as the mere
suggestion of an enthusiastic fancy.


X-O L OTL.
Xolotl, king of the Chechemecans, flourished in
the twelfth century. The Chechemecans inhabited
originally the country north of Mexico. Their man-
ners blended a certain degree of civilization with
many traits of barbarism. They had distinctions of
rank and settled habitations, but were not an agricul-
tural people. Their religion was the simple worship
of the sun.
By the death of his father, the government of the
kingdom was bequeathed to Xolotl, jointly with his
brother Achcantli. But the former, being dissatisfied
with a divided authority, determined to seek for
another territory, where he might reign without a
rival. He despatched emissaries in different direc-
tions, to explore the country, and learnt from them
that a desirable situation offered itself in the south.
He accordingly collected a large number of people,
and set out on his expedition. Proceeding gradually
to the south, in about a year and a half they reached
the land of Anahuac, where the empire of Mexico
was afterwards founded. This territory had been
previously peopled by the Toltecs, a nation which,
like the Chechemecans, had migrated from the north.
The Toltecs had become a great people, and built nu-
merous large cities, but a terrible pestilence swept
away the greater part of the inhabitants, and the re-

92 Xolot.
mainder dispersed themselves among the neighboring
nations.
When Xolotl and his attendants reached this coun-
try, it had been solitary and waste for nearly a cen-
tury. They halted about forty miles north of the
lake of Mexico. From this place Xolotl sent the
prince Nopaltzin, his son, to survey the neighborhood.
He visited the lake, and traversed the heights which
surround the beautiful vale of Mexico. He was so
charmed with the delightful appearance of the coun-
try, that he took formal possession of the whole region,
in the name of his father, by going to the top of a
lofty mountain, and shooting four arrows toward the
four quarters of the sky. Xolotl determined to re-
main here and form a permanent settlement. At
Tenayuca, six miles north of Mexico, he ordered an
enumeration of the people to be made, by each man
throwing a stone into a heap. Twelve piles of the
stones remain there to this day.
Xolotl built a city at Tenayuca and established his
court there. He sent explorers to discover the
sources of the rivers which traversed the country.
These persons found, scattered aboutin different parts,
a few Toltec families, from whom they learnt the cause
of the desolation of the country. The new commu-
nity was soon augmented by the arrival of other emi-
grants from the north, and before long it became a
flourishing kingdom. At the marriage of one of the
sons of Xolotl, an entertainment was given at Tena-
yuca, which lasted for sixty days; it consisted of
shows of wrestling, racing, combats of wild beasts,
and other rude sports characteristic of a barbarous

-o-Lo-T- 93
people. The civilization of the Chechemecans, how-
ever, advanced much more rapidly than that of the sur-
rounding nations, and the kingdom of Xolotl became
celebrated to such a degree as to gain constant acces-
sions of inhabitants from the neighboring states.
The reign of Xolotl was mild and equitable. Al-
though he possessed enterprise, decision and energy
of character sufficient to enable him to found a power-
ful kingdom, he governed his subjects with a clem-
ency which at last degenerated to a fault. The latter
part of his reign was disturbed by the insubordination
and turbulence of a portion of his people. He was
harassed by obstructions thrown in the way of his
authority, and at length a plot was laid to take his
life. An opportunity soon offered. The king had
been making preparations to increase the waters of
his garden, where he was accustomed to sleep and
recreate himself in the afternoon, in the cool shades of
the trees. Taking advantage of this circumstance,
the conspirators secretly dammed up the river that
crossed the city, and, aided by the works prepared by
the king, let the water at once into the garden, and
overflowed it. Xolotl, however, had secret intelli-
gence of the conspiracy. On the day appointed for
the act, he went as usual into the garden, and the
conspirators, being on the watch, imagined that they
had secured their victim; but the king, instead of lying
down to rest in the arbor where he had been accus-
tomed to repose, betook himself to a loſſy mound,
where he was in no danger. On a sudden the inun-
dation burst in and flooded the garden. “Ah!”
exclaimed he, “what liberal subjects have I? I
94 -o-o-TL.
wished for a mouthful of water, and they give me a
whole cataract!” Preserving the same spirit, he
ordered public rejoicings for this act of munificence
on the part of his friends. Such is one instance of
his mistaken clemency.
Xolotl died after a reign of about forty years. He
was a man of courage and resolution, yet mild and
equitable in his administration. He is, moreover,
celebrated for the affectionate disposition which he
manifested in private life. His corpse lay in state, for
five days, on a bier made of gum copal and aromatic
substances, and decked with gold ornaments; after
which it was burnt, according to the custom of the
Chechemecans, and the ashes were collected in an
urn and deposited in a cave.



A CAM APITZIN,
F-1 as T. RI-N-G or M. E. x1 Co.
The government of Mexico was aristocratical till
the year 1352, the supreme authority being exercised
by a council composed of persons most eminent for their
wisdom and influence. At the foundation of the city,
the number of these was twenty, the chief of whom
was Tenoch, as appears from the Mexican paintings.
The weak and humble state in which the people felt
themselves, on account of the trouble their neighbors
gave them, and the example of the Chechemecans, the
Tepanecans, and the Colhuans, induced them to erect
their little state into a monarchy—hoping that the
royal authority would throw a degree of splendor on
the whole body of the nation, and also flattering them-
selves that the election of a king would secure to
them an able general, to defend them against their
enemies. The choice fell by common consent on
Acamapitzin.
This individual was one of the most prominent
among them for his knowledge and prudence. He
was the son of Opochtli, a noble Aztec, and Atozotzli,
a princess of the royal family of Colhuacan. Being
unmarried, he sought a wife among the first families
of Anahuac, and sent successive embassies to the
sovereigns of Tacuba and Azcapozalco; but in both
quarters his advances were rejected with disdain.


96 ACA-LAPITZIN.
Aristocratical pride and the scruples of etiquette are
not, it seems, confined to the higher degrees of civili-
zation. The new king of Mexico was more success-
ful with the chief of Coatlichan, who gave him his
daughter in marriage, and the wedding was celebrated
at Mexico with the greatest rejoicings.
The Tlatelolcos, neighbors and rivals of the Mexi-
cans, and who were constantly observing what was
going on among them, thought it incumbent upon
them to imitate their example, that they might not be
surpassed in glory and military power by their com-
petitors. Being unable to make an advantageous
selection of a sovereign from their own nation, they
requested of the king of Tepaneca, who exercised a
sort of feudal sovereignty over the territory of the
Mexicans, one of his sons to reign over them. That
monarch complied with their request, and Quaquan-
pitzahuac was crowned first king of Tlatelolco, in
1353. It was judged that the Tlatelolcos, by this
movement, had the ultimate design to flatter the king
of Tepaneca, and incense him against their rivals.
They declaimed against the presumption and inso-
lence of the Mexicans, increating a king without his
permission, and urged so many arguments on this
point, that the Tepanecan monarch was soon wrought
up to a hostile feeling against the Mexicans, and de-
termined to harass them as Pharaoh did the Israel-
ites, by the imposition of heavy tasks and burthens.
The Mexicans, till that period, had paid only a
small tribute of fish and water-fowl. This tribute
was now doubled, in addition to which, they were
required to transport many thousands of trees, to be set

--M.-P. Tº-N- 97
in the gardens, parks and roads of Tepaneca. They
were also ordered to construct a great floating garden
on the lake of Mexico.
It appears that gardens of this description were
found here by the Spanish conquerors, and were
viewed by them with admiration. They were con-
structed by plaiting and twisting willows, and roots of
marsh plants, and other light but strong materials,
together, so as to form a secure flooring. On this
foundation, they laid the light bushes which float on
the lake, and, above these, a layer of mud, drawn from
the bottom of the lake. On the top of the whole was
placed a stratum of dry soil. On these artificial terri-
tories, the Mexicans cultivated all sorts of vegetables
for food, and also fields of maize. As the industry of
the people increased, these floating gardens became
very numerous, and many of them were beauti-
fully ornamented with beds of flowers, odoriferous
plants, summer-houses and arbors for the recreation
of the nobles. Long after their conquest, the Mexicans
continued the use of these floating gardens. Every
day of the year, innumerable boats from them, loaded
with various kinds of herbs and flowers, were seen
arriving by the canal at the great market of Mexico.
Some of the gardens even contained trees which
afforded a shade to the inhabitants; and all were
towed about the lake by boats, according as the owner
wished to change his neighborhood.
The Mexicans constructed the garden, and paid the
additional tribute demanded by the king of Tepaneca.
The next year, an additional burthen was imposed
on them. They were too weak to resist their task-
º


9S ------------
masters, and still submitted. Notwithstanding these
oppressions, their state continued to flourish under
the administration of Acamapitzin. The population
increased, buildings of stone were erected, and the
canals, which proved so serviceable to the city, were
constructed. Acamapitzin governed Mexico in peace
for thirty-seven years. Finding his end approaching,
he called his chief officers around him, and, after
exhorting them to a continuance of their zeal for the
public good, recommending to their care his wives
and children, and declaring the deep pain it gave him
to reflect that he left his people tributary to the Te-
panecans; he stated that, as he had received the crown
from their hands, he surrendered it to them again, in
order that it might be bestowed on the most worthy.
He died in the year 1389, greatly lamented by the
Mexicans, who celebrated his obsequies with all the
magnificence they could exhibit.
Acamapitzin had many wives, though only two of
them were honored with the name of queen. Two of
his sons, Iluitzithuitl and Chimalpopoca, afterwards
became kings of Mexico. The subjection of the
Mexicans to the Tepanecans lasted for fifty years,
during which time Mexico continued to be governed
by a line of kings chosen by election, much in the
same manner as the sovereigns of Poland were elected
by the diet of that kingdom.
º

M O N T E Z U M A. I.
In the reign of Itzcoatl, the fourth king of Mexico,
a young man of the royal race, named Montezuma
Ilhuicamina, began to attract notice for his shining
qualities. His surname of Ilhuicamina signified
* Archer of Heaven,” and in the ancient Mexican
paintings he is represented with an arrow piercing the
sky. He also obtained the appellation of Tlacaele, or
* Great Heart.” His invincible courage and strength
of body were the theme of unbounded admiration
among his countrymen, who naturally set a high
value upon qualities so very useful in the state of per-
petual hostilities that distinguish the early Mexican
annals.
The first mention we find of Montezuma in the
Mexican histories, is immediately after the conquest
of Tezcuco by Itzcoatl, when he was sent on a diffi-
cult and dangerous embassy by the Mexican king.
On his return, he had the ill-fortune to fall into an
ambuscade of his enemies, who took him, and all his
attendants, prisoners, and conducted them to Chalco,
where they were delivered into the hands of Toteotzin,
the chief of that city, and an inveterate enemy of the
Mexicans. They were confined in a close prison,
under the care of an officer named Quateotzin, who
received strict orders to keep them on short allowance
of provisions, the amount of which was prescribed,
until the mode of putting them to death should be
- -
---
- --
--- ---
- - - -
:
:
:
--
- - -

100 MonTEzu-1A 1.
-
determined. Quateotzin had more humanity than his
master, and ventured to disobey him. He supplied
his prisoners liberally with food, and saved them from
famishing. After along detention, Toteotzin decided,
as the most profitable way of disposing of his pris-
oners, to deliver them over to the Huetzozincans, to be
sacrificed on their altars, according to the bloody rites
of the nations of Anahuac, who studied to conciliate
the god of war by human sacrifices. Montezuma
and his companions were accordingly sent, under a
strong escort, to the city of Huexotzinco. But the
inhabitants of this place, amidst all their barbarism,
were not without a sentiment of honor and humanity.
“Why," said they, “should we put men to death who
have committed no other crime than that of serving
their country? And even if they deserve to die,
what honor can we obtain by taking the lives of pris-
oners whom we never captured? Go back to your
master,” said they to the officers of Toteotzin, “and
inform him that the people of Huexotzinco will not
disgrace themselves by a deed so infamous.”
The prisoners were accordingly reconducted to
Chalco. But Toteotzin, far from being touched by the
magnanimous conduct of his neighbors, fell upon
another expedient to turn his prize to account. He
had incurred the enmity of Maxtlaton, the tyrant of
the Tepanecans, by his inconstancy and treachery in
abandoming the cause of that monarch at a critical
conjuncture. He now indulged a hope of conciliating
him by placing at his disposal Montezuma and his
friends, against whom the tyrant was known to enter-
tain the most vindictive feelings. He accordingly

Montezuma 1. 101
sent him information of the capture of these persons,
and offered to receive his orders as to any fate he
chose to assign them. While he awaited the answer,
he directed the Mexicans to be shut up closely, as
before, under the superintendence of the same Qua-
teotzin, whose disobedience of his orders, it appears,
he had never discovered.
Quateotzin, naturally humane and generous, had
become strongly attached to Montezuma by observing
the noble qualities which his prisoner displayed
during his captivity. Having the strongest reason
to apprehend that Maxtlaton would not hesitate to
consign the Mexicans to a cruel death, he formed the
heroic and gallant resolution to rescue them from
their fate at the hazard of his own life. On the even-
ing preceding the day on which the messengers
were expected to return, he informed Montezuma of
the danger that menaced him, and counselled him to
save himself by an immediate flight. As he pos-
sessed exact information of the state of the roads and
the guards posted upon them, he advised the prison-
ers to make the best of their way to the shore of the
lake at Chimalhuacan, and embark for Mexico at
that place. He recommended his family to the care
of Montezuma, as he had little doubt that immediate
death would be his portion as soon as the flight of the
prisoners should be known. With these words, he
ordered the prison doors to be thrown open at dead
of night by one of his confidential officers. The
Mexicans had no means of requiting the noble gene-
rosity of their benefactor, except by instantly follow-
ing his advice. They stole silently out of the prison

102 MonTEZUMA 1-
at midnight, and proceeded cautiously over by-paths
to the neighborhood of Chimalhuacan, where they lay
concealed all the following day, with nothing but raw
vegetables for their sustenance. In the night that
followed, they seized canoes upon the shore, and em-
barked. By swift rowing, they escaped all pursuit,
and arrived safe at Mexico, where they were received
as persons arisen from the dead. -
Toteotzin was inflamed with the most furious rage
on learning the flight of the prisoners. Quateotzin
was immediately suspected, and the worst apprehen-
sions of that generous man were realized by the san-
guinary orders of his chief. He was immediately
put to death and his body quartered. The vengeance
of the barbarous Toteotzin did not spare his innocent
family. The wife and children of the unhappy vic-
tim shared his fate, with the exception of a son and
daughter, who were fortunate enough to make their
escape. The daughter fled to Mexico, where she
enjoyed the protection and honor due to the offspring
of a man who had sacrificed his own life in a deed
of humanity and the performance of an important
service to the Mexican nation.
The embassy of Toteotzin, notwithstanding his
hopes, did not result in gaining for him the good will
of the Tepanecan king. Maxtlaton refused to be
cajoled by the flattery and obsequiousness of the
chief of Chalco. He sent him for answer that he
was a double-faced traitor, and ordered him to set his
prisoners at liberty without delay. No feeling of
humanity, it appears, prompted this command. Max-
tlaton hated the Mexicans most intensely, and was not


MonTE-UMA 1- 103
accustomed to spare his enemies; but his rage was
so highly excited against Toteotzin, that he could not
resist the inclination to frustrate his designs and treat
him with contempt. So far was he from a wish to
favor the Mexican nation, that he was actually en-
gaged in collecting a large army to strike a heavy
and decisive blow upon them. The rumor of the
approaching war threw Mexico into consternation.
The people considered themselves utterly incapable
of offering any effectual resistance to the Tepanecan
forces, and flocked in crowds to the king, deprecating
the war, and entreating him to save the city and the
nation from ruin, by negotiating with their too pow-
erful masters; for Mexico, at this period, was still
nominally subject to the king of the Tepanecans.
“Peace! peace!” they cried, at the gates of the
palace, “sue for peace from Maxtlaton. Offer him
submission and solicit his clemency. Let our god be
borne on the shoulders of the priests into his pres-
ence. In this way only can we be saved from the
calamities that hang over our heads.” So great was
the clamor of the populace, which at length swelled
into violent threats, that the prudent king began to
fear a popular sedition, which might prove more fatal
than a war with the enemy. He showed symptoms
of an inclination to yield to their demands; but Monte-
zuma, who was present, was touched with shame at
the thought of this ignoble submission. His indigma-
tion burst out into the bold language of reproach.
“Oh, ye Mexicans!" he exclaimed, “what would ye
do? Haveye lost both reason and courage? How
has such cowardice stolen into your hearts? Have


104 MonTEZL-1.
ye forgotten that ye are Mexicans, the descendants
of those heroes who founded this noble city, and who
defended it valiantly against all its enemies? Aban-
don your pusillanimous demands, or renounceforever
the glory you inherit from your ancestors!" Then,
turning to the monarch, he said, “How, sir, can you
permit such ignominy to stain the character of your
people? Speak to them again, and tell them to
strike one blow, at least, before they crouch beneath
their enemies.”
The courage of the monarch received new anima-
tion from the words of Montezuma. He harangued
the populace, and succeeded in quieting their clam-
ors. Montezuma undertook the perilous task of an
embassy to the hostile chief, with the hope of pre-
venting a war by an honorable treaty; but Maxtlaton,
self-confident in the superior force of his armies,
would listen to no terms. A formal declaration of
war immediately ensued on both sides, and the people
of Mexico, again thrown into consternation, thronged
the avenues to the royal palace, demanding permis-
sion to abandon their city, the ruin of which they
believed to be certain. Once more the king exhorted
them to courage, and endeavored to comfort them
with the hopes of victory. A strange compact en-
sued, characteristic of a semi-barbarous people. “If
the enemy conquer,” said the king, “I agree to
deliver myself into your hands, to be offered up a
sacrifice at your pleasure.” “If we conquer,” said
the people, “we bind ourselves and our descendants
to be vassals and tributaries to you, to cultivate your
lands and those of your nobles, to build your houses,

MonTE-ZUMA 1. 105
to bear your burdens and your arms and baggage
when you go to war.” “It is agreed,” said both
parties. Such, the Mexican histories inform us, was
the origin of personal vassalage in that empire.
The Mexican army immediately took the field,
under the command of Montezuma, whose skill and
courage placed him far above all other competitors for
the post of general-in-chief. The Tepanecan army
approached in formidable numbers, marshalled in
admirable order, and most splendidly equipped in
armor adorned with plates of gold, and helmets cov-
ered with lofty and brilliant plumes. Their march
was cheered onward with loud shouts, with which
they rent the air in boastful anticipation of victory.
The king, Maxtlaton, despised the Mexicans too much
to condescend to lead his troops against them in per-
son, but placed at their head a general of high reputa-
tion, named Mazatl. The two armies met in the
neighborhood of Mexico. The signal for the charge
was given by the king, Itzcoatl, by striking a little
drum which he carried on his shoulder; and both
sides rushed to the contest with great fury. During
the greater part of the day the struggle continued
without giving either party the prospect of victory,
but a little before sunset, reinforcements joined the
Tepanecan army, and the Mexicans, sinking under
fatigue and the assaults of overwhelming numbers,
began to give ground.
A panic soon diffused itself among their ranks.
Many uttered cries of submission to the enemy, and
called out for quarters; the Mexican army was on
the point of being totally routed and dispersed. In

106 MonTEzu-LA 1.
this exigency, the courage and resolution of Monte-
zuma saved his country. “Let us fight,” he exclaim-
ed, “till death! If we die with arms in our hands,
defending our liberties, we die in the performance of
our duty. If we survive our defeat, we live in eternal
dishonorſ” Inspired by his exhortation, the chief
Mexican officers united in a compact phalanx, and
rushed with vigor and determination upon the enemy.
The Tepanecans, surprised at this unexpected and
desperate charge, recoiled at once from their assail-
ants, and abandoned an advantageous post which they
had just gained. The Mexicans followed up their
advantage. In the heat of the conflict, Montezuma
encountered the Tepanecan general, hand to hand,
and, with one blow from his sword, laid him lifeless
on the ground. His death spread terror among his
troops, and they abandoned the field of battle in con-
fusion under cover of the approaching night.
Maxtlaton, with astonishmentandalarm, received the
intelligence that his army was defeated. He instantly
comprehended the perils of his situation. Unless
he could retrieve his fortunes by a bold and success-
ful stroke, he saw himself destined to become a tribu-
tary to the Mexican king, his own vassal. Rage and
indignation fired his soul at the thought. He called
his officers around him, harangued them on the glory
of triumphing over their enemies, and the disgrace
of submitting to their inferiors. His exhortations
fortified them with courage again to meet the enemy.
The two armies once more encountered each other in
deadly conflict. But the Mexicans were now in-
spired with the highest hopes and the most invinci-
MonTE-ZUMA 1- 107
ble determination to conquer or die. After a terrible
carnage, victory crowned their efforts. The Tepane-
cans were driven from the field, and retreated to their
capital of Azcapozalco. The Mexican army pursued
them to the city, and the Tepanecans, unable to de-
fend themselves within its walls, abandoned Azcapo-
zalco, and took their flight to the mountains.
The haughty and imperious Maxtlaton, who, until
that moment, had looked with contempt and scorn
upon the Mexicans, and conceived himself safe from
all the vicissitudes of fortune, now heard the victorious
shouts of his enemies resounding in his capital, and
saw their armed squadrons invading the courts of his
palace. Without the fortitude to meet death with
dignity, he attempted to save himself by an ignoble
flight, and at length found a hiding-place in a temaz-
calli, or vapor-bath. The researches of the conquerors,
however, could not be eluded. He was discovered
in his retreat, ignominiously dragged out into public
view, and exposed to all the insults and brutalities of
an infuriated soldiery, hot from scenes of carnage.
No prayers nor tears, with which he implored their
mercy, could avail to save his life. He was beaten
to death with clubs and stones, and his corpse was
thrown out into the fields, to be devoured by birds of
prey. Such was the issue of the Tepanecan war,
which established the independence of Mexico, in the
year 1425 of the Christian era, precisely one century
after the foundation of the city.
The efficient services which Montezuma had ren-
dered in this war, were requited by large grants of
territory among the subjugated Tepanecans, who now


108 Mon-TEZLMA 1.
became the vassals of the Mexican empire. Monte-
zuma continued to signalize his career by military
exploits in the wars waged by the Mexicans against
their neighbors. Within a space of twelve years the
Mexican power received such constant augmentation,
by means of his political skill and military genius,
that it became predominant in the country, and the
empire of Mexico absorbed all the communities in
the neighborhood.
King Itzcoatl died in 1436. The four electors,
whose duty it was to appoint a successor, did not de-
liberate long in their choice. Montezuma was elevated
to the throne, amidst the general applause of the na-
tion whose prosperity he had so wonderfully promoted.
The Mexican annals describe the long series of his
wars and conquests, but a detail of them would not
come within the scope of our work; we can specify
only the most remarkable events in his reign. In
the year 1446, excessive rains fell on the mountains
around Mexico. The waters of the lake rose to an
inundation; a great part of the city was overflowed,
and many houses were washed away. The streets
became impassable, and boats were used to traverse
every quarter of the city. Montezuma saw the
necessity of providing a security against further acci-
dents of this sort, which might one day lay his whole
capital in ruins. He consulted with the king of Tez-
cuco, who appears to have enjoyed the reputation of
a skilful engineer at that period. By his advice an
immense dyke was projected, to turn off the torrents
of water that rushed down from the mountains. The
neighboring towns were ordered to furnish pre-
MONTE-ZUMA 1- 109

scribed quantities of wooden piles, timber, stones and
other materials, and quotas of workmen to perform
the labor of building. In a very short time the dyke
was completed. It was nine miles long, and proved
a work of such efficacy that the Spaniards, although
they employed European engineers, were not able, in
two centuries and a half, to give it any essential im-
provements.
Mexico at this period must have been exceedingly
populous. A few years afterward a famine afflicted
the country. Severe frosts, late in the spring, de-
stroyed the crops of corn for two successive years.
The next year an extraordinary drought produced a
similar calamity. The royal granaries were exhausted,
and the people, in a state of starvation, were driven,
some to abandon the country, and others to sell them-
selves for slaves. A proclamation was published by
the king, in which he prohibited any man from selling
himself for less than five hundred ears of maize, and
any woman for less than four hundred. By this we
may learn the nature of the article that supplied the
place of money in Mexico.
In a rebellion of the people of Chalco, the brother
of Montezuma, with some other Mexicans, ſell acci-
dentally into the hands of the rebels. These people
seem to have entertained the hope of shaking off the
authority of their sovereign and making their city the
rival of Mexico. They proposed to Montezuma's
brother, to make him king of Chalco. He at first
repelled all their advances, but, finding them bent
strongly on this design, he ſeigned consent. In
order that the ceremony of his assuming the sove-



110 Mox Tezu-MA 1.
reignty might be the more solemn, he requested that
a very tall tree might be planted in the marketplace,
with a scaffold on it, from which he might be viewed
by the whole multitude. Everything was done as he
desired. He assembled the Mexicans around the
tree, and ascended the scaffold with a bunch of flow-
ers in his hand. From this elevation, in the view of
an immense concourse of people, he thus addressed
his own countrymen: “You know well, brave Mexi-
cans, that the Chalchese wish to make me their king.
But it is not agreeable to God that I should commit
such an act of treachery to my country. I prefer to
show you, by my example, that I value honor rather
than life.” With these words, he threw himself head-
long to the ground, and was killed. The Chalchese
were so enraged at this act of heroic self-devotion, that
they immediately fell upon the remaining Mexicans,
and despatched them with their darts.
The perpetrators of this unjustifiable massacre soon
found reason to dread the vengeance due to the san-
guinary deed. On the evening of the next day, say
the Mexican histories, the melancholy screaming of
an owl filled them with superstitious terror, and an-
nounced to their guilty apprehensions the approaching
wrath of the gods. Their alarm was not without
foundation. Montezuma, justly incensed at the bar-
barous murder of his people, immediately declared
war against the Chalchese, and a hundred beacon
fires blazed from the mountain-tops, to summon his
troops to the capital. At the head of a large army, he
marched against Chalco, and visited that city with so
terrible a slaughter as to leave it almost depopulated.
M-N-T-E-L-L- 1. 111
The place was sacked and plundered, and the most of
the inhabitants who escaped the sword of the Mex-
icans, fled to the mountains which overlook the plain
of Chalco. The fury of revenge was succeeded in
Montezuma, as is usual with nobleminds, by feelings
of compassion for the unfortunate. He proclaimed a
general pardon to all the fugitives, and took special
measures for the relief of the aged, the women and
children, inviting them to return without fear to their
homes. Not content with this, he sent his troops to
traverse the mountains, and bring back the wanderers
who had sought a shelter among the caves and
forests.
By various subsequent conquests of Montezuma,
the empire of Mexico was extended easterly as far as
the shores of the gulf; in the southeast, as far as the
centre of the country of the Mixtecas; in the south,
beyond Chilapan; in the west, to the valley of Toluca,
and in the north, to the extremity of the vale of Mexico.
After a most prosperous reign of twenty-eight years,
he died, in 1464, universally regretted.
This prince appears to be entitled to the highest
rank among the sovereigns of Mexico, for military
genius and political sagacity. He gave indepen-
dence to his country, and greatly augmented, by his
skilful and persevering efforts, the extension and con-
solidation of the Mexican monarchy. As his reign
was within half a century of the invasion of this coun-
try by the Spaniards, it is probable that civilization
and the arts had, during that period, reached pretty
nearly the degree of development in which they were
found by the Castilian conquerors. We shall intro-



112 MonTEZLMA 1-
duce, therefore, in this place, a general and hasty
glance at the state of society in ancient Mexico.
The Mexicans, like the Romans, were not inven-
tors of architecture, but copied it from others. When
they arrived in Mexico from the north, they ſound it
full of large and beautiful cities, the work of the
Toltecs and other nations. Reduced, afterwards, to
great hardships on the little islands of the lake of
Tezcuco, they built rude huts of reeds and mud for
their dwellings, until, by increase of wealth and inter-
course with their more polished neighbors, they were
enabled to improve and beautify their architecture.
When the Spaniards arrived in the country, they were
struck with surprise and admiration at the sight of the
Mexican cities, which displayed a skill and magnifi-
cence of construction that indicated the very reverse
of barbarism in the people. Cortez, in his first letter
to the emperor, Charles L., is unable to find words to
depict what he saw. “Montezuma's palaces,” he
says, “bothin the city of Mexico and other places, are
such admirable structures, that I do not believe I shall
be ever able to describe their excellence and gran-
deur; therefore I shall only say that there are no
equals to them in Spain.” These declarations are
confirmed by other persons in the army of Cortez, who
wrote narratives of the expedition.
In Mexico, as was the case in all parts of Europe at
that period, and as we find it at the present day in the
rich and populous countries of Asia, the strongest con-
trast existed between the habitations of the poor and
those of the rich and noble. The houses of the lower
MonTEzu MA 1- 113
class in Mexico were built of reeds or unburnt bricks,
stone and mud, with thatched roofs of long, coarse
grass, or leaves of the aloe placed in the manner
of tiles. One of the main supports of a house was a
tree, by means of which, beside the comfort of its
shade, they saved considerable labor in building.
The houses of the mobility and rich people were built
of stone and lime, generally two stories in height, with
large halls and court-yards. The roofs were flat and
terraced. The walls were so neatly whitened and
polished, and shone so brilliantly in the sun, that the
Spaniards, when at a distance, mistook them for silver.
Many of these houses were richly and fantastically
ornamented with turrets and pinnacles.
Mexico, like Venice, was built in the water, with
canals running through all the streets. The large
houses in general were so arranged that the front
entrance opened on the street, and the back door on a
canal. They had no wooden doors, the laws and
police being so strict as to prevent theft. But a
screen of fine reeds was commonly hung over the
entrance, on which was suspended a string of cocoas,
or some tinkling materials, which answered the pur-
pose of a door-bell when a person entered. Many of
the houses had large gardens, with fish-ponds and
walks laid out with much taste and symmetry.
The palaces and large houses were adorned with
numerous columns, round and square, some of them
of marble and alabaster. The stone named Tezontli
was much used in building, and continues in use to the
present day. It is of a blood-red color. The cor-
nices and other projections of the walls were pro-
H.




114 MonTEZUMA 1-
fusely adorned with fantastic carved work. The
pavements of the courts and halls were executed with
much skill, and often chequered with marble and
other precious stones. The ceiling and roofs of the
better sort of buildings were made of cedar, fir, cypress
and other kinds of wood peculiar to Mexico.
The religion of the Mexicans was a sanguinary
superstition, under the influence of which they sac-
rificed on their altars the prisoners taken in war.
They also exhibited gladiatorial spectacles, in which
the most distinguished prisoners might save their
lives by killing their antagonists. There were regu-
lar orders of priesthood, and convents of men and
women. Sacrifices were made to the sun, and in-
cense was burned before their idols.
The Mexicans were remarkable for their active
commercial habits. All the various branches of
trade were pursued with the greatest industry. In
the great square of Tlatelolco, which may be called
the Royal Exchange of Mexico, and which was double
the size of any place of the same kind in Spain, more
than fifty thousand merchants were to be seen every
day. It was surrounded by porticoes and arcades, in
which the various articles of merchandise were ar-
ranged in a regular system, so that all commercial
dealings were transacted in perfect order. This was
the great emporium of Mexican trade, where all the
productions of agriculture, manufactures and the fine
arts, were sold or exchanged. To this spot resorted
the jewellers and potters of Cholula, the goldsmiths
of Azcapozalco, the sculptors of Tenajocan, the paint-
ers of Tezcuco, the mat-weavers and chair-makers of

MonTE-ZUMA 1- 115
Quauhtitlam, the hunters of Xilotepec, the fish-dealers
of Cuitlahuac, the florists of Xochimilco, the garden-
ers and fruit-sellers of the whole neighborhood. Bits
of tin and copper circulated for small change, but the
chief medium of exchange consisted of cocoa, cotton
cloths, maize and gold-dust in quills. There were
commissioners of the market, and a tribunal of com-
merce, which regulated the whole system of trade.
Poetry and rhetoric were successfully cultivated by
the Mexicans; but, as they had only picture-writing
and oral tradition to preserve their literature, these
memorials of their genius have mostly perished.
Dramatic poetry was in high reputer Mexico had a
theatre, and two of their dramatic compositions are
still extant, which resemble, to a certain degree, the
European “mysteries” of the middle ages. The
fanaticism of the Spanish priests destroyed almost the
whole body of Mexican literature in the pictured vol-
umes which they found in abundance throughout the
country. These paintings were executed upon cloth,
parchment, and paper made of the maguey, aloe and
palm. The art of picture-writing they received from
the Toltecs. The Mexican painters were innumera-
ble, and there was hardly a subject that was not illus-
trated by their art. Mythology, history, astronomy,
astrology, &c., were largely treated in the Mexican
volumes. Regular codes of law and reports of trials
filled the public archives. After the Spanish con-
quest, many of these volumes were written in the
European alphabet, and had the religious zeal of the
conquerors spared the Mexican libraries for a short
time, the substance of their literature might have
116 Mo-TEz-1.
been reproduced in a shape accessible to European
readers, by which means a most important acquisi-
tion would have been made to the history of the
western world.

DO N N A M A R IN A.
This remarkable Mexican female, who is the only
one of her sex that has acquired a place in the history
of her country, was born in Painalla, a village of the
Mexican province of Guazacoalco. She was of noble
birth, her father having been a feudatory of the crown
of Mexico, and lord of several domains. Her mother,
being left a widow, married another Mexican noble,
by whom she had a son. Donna Marina was yet an
infant, and the affections of her mother appear to have
been entirely engrossed by her son. She had so
little feeling for her daughter, that she consented to a
scheme of her husband for securing the succession to
his offspring, by getting rid of the older heir. Ac-
cordingly, taking advantage of the death of a girl
about the age of Donna Marina, the child of one
of their own slaves, they announced that their daugh-
ter had died. The funeral and mourning were con-
ducted with every appearance of sincere grief, and
the public ſell into the deception.
Donna Marina was privately sold by her unnatural
parents to some traders of Xicalango, a town on the
frontier of the territory of Tabasco. These people
sold her again to some persons of the city of Tabasco,
where she lived many years as a slave. As she
grew up, she became distinguished for her beauty
and talents. She was gifted with a noble figure, and
a frank, amiable and winning address. Having lived


118 Do-NA. MARIN-
among various nations of the Mexican empire, and
possessing great discernment and quickness of under-
standing, she acquired a knowledge of their various
dialects, which gave her a vast influence and conse-
quence in the war between the Spaniards and the
Mexicans. When Cortez arrived on the coast of
Mexico, he possessed no means of communicating by
speech with the natives. Not a man of all his expe-
dition knew anything of the language spoken in the
great and powerful empire he was about to invade.
Two fortunate accidents removed this obstacle. On
touching at the island of Cozumel, he found there a
Spaniard, named Jerome de Aguilar, who had been
eight years a prisoner among the Indians of that part
of the coast, and had become perfectly acquainted
with their language. This Spaniard he ransomed,
and carried along with him as an interpreter.
Aguilar made his services available to the Span-
iards, in conversing with the natives, till the arrival
of the expedition at the place where Vera Cruz was
afterwards built. When Cortez entered the harbor, a
large canoe, full of people, among whom were two
who seemed to be persons of distinction, approached
his ship in a friendly manner, making signs for a
parley. They came on board without fear or dis-
trust, and addressed him in a respectful manner; but
Cortez was thrown into the greatest embarrassment,
on perceiving that Aguilar was totally unacquainted
with their language. His disappointment was most
distressing and mortifying, as he had imagined his
interpreter familiar with the speech of the whole em-
pire. He instantly foresaw the formidable difficulties

Lon NA MARINA. 119
that now lay in the way of the accomplishment of his
great design, and began to hesitate whether he ought
not at once to abandon all attempt to communicate
with a people, with whom he could hold intercourse
only by signs.
In the midst of this doubt and perplexity, he was
suddenly relieved by the interference of one of his
Indian slaves. This was Donna Marina, who, with
nineteen other native women, had been given as a
present to Cortez, by the cacique of Tabasco. She
perceived the embarrassment and distress of the gen-
eral when he was accosted by his visitors, and, imme-
diately divining the cause, she explained their speech
to him in the Yucatan dialect, with which Aguilar
was acquainted. Cortez was overjoyed to find a per-
son in his possession who perfectly understood the
language of the great empire of Mexico, and consid-
ered this fortunate incident as a visible interposition
of Heaven in his favor, designed to urge him forward
in his great undertaking.
Donna Marina was baptized in the Christian faith
immediately on becoming the property of the Span-
iards, and received from them the name by which
she is known to us. The services she rendered them
during the war of the conquest were so manifold and
important, that it is hardly too much to say that she
was the main instrument by which Cortez effected
the subjugation of the country. The alliance of the
Tlascalans and Zempoalans was not of greater con-
sequence to him than the possession of a person
whose quick apprehension, fertile genius, and perfect
knowledge of the Mexican language, furnished him


120 Donna Maº In-
at once with information, and suggested expedients
and precautions of the most momentous consequence
in the invasion of a strange territory. She was not
only the sole medium of his negotiations with the
Tlascalans, the Zempoalans, the Mexicans, and other
nations of Anahuac, but she frequently saved the
lives º: Spaniards, by warning them of dan-
gers, and pointing out the means of avoiding them.
She accompanied Cortez in all his expeditions, serv-
ing him always as an interpreter and counsellor.
She bore him a son, who became subsequently
known, in the history of New Spain, by the name of
Don Martin Cortez, and was made a knight of the
military order of St. Jago. Her connection with the
conqueror of Mexico did not prove an obstacle after-
wards to her marriage with a respectable Spaniard,
Juan de Xaramillo.
During the progress of Cortez through the country
after the fall of Mexico, he came to Goazacoalco, where
the mother and brother-in-law of Donna Marina
resided. He summoned all the chiefs of the neigh-
borhood to wait upon him, and among the rest came
the two relatives of Donna Marina, in the greatest
terror, and drowned in tears, thinking they were sent
for to be put to death, in revenge for the wrongs they
had done her in her infancy. Donna Marina, whose
generosity was equal to her genius, received them, on
the contrary, with the greatest affection, dried their
tears, and assured them of her hearty forgiveness.
She further made them some rich presents, and de-
clared she should always be mindful of their welfare;
adding, that she thanked God, who had taken her
I-N-N-M.--N-- 121
from the worship of idols, and joined her to the true
church; esteeming herself happier in her connection
with the Spaniards, than if she had been sovereign
of all Mexico. “All this,” says honest Bernal Diaz,
in his quaint simplicity, “I heard with my own ears,
and swear to the truth thereof. Amen.”

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M O N T E Z U M A II.
Montezuma Xocomotzin, or junior, the unfortunate
prince who saw the crown of Mexico struck from his
head by an audacious invader from beyond the ocean,
was the grandson of Montezuma I., and was elected to
the throne in 1502. He had in early life signalized
himself in war, and also shared in the dignity of the
priesthood. He was noted for the gravity of his de-
meanor, his taciturnity, deliberation and strong reli-
gious feelings. The messengers who carried the
intelligence of his elevation to the throne, found him
sweeping the pavement of the temple. The Mexican
histories have preserved the speech addressed to him
on this occasion by the king of Acolhuacan, one of
the electors; and we are assured that Montezuma was
so deeply affected that he thrice attempted in vain to
reply, but was checked by his tears.
In the early part of his reign he discovered a strong
passion for pomp, magnificence and ceremony. The
palaces which he erected, surpassed all that had yet
been seen for their grandeur and costliness. To meet
the expenditure caused by these undertakings, he im-
posed unusually heavy and oppressive burdens upon
the people, which occasioned much disaffection. Yet
many acts of his administration indicated liberal
views. The city of Colhuacan was converted into a
hospital for invalids, where all persons who had served
the empire either in military or civil employments

124 MonTEzuna 11.
were maintained at the public expense. He also gave
great encouragement to artists and manufacturers of
every description. The gardens of his palace con-
tained large collections of animals of every species
found in the country, and all the plants, flowers and
other natural productions useful in medicine.
The beginning of the reign of Montezuma was dis-
turbed by rebellions among the provinces of the em-
pire. These were suppressed without much difficulty.
But Montezuma, shortly after, found himself involved
in more serious hostilities with the republic of Tlas-
cala, a nation dwelling near the city of Mexico, but
which had constantly maintained its independence,
while all the surrounding states had submitted to the
Mexican arms. Montezuma despatched an army
against the Tlascalans, under the command of his
eldest son. The Tlascalans encountered them in the
valley of Atlixco, and, by a sudden attack, gave them
a complete overthrow, killing their general. The
subsequent course of the war was not more fortunate
for the Mexicans, for although Montezuma sur-
rounded their state with powerful armies, and bent all
his efforts to accomplish their entire destruction, such
was the skill of these brave republicans, that the
Mexicans were defeated in every battle, and finally
abandoned the contest.
The Mexican histories and traditions affirm that
about this time the fears of Montezuma began to be
excited by omens and presages of the downfall of his
empire. A comet appeared, and threw all the people
into consternation. An army, marching on an expe-
dition against the distant province of Amatla, was
MonTEZUMA 11. 125
overwhelmed by a furious snow-storm while crossing
the Cordilleras. Strange flames of fire were seen blaz-
ing from the turrets of the great temple of Mexico on a
calm, serene night. The waters of the lake were
agitated, in a most extraordinary manner, without wind
or earthquake, or any other known cause. Figures
of armed men were seen fighting in the air. But
the most portentous phenomenon was the apparition
of Papantzin, the sister of Montezuma, who died in
the year 1509, and was buried in a cavern in the gar-
den of Tlatelolco, in the ancient Hebrew fashion, with
a great stone at the mouth of her sepulchre.
The story of this supernatural event, which was
firmly believed by the Mexicans, is as follows:-
Papantzin, after her death and burial, was discovered
by a little child, sitting by a fountain in the garden.
Montezuma was summoned to her presence, and she
addressed him to the following effect: “After I was
dead I found myself suddenly transported to a wide
plain which appeared to have no bounds. In the
middle was a road which divided into many paths,
and on one side ran a river, foaming and dashing with
a dreadful sound. I was about to plunge into the
stream and swim to the opposite bank, when suddenly
appeared before me a beautiful youth, clad in a long
robe, white as snow and dazzling as the sun. He had
wings of magnificent plumage, and his forehead bore
this mark”—here she made the sign of the cross by
laying her two forefingers across each other. “He
said to me, “Stop; it is not time to pass this river.”
He then led me along the banks of the stream, where
I saw heaps of skulls and human bones, and heard the


126 MONTEZUMA-11.
most appalling groans. Presently, I discovered upon
the stream, large ships, filled with men in strange
dresses. They were fair in complexion and bearded.
They bore standards in their hands and helmets on
their heads. The youth said to me, “The groans you
hear, are from the souls of your ancestors, who are
tormented for their crimes. The men you see in these
ships, will conquer this empire, and introduce the
knowledge of the true God. Thou shalt live to be a
witness of this great revolution.” Having said these
things, he vanished; I awoke to life, and removed the
stone of my sepulchre.”
Disbelievers in the marvellous will explain this
story by ascribing its origin to a dream of the Mexi-
can princess, which alarmed the superstitious Monte-
zuma, and the history of which was modified and
adapted to the events afterwards. There is no doubt,
however, that a tradition existed, from very ancient
times, among the Mexicans, importing that an un-
known race of men were to arrive from a distant part
of the world and subjugate the country. The hiero-
glyphical volumes of the Mexicans contain abundant
allusions to this subject. Montezuma was alarmed
at the omens, and his thoughts reverted to the tradi-
tions of the disaster that menaced his empire. This,
however, did not turn his attention from the active
cares of government. He made war upon the pro-
vinces that skirted his empire, and subdued several
nations. The prisoners captured in these wars shared
the ordinary fate of those unfortunate beings; and
unless the Mexican histories grossly exaggerate, there
MonTE-U-I-II- 127
were sacrificed, at the consecration of two Mexican
temples, more than twelve thousand of these men.
In the midst of his successes, Montezuma was
alarmed with the intelligence that a strange race of
people had made their appearance on the eastern
coast. Despatches were received from that quarter
containing pictured representations of men on horse-
back, clad in armor, and wielding weapons that imitated
thunder and lightning. Montezuma immediately
consulted his oracles, and received advice not to admit
the strangers into his capital. The monarch, how-
ever, either from natural indecision of character, or in
a struggle between his wishes and his superstitious
fears, pursued a temporizing course. He sent the
strangers a rich present and a friendly message.
Hernando Cortez, who, with an army of five hundred
and eight Spaniards, had landed at the port of St.
Juan de Ulua, on the 21st of April, 1519, received
the messenger of Montezuma, and the present, borne
on the backs of a hundred men. It consisted of various
works in gold, silver and gems; thirty loads of fine
cotton cloth, of various colors; some beautiful works
of gold and feathers, and two large disks of gold and
silver, representing astronomical figures, one of which
was valued at twenty thousand dollars.
These presents, and the promise of others still more
magnificent, which the ambassador assured Cortez
should soon be transmitted from Mexico, produced
effects the very reverse of what was designed by
Montezuma. The ambassador replied to the request
of Cortez to be admitted to the court of the emperor,
that he was charged to dissuade him from so hazard-


128 M-NTEZLMA 1-
ous an enterprise, as the road thither lay through
uninhabited deserts and hostile countries. But the
avaricious passions of the Spaniards were inflamed
by the prospect of so much wealth, and confirmed in
their determination to penetrate to the capital. Mexico
was a region entirely unknown to them, and the
remarkable evidences of the opulence and civilization
of the inhabitants, which met their eyes in every
quarter, and which far surpassed anything of the kind
they had before seen in the New World, gave them
the most alluring prospects of plunder in the subjuga-
tion of the territory.
Notwithstanding, therefore, the positive prohibition
of the emperor, Cortez began his march for the capi-
tal. The cacique of Zempoala, who had long borne
impatiently the Mexican yoke, joined him on his
march, and assisted him with troops and men to carry
his baggage. Montezuma, hearing of his advance,
sent his two nephews, with a numerous retinue of
nobles, and another magnificent present, hoping to
induce the invaders to depart from his empire; but
this device was followed by the same results as the
former. The march of the Spaniards toward Mex-
ico was hastened. The warlike nation of Tlascala
opposed an obstacle to their progress. But the
Spaniards overcame them in a bloody battle, and a
treaty of alliance was concluded with the Tlascalans.
Cortez, with a strong army of auxiliaries, continued
his march, and sent a threatening message to Monte-
zuma, announcing his determination to treat him as an
enemy.
Montezuma became more and more alarmed at the

MonTE-ZUMA 1- -129
audacious proceedings of the invaders, who defeated
his armies and put his people to the sword. Making
a further effort to keep the Spaniards at a distance,
he offered to pay an annual tribute to the king of
Spain, and to bestow a donation of gold upon Cortez
and his officers, of the value of six millions of dollars,
on condition of their departing from the country.
Cortez replied that he could not return without diso-
beying the orders of his sovereign, and that his only
object in visiting the capital was to deliver a message
from the king of Spain to Montezuma, after which,
if his stay should not prove agreeable to the emperor,
he would depart, without doing any injury to the
Mexicans. The timid and superstitious Monte-
zuma, whose apprehensions were daily heightened by
the oracles of the priests, could not summon resolu-
tion sufficient to take any decisive step against his
dreaded enemy. By a vigorous and well-directed
blow, in the first instance, he might have crushed the
invaders, and the name of Cortez would have been
transmitted to posterity as a rash and incompetent
adventurer, who shared the fate of Cambyses and
Crassus. Instead of this, he continued to negotiate
and temporize, till the favorable moment had passed,
and the Spaniards, accompanied with a powerful
army of allies, arrived at his capital. On the 8th of
November, 1519, Montezuma saw these mysterious
strangers, the objects of his deepest dread, approach-
ing the city of Mexico.
The emperor met the Spaniards without the city.
He presented himself to Cortez in a magnificent dress,
borne upon a palanquin, covered with plates of gold,
I


130 " MonTE-ZUMA 11.
and sustained on the shoulders of four nobles. Three
other officers of rank preceded him, bearing golden
rods. Montezuma's dress surpassed all that the
Spaniards had yet seen of barbaric pomp and splen-
dor. He wore on his shoulders a mantle ornamented
with the richest jewels of gold and precious stones.
Buskins of gold covered his feet, and were tied with
strings studded with gold and gems. He was
crowned with a diadem of gold; and a parasol of
green feathers, profusely adorned with golden orna-
ments, was held over his head. Two hundred nobles,
magnificently dressed, but barefooted, appeared in his
train. As soon as Montezuma and Cortez came in
sight of each other, both alighted, and Montezuma,
leaning on the arms of two kings, received the saluta-
tion of Cortez, and bowed his head to accept a string
of glass beads, which the general placed round his
neck. Montezuma returned the compliment by the
gift of two necklaces of mother-of-pearl, embellished
with golden ornaments. After a formal speech on
both sides, the Spaniards marched into the city. The
people, who from the housetops and windows observed
all that passed, were astonished at the sight of so
many extraordinary objects, and the unexampled com-
plaisance of the emperor toward the strangers, which
contributed greatly to raise their estimation of the
Spaniards. As they advanced into the city, the
Spaniards were struck with equal wonder at the vast
size of the place, the magnificence of the buildings,
and the swarming crowds of population.
The Spaniards were lodged in a spacious building,
where they found ample room for themselves and all
Mo-T-ZUMA 11. 131
their servants and attendants, amounting to above
seven thousand. It was built with thick walls, stud-
ded with towers, and was well adapted for a citadel.
A strange fatality seems to have guided the decisions
of Montezuma in quartering his enemies in a spot
where they had every advantage in fortifying them-
selves. Cortez did not fail to perceive this, and
turned it immediately to account. He distributed his
guards, placed a battery of cannon facing the gate of
the palace, and took as many precautions, in strength-
ening his position, as if he expected an assault the
next day. Montezuma ordered a sumptuous feast to
be spread for his guests, and after they had dined he
visited them in their quarters. He presented to Cor-
tez many curious pieces of workmanship, in gold, sil-
wer and feathers, and upwards of five thousand fine
cotton dresses. Every possible act of courtesy, civil-
ity and generosity was practised by the Mexican
monarch towards the Spaniards.
Cortez, instead of being moved to any feeling of
gratitude by this generous behavior, thought of no-
thing but schemes of perfidy and treachery, by which
he might make himself master of the prodigious
wealth he saw around him. He received the atten-
tions of Montezuma with the coolest dissimulation,
and continued to deceive him by assurances of his
intention speedily to return home. The emperor did
not remit his efforts to please his guests. Day after
day he heaped presents upon the strangers, not
imagining that a race of men so superior to the Mex-
icans would pollute themselves with falsehood and
treachery. Cortez and his soldiers were admitted




132 MonTEZL-1.-1.
into every part of the city; and the more they ex-
plored it, the more was their greedy avarice excited
by the prospect of its uncounted wealth. Cortez
resolved without scruple to seize upon Mexico, at the
cost of whatever bloodshed or treachery might be
necessary, to achieve an act of such gigantic robbery.
No sentiment of gratitude, no sense of honor or jus-
tice, interposed to check this perfidious project. The
only obstacle was the immense population of the city,
among whom the Spaniards were but a handful.
After revolving various schemes, Cortez decided
upon the audacious resolution of taking the emperor
prisoner. Arrangements were instantly made. A
body of Spaniards were ordered to repair to the pal-
ace of Montezuma, two by two, in such a manner as
to meet there all at once, as iſ by accident. The em-
peror, far from suspecting the plot, received them
with his wonted courtesy, and complimented them
with rich presents. After some conversation, Cortez,
assuming a serious tone, began to complain of certain
hostile acts committed by the Mexican troops against
the Spaniards at Vera Cruz. Montezuma replied,
with the utmost sincerity, that these things were done
entirely without his authority or knowledge. Cortez
then demanded that, as a proof of his sincerity, Mon-
tezuma should leave his palace and take up his resi-
dence in the quarters of the Spaniards. The empe-
ror now, for the first time, began to suspect the per-
fidious designs of his guest, and exclaimed, in aston-
ishment, “Was it ever known that a king amely
suffered himself to be led to prison? Were leven
willing to debase myself by such an act would not
MonTEZUMA 11. 133
my people immediately rush to arms to set me free?
I am not a man who can creep into an obscure corner,
or fly to the mountains. I will satisfy your reasona-
ble demands, but not by such a deed of infamy.”
Cortez, not disconcerted by this refusal, renewed his
demand, and pledged his faith that Montezuma
should receive every honor and attention from the
Spaniards which had been shown towards him by his
own people. -
Montezuma, with his exalted sense of his own dig-
nity, seems to have possessed all the fickleness, the
indecision and pusillanimity of the unfortunate Louis
XVI. The superstitious panic, under which he had
labored ever since the arrival of the Spaniards, must
be allowed its share in paralyzing the energies
of his mind. Yet, had he been inspired with the
courageous spirit and prompt resolution of the first .
Montezuma, his honor and his empire might have
been saved. The conference at the palace lasted but
a short time. One of the Spaniards at length ex-
claimed that they should seize the emperor by force,
or put him to death. Montezuma, struck by his furi-
ous gestures and tone, immediately demanded of the
interpreter, Donna Marina, what he had said. She
replied by informing him that his life was in danger,
and that his only resource was to place himself in the
hands of the Spaniards.
The unhappy emperor, seeing himself surrounded
by armed enemies, yielded, to save his life. “Let us
go,” said he, “for so the gods decide.” Without
delay he suffered himself to be transported from his
palace, to which he was destined never to return.



134 MonTEZLMA 11.
The news of this astounding occurrence brought the
population of Mexico in crowds to witness the pas-
sage of the king to the Spanish quarters. Astonish-
ment, grief, despair, and every wild and stirring pas-
sion, agitated the people. Some burst into tears at
the degrading spectacle; others threw themselves on
the ground in paroxysms of sorrow. Montezuma
attempted in vain to console them, telling them it was
his own pleasure, and that he was going to visit his
friends. The Mexicans, however, were not quieted
by these assurances, and the emperor gave orders to
drive them from the streets. He appears to have
lost all spirit, energy and courage at this disaster, and
to have submitted, like a doomed victim, quietly to
his fate. On his arrival at the Spanish quarters, he
was placed under strong guards, though treated with
much outward respect. The Mexicans were allowed
to visit him, but only a few at a time. He gave au-
dience to his vassals, heard their petitions, pronounced
sentences, consulted his ministers and councillors,
and governed the empire apparently as usual. So
completely does he appear to have resigned himself
to his fate, that Cortez at length permitted him to go
out of his quarters, under a guard of Spanish soldiers,
whenever he chose to take the air. The debased
monarch did not scruple to use this wretched privi-
lege, and thought it no dishonor to visit the temples,
to hunt in his pleasure-grounds, and to fish in his
ponds for amusement, with a band of armed Span-
iards around him. Even the wish to regain his lib-
erty appears to have died within him.
The Spaniards, having the emperor in their power,


MonTEzu-1-11. 135
proceeded to glut their rapacious avarice with the
wealth of Mexico. The magazines and treasuries of
the city lay at their mercy, and were speedily plun-
dered of their gold and precious commodities. Degra-
dations now thickened upon the head of the unhappy
Montezuma. Cortez one day burst into his apartment,
with a number of men bearing fetters, and, in an angry
tone, uttered the coarsest abuse against the monarch,
charging him with treachery against the Spaniards,
in having instigated his subjects to make war upon
them. He then ordered his men to put the emperor
in irons, which was done immediately, without the
slightest opposition from the royal prisoner, who was
struck dumb by the audacity of this outrageous pro-
ceeding. His domestics expressed their grief by
silent tears, and, throwing themselves at his feet,
eased the weight of the ſetters with their hands, and
endeavored to prevent their contact with his limbs by
placing bandages of cotton between them. The
treacherous and remorseless Cortez was now ready for
any deed of injustice and cruelty. Immediately after
this insult to the emperor, he ordered a huge fire to
be made in front of the royal palace, with piles of
bows, arrows and lances taken from the Mexican
armories. In this fire he caused the cacique of
Nauhtan, with his son and fifteen of his officers, to
be burnt alive, for some acts of hostility exercised
against the Spaniards.
Cortez, finding the spirit of Montezuma completely
broken by these indignities, did not judge it necessary
to keep him any longer in confinement, and informed
him that he might return to his palace. But the em-


136 MonTEZUMA-11.
peror had now degraded himself to such a degree, in
the eyes of his people, by his abject submission to the
Spaniards, that he was ashamed to present himself
abroad, and preferred to remain the inglorious slave
and tool of his base betrayers. But the spirit of
the Mexican people was roused. Indignation and
the thirst of vengeance took place of the timid and
superstitious dread with which they had at first
viewed the Spaniards. Montezuma had now become
the object of their scorn and contempt, and they deter-
mined to make an effort to free their country from its
treacherous invaders. Montezuma, in the most abject
and pusillanimous manner, had formally yielded up
his empire to the king of Spain, and exhorted all his
subjects to transfer their obedience to that monarch.
This disgraceful act, and a massacre of the people at
a solemn festival by the Spaniards, precipitated the
catastrophe, and the insurrection of the Mexicans
immediately burst forth.
Cortez, who had been called away from the city by
the expedition of Narvaez against him, ſound, on his
return to Mexico, on the 24th of June, an unusual
ferment among the people. The bridges were raised
from the canals, and there were other signs of threat-
ened hostilities. The following day the Mexicans
attacked the Spanish quarters and poured upon it a
shower of stones and darts, that, as Cortez says,
was like a tempest. The streets were thronged with
countless multitudes of people, yet the Spaniards sal-
lied out, and a most bloody combat took place, the
Mexicans making up by numbers for their inferiority
to their enemies in weapons and discipline. On the
MonTE-ZUMA II. 1:37
26th, the attack was renewed with equal obstimacy
and bloodshed, and continued the whole day. On
the 27th a still more furious assault took place. The
Mexicans scaled the walls on every side, and fought
with such desperation that they forced a passage and
commenced fighting hand to hand with the Spaniards.
The destruction of the invaders now appeared to be
inevitable, when Montezuma, whose every act seems
to have been dictated by the evil genius of his coun-
try, was seized with apprehensions for his own safety,
and resolved to show himself to the people, in hopes to
restrain their fury. He accordingly dressed himself
in his imperial robes, and, with a large train of attend-
ants, appeared on a terrace in sight of the people, his
ministers making signals for silence that he might be
heard by them. On beholding the emperor, the
whole multitude instantly suspended their hostile
rage. All were hushed into silence, and some
kneeled to the ground in devout reverence. Monte-
zuma then addressed them in the following terms:
* Mexicans—If you have taken up arms to restore me
to liberty, I thank you for your love and loyalty: but
you mistake in thinking me a prisoner. I am at liberty
to go wherever I choose. If you have taken up arms
to expel the strangers, I assure you they will depart as
soon as you lay them down. Quiet your fears, and
obey my commands, as you dread the vengeance of
heaven.”
A dead and mournful silence followed these words.
At length a Mexican, more daring than the rest, raised
his voice from amid the crowd, and called Montezuma
an effeminate coward, more fit to handle the distaff


138 MonTEzu-LA 11.
and the shuttle than to govern an empire. Having
uttered these and other insulting reproaches, he shot
an arrow at him. The multitude, obeying a sudden
impulse, instantly followed his example, and a clamor
of insulting shouts was heard on every side. Showers
of stones and arrows were poured toward the spot,
and Montezuma, although shielded by the bucklers
of the Spaniards, was struck to the ground by three
wounds. An arrow pierced his arm, a stone bruised
his head, and another his leg. He lingered but a few
days, and expired on the 30th of June, 1520. The
immediate cause of his death is not known with cer-
tainty. Cortez and Gomara affirm that he died of the
wound in his head. Solis declares that his death was
occasioned by not having the wound dressed. Her-
rera makes him die of a broken heart. Sahagun
and other Mexican historians assure us that the
Spaniards killed him, and one of them mentions the
circumstance of a soldier having stabbed him with an
eel-spear. Cortez gave his body up to the Mexicans,
who celebrated his funeral obsequies with every mark
of affection and reverence, notwithstanding their cen-
sures of his conduct while living. The corpse was
burnt on a funeral pile, at Copalco, and the ashes
buried in the same place.
In person, Montezuma was tall and well-shaped,
but of a complexion more dusky than was ordinary
among his countrymen. His eyes were remarkably
expressive. In early life he was courageous and
enterprising, though he subsequently enervated him-
self by voluptuous habits. In his administration of
the government he showed a natural disposition
MonTE-ZUMA 11. 139
towards justice and clemency, but his fondness for
magnificence and show led him to undertakings
which oppressed the people, while his reserved and
taciturn habits rendered him almost inaccessible to
the complaints of his injured subjects. Strength of
mind was a quality which he never exhibited, and his
generosity and forbearance toward the perfidious
Spaniards were so egregiously misplaced as to
amount to a fault. He possessed, in short, none of
the essentials of a great character, and it is chiefly
for his overwhelming misfortunes that he can find a
place in history. He left posterity in Mexico, from
one branch of which descended the Counts Monte-
zuma and Tula.

coracili-U-1.

C OF A G H I QUI,
A rancess of Florida, or, more properly, of that
wide region traversed by Soto in his expedition. This
district comprised, not only the country now known
as Florida, but also a portion of Georgia, Alabama
and Louisiana. The precise situation of the territory
of this princess is not known, few of the original names
in that part of the continent having been preserved to
the present day. Soto, in his wanderings to all parts
of the compass, came one day to a broad and rapid
river, beyond which, his Indian guides informed him,
lay the territory of Coſachiqui. The Spaniards were
suffering from famine and the fatigues of their long
march. The country through which they had passed
was hostile, and they found it necessary to cross the
stream. Marching up and down the banks, they at
length came in sight of an Indian town, which they
were told was the residence of the princess of the
country. Some of the inhabitants appeared on the
opposite shore, and the Spaniards called out to them,
saying that some friendly strangers wished to visit
their sovereign, and treat of an alliance. The Indians,
after gazing in astonishment at the horses of the
Spaniards, ran away to the town, and, a short time
afterward, six of the inhabitants, who afterwards
proved to be magistrates, came down to the shore with
their attendants, embarked in a canoe, and crossed the
river. On being introduced to the general they


142 copacitiqui.
bowed first to the sun in the east, then to the moon in
the west, and lastly to the general, to whom they put
the usual question, whether he wished for peace or
war. Soto replied that he wished for peace and a
passage across the river; also a supply of food for his
men. He made many apologies forgiving this trouble,
but he hoped to be able to make some suitable return.
The ambassadors made reply that they accepted his
offer of peace, and that every disposition would be felt
to comply with his request for provisions, but that,
unfortunately, the country had been severely ravaged
by a pestilence the year previous; in consequence of
which, a great many of the fields had been abandoned,
and the inhabitants had fled to the mountains, so that
a great scarcity of food existed at that time. They
further stated that the sovereign of the country was a
noble and amiable young princess, just of a marriage-
able age, who would do everything in her power for
the entertainment of her guests. With these words,
they bade the general adieu, and returned to the
town.
In a short time, the Spaniards espied two large
canoes approaching. One of them was decked with
an elegant canopy and a variety of strange and beau-
tiful ornaments. In this canoe was seated the princess
Coſachiqui, attended by eight noble ladies. They had
no rowers, but were towed in state by the other canoe,
which contained the six magistrates and numerous
attendants. On landing, the princess quite enchanted
the Spaniards with her beauty and grace, and the
dignity and propriety of her demeanor. After pre-
liminary compliments, she informed Soto that, not-
cofaciliqui. 143
withstanding the prevailing scarcity, she had provided
for his men six hundred bushels of corn, which was
lodged in two houses for their use; and that, more-
over, her granaries were at the service of the Span-
iards, should this supply not be sufficient. She would
give orders that one half the houses in the town should
be evacuated to provide quarters for the army, and
would even surrender the whole, if the number of the
soldiers required it. Soto replied, to these and other
generous offers made by the princess, with correspond-
ing acknowledgments.
While this conversation was going on, Coſachiqui
was occupied in disengaging from her neck a string
of pearls, as they are called by the narrator who
attended the expedition. These pearls were as large
as hazelnuts, and the string passed three times round
her neck, and hung down to her girdle. This she
put into the hands of Juan Ortiz, to deliver to the
general, her feminine scruples not allowing her to
present them directly. Soto informed her that it
would give him much greater pleasure to receive the
gift from her own hands, as a token of peace, and that
such a proceeding would not be considered as a vio-
lation of the strictest laws of decorum. After some
modest reluctance, the scruples of the princess were
overcome, and she rose to present him the necklace.
The general rose to receive it, and, drawing a valuable
diamond ring from his finger, gave it to Coſachiqui,
who accepted it with great politeness.
After these ceremonies, the Indians prepared a great
number of canoes and rafts, by help of which the
whole army crossed the river, and took up their


144 coraculºul.

quarters in the town. The Spaniards found them-
selves perfectly at home in this place, and passed
their time in the pleasantest manner. Among the most
friendly nations they had hitherto visited, they had been
entertained with hospitalities more or less constrained,
cool and reluctant. But there was something frank
and cordial in the manners of the Indians of Cofachiqui,
which made them feel as if they were among old
associates. The Indians built them loſty arbors of
green boughs, and feasted and amused them by all the
means they could devise.
The princess had a widowed mother living in
retirement about twelve leagues distant. Soto
expressed a wish to see her, and Coſachiqui sent
twelve of her principal officers, inviting her to come
to town and visit a people never before seen, and who
possessed extraordinary animals. The old lady,
instead of complying, sent her daughter a severe
reprimand for having admitted into her capital abody
of strangers of whom she knew nothing. Soto, not
deterred by this refusal, despatched a party of thirty
men to fetch her. Coſachiqui gave them, as a guide,
a young Indian, whom she instructed to intercede
with her mother, and entreat her to comply with the
request of the Spaniards. This young man had been
educated by the old lady, whose attachment he had so
completely won, by his gentle manners and noble
disposition, that she loved him as a son. He was
about twenty years of age, and was highly esteemed
by the Spaniards, whom he had treated with the
greatest courtesy. The historian speaks in glowing


cofaciliqui. 115
terms of the elegance of his person and the splendor
of his costume.
At their first halting place on the road, as they
were sitting at their meal, under the shade of the
trees, they were struck with the behavior of their
guide, who, instead of the cheerfulness and gaiety
which he had before exhibited, now showed signs of
the deepest melancholy. He leaned his head upon
his hand in silence, uttering long-drawn sighs. At
length, taking his quiver, he began drawing out the
arrows, one by one. The Spaniards admired them
for the beauty of their shape and materials, and the
perfection of their workmanship. They handled
them, one after another, as their guide drew them
from the quiver, and found that no two were alike, so
much ingenuity was displayed in their manufacture.
While their attention was thus engrossed, the Indian
grasped one of the sharpest, plunged it into his own
breast, and instantly fell dead.
The Spaniards were struck with astonishment at
this sanguinary deed, and the Indian attendants burst
into tears and lamentations, for the young man was
much beloved by all. They informed the Spaniards
that he had been equally attached to both the ladies,
and that he had killed himself because he could not
avoid offending the one or the other. He had accepted
the embassy, from the daughter, because he could
refuse her nothing, though he knew he was aiding the
Spaniards to carry away her mother against her will.
A nice sense of honor had compelled him to choose
death, rather than show himself regardless of the
sentiment of gratitude or love. Savage history offers
-


146 Copacºlaut.
not, perhaps, another instance of such refined and
romantic devotion.
The party proceeded in quest of the old lady, but,
the remaining Indians either not knowing, or not
willing to disclose, the place of her residence, they
wandered about so long that she had intelligence of
their approach, and made her escape. After six days'
search, the Spaniards returned without accomplishing
their purpose. Another expedition was sent in pur-
suit of her, but with no better success: the Indians
purposely led them astray, and frightened them with
stories about the danger of being ambushed and cut to
pieces.
Soto had been told, before his arrival here, that this
country contained abundance of white and yellow
metal, which, of course, he did not doubt to be gold and
silver. On questioning the princess, she assured him
that he might obtain a plenty of the white and yellow
metals here, and, as a proof of it, she ordered a quantity
to be produced. The sight of these articles dissipated,
in an instant, all the brilliant and chimerical hopes
which had prompted the Spaniards to undertake this
long and perilous expedition. The yellow metal
proved to be copper, and the white metal was a species
of stone or hard earth, which crumbled to pieces in
the hand. Under this disappointment, their only
consolation was found in pearls, which existed here
in abundance, although the Spaniards were not judges
of their value. Coſachiquitold them they might search
the tombs in the town and the neighboring villages,
where they would find enough to load all the horses
in the army. As this fact seems utterly inconsistent
cofaciliqui. 147

with all our notions of the reverence for ancestry,
which is so striking a characteristic of the Indians,
we should have strong doubts of the truth of the state-
ment, were it not distinctly asserted in both the narra-
tives of the expedition. -
The Spaniards visited and ransacked all the tombs
and temples, from which they took pearls amounting
to fourteen bushels, according to one author, and to
twenty-five thousand pounds' weight, according to
another. That they were not genuine pearls, is pretty
evident, though we cannot explain how the Spaniards
could be so deceived. One of the temples meritsa
description, as it seems to have been the most spacious
edifice which the Spaniards saw in Florida. It was
above three hundred feet in length, and a hundred
and twenty in breadth. The roof was very steep,
thickly covered with mats, and completely water-
tight. Over the mats was a sort of tiling, constructed
of brilliant shells, which made a most splendid appear-
ance in the sun. The entrance to the temple was
guarded by twelve colossal statues of men, completely
armed. These statues were of wood, and their fierce
and expressive countenances and imposing attitudes
excited the astonishment of the Spaniards, who
declared they would have been objects of admiration
in any temple of ancient Rome. Allround the interior
of the walls were ranged statues of men and women.
the men being armed. Beneath were vaults, in which
corpses were desposited; and in these recesses the
Spaniards found such quantities of pearls, that all the
men and horses in the army would have been insuffi-
cient to carry them of Attached to the temple, on the


148 cofacillout.
outside, were eight smaller buildings, filled with bows,
arrows, spears and other weapons. This remarkable
edifice was in a town, called Tolomeco, which the
Spaniards found deserted by the inhabitants, it hav-
ing been depopulated by the pestilence.
Soto remained ten days after this at the capital of
Coſachiqui, being entertained in the noblest manner
by the generous princess. She supplied his army
liberally with provisions for their march, and fur-
nished them with guides, who were instructed to
denounce war against any of the neighboring states
which should not receive them in the most cordial
and hospitable manner. She also gave orders that
in every part of their progress throughout her do-
minions, all necessary supplies of provision should
be furnished them without pay. This generosity
was repaid with the blackest ingratitude. The Span-
iards abused the people; quarrels arose between
them, and Soto had the baseness to seize the person
of his generous benefactor, and carry her off. He
obliged her to travel on foot, with the ladies of her
train, for three hundred miles, during which the
Spaniards were everywhere struck with the dem-
onstrations of reverence and love displayed toward
her by her people. At her command, the Indians, in
every town through which they passed, came out of
their houses to carry the baggage of the Spaniards
and procure them food. After being dragged a pris-
oner in the Spanish camp for two or three weeks, she
found an opportunity to escape from her treacherous
and brutal captors. Passing one day through a thick
wood, she suddenly darted from the train and disap-


cofaciliqui. 149
peared. Pursuit was vain, and though the Span-
iards heard of her some days afterwards, she was for-
tunate enough to keep out of their way.
The historian of Florida, Garcilaso de la Vega,
terminates his account of this princess by declaring
that she possessed a truly noble soul, and was worthy
of an empire. Shame for his countrymen has induced
him to suppress all mention of the brutal indignity to
which she was subjected by Soto, and for which, as
a Castilian knight, he deserved to have his spurs
cut off. The Portuguese narrator, who accompa-
nied the expedition, states the facts too circumstan-
tially to leave us in any doubt about the matter, and
the noble and generous Cofachiqui is to be numbered
among those who suffered by trusting to the honor and
justice of the plunderers of the New World.


TAS CAL U Z. A
Was a cacique, whose territories lay upon the riv-
ers that enter into the bay of Mobile. He was a man
of gigantic size, being taller by half a yard than any
Spaniard in Soto's army, and stout in proportion.
His courage, resolution and fierceness corresponded
to his enormous stature. When Soto arrived at the
frontier of his dominions, Tascaluza had heard of
the ravages and plunderings committed by the Span-
iards in their progress through the country, and
resolved to oppose them. He did not at first disclose
his hostile designs, but despatched his son to the fron-
tier with a peaceable message, and an offer to guide
the Spaniards to his capital. The son was nearly as
tall as his father. Soto received him civilly, and
sent him back with a present. Travelling three days,
the Spaniards came to the town where Tascaluza
held his court. They found the cacique sitting under
a balcony in front of his house, which stood upon an
eminence, affording a delightful prospect of the sur-
rounding country. He was seated upon two cush-
ions, laid upon a carpet; and an attendant held an
umbrella of buck's skin over his head, to shield him
from the sun. A hundred of his chief men were
present, dressed in rich fur robes, and adorned with
head-dresses of colored plumes.
One of Soto's officers, with a squadron of horse,
preceded the general, and delivered a harangue to
Tasca Luz- 151
the cacique, who looked on in silence, casting his
eyes upon the Spaniards, one after another, in a
haughty and disdainful manner; but when Soto him-
self appeared, Tascaluza rose and advanced fifteen or
twenty steps to meet him. Soto took him by the
hand, and they sat down together. The chief made
a complimentary speech, and offered to accompany
the Spaniards in their march through his territories.
Soto accepted the offer, although he had been warned
to be upon his guard against Tascaluza, who bore the
reputation, among his neighbors, of being fierce, proud
and turbulent. After resting two days in this place,
the army re-commenced its march. It was necessary
to mount Tascaluza on horseback, but the Spaniards
had great difficulty in finding an animal strong
enough to carry him. At length, one huge steed was
found, which he could bestride without dragging his
feet on the ground. The army marched two days,
and came to a broad river, which they crossed on raſts
of cane, constructed by the Indians. Here a circum-
stance occurred that began to disturb the friendly feel-
ings of the two parties. The Spaniards, wherever they
passed, had made no scruple of seizing the women,
and carrying them off as slaves. An Indian woman
now ran away from her master, and the Spaniard
pursuing her lost himself in the woods, or was killed
by the natives. Soto told the cacique he must be
accountable for him, and threatened to keep him in
ſetters as long as he lived, if the Spaniard was not
returned.
Tascaluza required nothing more than this to stim-
ulate him to the hostile deeds which soon followed.


152 TA-SC-UZ-
They were approaching the town of Mauvila, the
modern Mobile. The cacique sent one of his men
forward to give notice of his approach, and prepare for
the reception of the Spaniards. This messenger car-
ried secret orders to muster the warriors of the place,
and hold them in readiness to attack the strangers on
their arrival. On approaching the town, Soto sent a
soldier forward to reconnoitre. He returned with
alarming accounts that the Indians were extremely
busy in fortifying the town with palisades, that armed
men were arriving from all parts, and that the chil-
dren had been removed, as well as all the women,
except those who were young and capable of fighting.
Soto was advised by his officers not to enter the
place, but to encamp in the neighborhood. He replied
that he was weary of encamping, and would take up
his quarters in the town. He wished to avoid any
overt act that might indicate hostility or suspicion,
and therefore merely gave warning to all his troops
to be on their guard.
The Spaniards found the town of Mauvila strongly
fortified. It contained about eighty houses, but these
were of enormous size, some of them being large
enough to lodge fifteen hundred men, and the small-
est five hundred. The army entered the town, and
were received with every show of rejoicing; their
horses were sent to a commodious place without the
walls, and the men were entertained with the dances
of some beautiful females, who, in Florida, were pe.
culiarly skilful in this exercise. After this, the
cacique and Soto fell into conversation, and Tasca-
luza requested the general to leave him in that place,
T-s------ 153
and not carry him further on his march. Soto de-
clined granting this request, and the cacique left him
and went into another house, where some of his peo-
ple were assembled. It was customary for him to
dine with the general, and the dinner-hour having
arrived, notice was sent him that dinner was on the
table. He sent word, in reply, that he was engaged
in council with his chiefs, and would come presently.
Soto waited some time, and then despatched a second
message, to which he received a similar answer.
After another interval, Juan Ortiz was sent to say
that dinner was waiting, and that Tascaluza must
instantly come.
When this affronting message was delivered, one
of the Indian chiefs rushed out of the council-house,
with a countenance and gestures full of indignation,
and exclaimed to the Spaniards, “What robbers and
vagabonds are these, that dare talk in such a style to
the great Tascaluza, our sovereign—as if they were
giving orders to a wretch like themselves! By the
sun and moon! who can endure the insolence of such
a pack of devils? Cut them in pieces!—the infa-
mous tyrants!" This was the signal for a general
attack. All the Indians rushed forth and fell in a
mass upon the Spaniards. Their horses were with-
out the town, and Soto judged it advisable to retreat
until they could secure the animals, as the chief ad-
vantage they possessed over their enemies was in
being mounted. The retreat was accomplished by
facing the enemy and slowly withdrawing; yet such
clouds of arrows were discharged upon them, that
they suffered severely. The Indians pursued them



154 Tasca-Luza.
beyond the walls, and succeeded in killing several
horses. They captured all the baggage of the Span-
iards, knocked off the chains of the slaves, set them
at liberty, and gave them weapons to fight with.
When the Spaniards, however, had mounted their
horses and ranged themselves in order of battle, they
made head against their enemies, who could not
stand the charge of the cavalry, but retreated into the
town. The walls were provided with embrasures,
and at every fifty paces was a tower capable of con-
taining eight or ten men. Covered by these fortifi-
cations, the Indians maintained their post and poured
such a shower of arrows and other missiles upon their
assailants, that they soon drove them to a distance
from the walls.
Soto now changed his plan of attack, and endeav-
ored to decoy the Indians out of the town by feigning
to retreat. He partly succeeded in this manºeuvre,
and the Indians suffered a considerable loss. The
rear division of his army had now arrived, and a
council of war was held. Some of the officers thought
it too desperate an attempt to continue the assault,
and advised a close siege of the place. It was decided,
however, to storm it immediately. The cavalry,
being the best armed, were ordered to dismount,
buckle their armor close round them, and, stooping
their heads, to rush forward and burst open the gates.
A terrible slaughter took place at the first onset, for
the Indians defended the gates with the utmost obsti-
macy. Several times were the Spaniards beaten back.
At length the gates were forced, and the Spaniardsen-
tered pell-mell among their enemies. A new conflict

T-scal-Uz- 155
now commenced in the streets; the Indians took pos-
session of the houses, and held out, disputing every
inch of ground. The Spaniards, overcome with thirst
in the long-contested battle, relieved themselves by
drinking from a pool near the wall, but it contained
as much blood as water.
Soto found it impossible to drive the Indians from
their houses, and he resolved on the dreadful expedi-
ent of setting them on fire. This was immediately
done, and, the buildings being all constructed of very
inflammable materials, the whole town was at once in
a blaze. The wretched natives attempted to save
themselves by flight, but the cavalry surrounded the
place and drove them back into the flames. In this
last extremity, the Indians called on the females to
come forward. A number of these heroines had not
waited for the call, but had fought side by side with
their husbands; now, at the general summons, they
rushed forth in one body against the Spanish troops,
who, ashamed to maintain a fight against women, it
is said merely warded off their blows. In the end,
however, the women were all dispersed, and those
who did not perish in the flames escaped into the
woods.
Such was the dreadful battle of Mauvila, the most
sanguinary Indian fight that ever occurred in the ter-
ritory of the United States. It lasted nine hours, and
twenty-five hundred Indians were killed or burnt to
death; the historian Vega even swells this amount to
eleven thousand. The number of Spaniards who
fell amounted only to eighteen; a hundred and fifty
were wounded, and the number of wounds amounted
156 Tasca-Luza.
to seven hundred. They lost all their baggage and
the pearls and valuable articles which they had col-
lected during the whole expedition. Tascaluza was
never heard of after the battle, having doubtless per-
ished in the flames. His son was killed fighting,
and his body was afterwards found. The Spaniards
were so much disheartened by their losses, that they
wished to abandon their enterprise; but Soto could
not endure the thought of returning to his country
without some brilliant and successful achievement.
He had such a command over his followers as to pre-
vent their mutiny, and encouraged them to continue
their march into the interior, from which he was des-
tined never to return.
Tascaluza appears to have been highly famous in
his day, and his memory long continued among the
Indians of Florida, if indeed it be yet extinct. Tus-
caloosa, the present capital of Florida, still preserves
his name, and points out the locality of his dominions.


WITACHUC 0,
A Floridian cacique, was the oldest of three broth-
ers, who divided the government of their tribe among
them, contrary to the general practice in that country;
Vitachuco, probably from his seniority, claiming much
the greater portion. This divided authority appears
not to have led to any family feuds, and when the
Spaniards, under Hernando de Soto, invaded Florida,
in 1539, they found the three brothers living in per-
ſect amity. Soto had penetrated into the country
with a formidable force of horse and foot. He traw-
ersed a great part of East Florida, Southern Georgia
and Alabama, searching everywhere for gold, and
almost everywhere encountering the hostility of the
natives. In the course of his march, he came to the
territory of Vitachuco, which appears to have been
situated on the streams which flow through West
Florida into the Gulf of Mexico. The first town he
visited in this quarter was Ochile, on the frontier of
the territory, consisting of about fifty houses. The
Indians here had made no hostile demonstrations
against the Spaniards, yet Soto did not hesitate to
assault the place. The Indians, overcome by surprise
at this attack, which was made early in the morning,
and astounded by the clangor of the Spanish drums and
trumpets, took instantly to flight. The town was cap-
tured, and many of the inhabitants were made prison-
ers, among whom was Ochile, the brother of Vitachuco.



158 -cauco.
Soto, having Ochile in his possession, made him-
self acquainted with the state of the country, and
persuaded his prisoner to send to Vitachuco and the
remaining brother, such exaggerated accounts of the
Spaniards as, he hoped, would induce them to submit
without offering resistance. With the latter, this ma-
nºeuvre was successful; but Vitachuco was not so
easily gained. Ochile assured him that the Span-
iards were celestial beings, the children of the sun
and moon, and rode on wonderfully strange ani-
mals, who were so swift of foot that the wind could
hardly overtake them. He informed him that they
behaved in the most friendly manner to those who
received them well, but exercised all manner of sever-
ities against their enemies. He begged him, there-
fore, as an act of prudence, to submit at once to their
authority. Vitachuco answered in a tone of deter-
mined and lofty defiance, which, the Spanish historian
declares, surpassed the bravadoes of Ariosto's cava-
liers. He told his brother that he was a coward for
submitting to the invaders, and that he talked like a
woman, or a boy, in advising him to follow his exam-
ple. As for the Spaniards, their story about being
born of the sun and moon was a ridiculous lie; that,
whatever might be their outward pretensions, they
were certainly like all the rest of their countrymen,
vagabonds, traitors, liars, robbers, murderers, and chil-
dren of the devil; that if they were the honest men
they called themselves, they would stay at home and
mind their own business, instead of roaming about,
plundering and butchering people who had done them
no harm. This lecture to the captive chief was

WITACHUCo. 159
accompanied with a message to the Spaniards them-
selves, filled with the most furious and extravagant
menaces. He told them that if they dared to set foot
in his territories, he would overwhelm them with such
plagues and disasters as they had never heard of
before. He would poison the rivers, the lakes, the
springs of water, the trees, the plants, and the very
air. He would command the mountains to fall upon
their heads, and the earth to open and swallow them
up; and if they escaped all these dangers, he would
take them alive, boil one half of them and roast the
other half.
If the Spanish writers have given us a faithful copy
of this manifesto of the Floridian chief, we must allow
that his eloquence reminds us rather of Ancient Pistol
than of Julius Caesar. He soon found, indeed, that
he had talked somewhat too largely. After repeating
these threats for several days, and perceiving that
they produced no effect, he became alarmed. The
Spaniards advanced into his country, and Vitachuco,
learning from various quarters that they were much
more formidable than he had imagined, thought it
prudent to propose terms of peace. A negotiation
ensued, and he went out to meet Soto on friendly
terms. He made many apologies for the insulting
language he had used towards the Spaniards, and
professed his entire willingness to submit his territory
to their authority. He offered to supply them with
provisions, to whatever extent they might wish, and
declared that he was solicitous only to do them honor
and service. Soto received all these declarations
amicably, professed his desire to overlook what had


160 -TA-nuco.
passed, promised to render Vitachuco and his people
every service in his power, and declared that he would
study not to be burdensome. A treaty of peace was
forthwith concluded.
The Spaniards marched into the capital of Vita-
chuco, which contained above two hundred large
houses, besides a great number of smaller buildings.
Here they passed five days, reposing from the fatigues
of their long march, and making merry with their
entertainers. But the craſty Vitachuco, under this
veil of friendship, nourished the most rancorous feel-
ings of hatred toward the Spaniards, and his demon-
strations of amity were only a cover to a scheme by
which he hoped to ensnare his detested enemies and
cut them off to a single man. On the fifth day he
instructed a number of trusty messengers to proceed
to the different parts of his dominions, with orders to
this effect. Strong parties of warriors were to assemble
at different points in the neighborhood of the capital,
and secrete their arms in the woods. On the day
appointed, they were to enter the town in irregular
groups, with loads of wood, water, vegetables, and
other things for the use of the Spaniards, and hold
themselves in readiness to fall upon them at a given
signal. The ºnessengers being despatched, Vitachuco
called together his bravest officers and laid the plot
before them. They applauded his resolution, and
declared themselves ready to sacrifice their lives, if
necessary, for the deliverance of their country.
Having made all necessary dispositions for the suc-
cess of the scheme, Vitachuco informed Soud that he
proposed to honor him by exhibiting a body of his

vita-Hu-ºº. 16.1
troops drawn up in battle array. Soto replied that it
would give him great pleasure to see the Indian army
in martial order, and, to reciprocate the honor, he
would at the same time bring out his own Spaniards
in order of battle. Vitachuco was taken by surprise
at this proposal; he would gladly have dispensed
with this embarrassing honor, but he had no pretence
for declining it without exposing himself to a danger-
ous suspicion.
The peril of Vitachuco was already greater than
he imagined. Before the plot was ripe,it was betrayed.
One of the confidential messengers, taking serious
thought of the enterprise, began to conceive appre-
hensions as to its success; and fearing, moreover, that
it might be revealed to the Spaniards by some one of
his associates, in which case he would be doomed to
death as a main actor in the plot, decided to secure
his own safety by instantly making it known. He
hastened, therefore, to Ortiz, one of Soto's officers,
and gave him a relation of the whole affair. Ortiz
lost not a moment in communicating the intelligence
to his commander. Soto resolved to dissemble, keep
up an appearance of amity with his enemy, and turn
his scheme against him. The plot and counterplot
therefore went on.
The town was skirted by a wide plain, at one
extremity of which was a high mountain covered with
thick woods; at the other end of the plain were two
deep lakes. On the appointed day, the Indians ap-
peared drawn up on this plain, between the mountain
and the lakes. Their number amounted to ten thou-
sand; they were all chosen men, and decked with tall
-

162 -it-cauco.
plumes in their head-dress, so as to make a very
showy appearance. To prevent all suspicion on the
part of the Spaniards, they exhibited no weapons, but
had their bows and arrows concealed in the tall grass
close at hand. The Spanish troops marched out of
the town, every man being instructed how to act,
according to given signals. Soto and Vitachuco
marched on foot at their head. At a certain spot,
Vitachuco was to have given a signal for his men to
snatch up their arms and rush upon the Spaniards.
Just as they were approaching this spot, Soto ordered
a musket to be fired, on which signal, twelve Spanish
soldiers instantly surrounded the Indian chief and
made him prisoner. The Indians, who at this moment
had grasped their weapons and stood ready to make
the assault, were struck with sudden astonishment at
the capture of their leader; but, after wavering a mo-
ment, they set up a loud shout and rushed forward.
Soto sprang upon his horse and led his troops to the
charge. Rushing with the most daring valor upon
the ranks of the enemy, he was received with a .
shower of arrows all aimed at his horse, a practice
common to the Indians, who were not slow in per-
ceiving what immense advantages the use of this
animal gave to the Spaniards. Eight arrows pierced
the body of the steed at the first discharge, and he fell
dead. Soto fell with him, and was in extreme danger,
but the Spanish cavalry instantly rushed forward and
charged the ranks of the Indians. The squadron
consisted of about three hundred men, and such was
the fury of their onset, that the loose ranks of the
natives were totally unable to withstand it. They
VIT-1---- 1.65
broke, dispersed, and fled in every direction. Part
saved themselves in the woods. Nine hundred, the
flower of the army, who found themselves in the rear,
could not escape except by throwing themselves into
one of the lakes, where the water was so deep that,
four feet from the bank, it rose over their heads, and
they were forced to swim.
The Spaniards chased the fugitives across the plain,
till the thick woods, by which it was skirted, prevented
any further pursuit by their cavalry. They then sur-
rounded the lake, where the remainder had taken
refuge. The Indians refused to surrender, and the
battle was continued the whole day with the greatest
obstimacy, the Indians swimming about, and locking
themselves three or four together, on the backs of whom
one stood upright and shot arrows at the Spaniards as
long as they had any remaining. They hoped to make
their escape in the darkness of the night, and not a
man suffered himself to be taken prisoner. The Span-
iards, however, surrounded the lake with their whole
force, and kept up so vigilant a watch through the
night, that not an Indian could approach the shore,
under cover of the water-lilies, without being fired
upon. All this time they continued calling upon them,
offering pardon and good treatment if they would
surrender, and threatening certain death in case of
their refusal.
Fourteen hours the Indians remained swimming in
the lake, with stout hearts and an unconquered deter-
mination to resist all overtures for surrender. At
length, about two in the morning, finding themselves
in a most miserable and exhausted state, half dead


16.1 vºlt-a-Huco.
with cold and the fatigue of sustaining themselves on
the surface of the water, a few of them approached
the shore; but most of these, after touching it, again
plunged into the water, not yet willing to trust to the
promise of the Spaniards. When they saw, however,
that the few who landed were kindly treated, others
followed. At ten in the morning, a body of two hun-
dred surrendered, who had been twenty-four hours in
the water without touching land. They were nearly
drowned, and enormously swollen with the water
they had taken in; yet we are not told that any of
them died in consequence of these unparalleled suffer-
ings. Seven Indians only now remained in the lake,
and these were obstinately determined to perish
sooner than yield. Soto, therefore, sent out half a
dozen of his best swimmers, who plunged into the
water, holding their swords between their teeth, and
pulled out the half-drowned wretches by the hair of
their heads. After proper remedies had restored
them fully to animation, they were asked what could
induce them to persevere in so obstinate and hopeless
a resistance. They replied that they had been hon-
ored by their master, the cacique, with the highest
commands in the army, and they considered them-
selves bound to be true to their trust by sacrificing
themselves in his cause, and thus to set a noble exam-
ple to their children and posterity. They declared that
they felt wretched and degraded in consequence of
having been spared by the clemency of the Spanish
general, and begged him, as a deed of kindness, to put
them to death. This is an instance of firmness and
self-devotion, unsurpassed even in Roman history.

vºlta-Huco. 1.65
The Spaniards, notwithstanding their sanguinary and
rapacious disposition, could not but be touched with
the high loyalty and courage manifested by these sen-
timents, which they felt to be congenial to their own
notions of Castilian honor. Their historian assures
us that they shed tears of admiration at the conduct
of these brave Floridians; and Soto, with the general
approval of all his band, allowed the seven heroes to
return free to their own homes.
Notwithstanding the treachery of Vitachuco, the
Spanish commander judged it not advisable to deal
severely with him, lest the Indians, who revered their
cacique, should be again excited to hostility. He
therefore, after reproaching Vitachuco with his con-
duct, again admitted him to his friendship, and
promised to overlook what had been done, in case the
chief would in future act up to those professions of
fidelity which he had repeatedly made. Vitachuco
renewed his declarations, and Soto entertained him
at his table as formerly. Possibly this time the
cacique might have been sincere in his wish for peace,
after experiencing the superior strength of the Span-
iards; but all amicable feelings were soon dissipated
by the conduct of Soto, who, instead of pursuing a
steady line of policy, adapted to secure the good will
of the Indians, embraced such measures as were
highly offensive and insulting toward them. He
rashly judged that some severe punishment was
necessary to prevent the other natives from imitating
the example of Vitachuco's people. For this purpose
he caused the prisoners taken at the lake to be dis-
tributed among the Spaniards, whom they were to

166 -T-I-O.
serve as slaves during their stay in that quarter.
These proud chiefs and warriors were thus compelled
to act as cooks and scullions, and to perform every
sort of low and menial drudgery. It is no wonder
that this degrading slavery excited their resentment
and indignation. Soto, it is said, intended to liberate
them at his departure, but, as he did not make this
known, the Indians considered themselves doomed to
perpetual bondage. Vitachuco felt the insult most
keenly, and the fierce thirst for revenge, which had
been lulled in the breast of this proud savage, was
awakened anew in all its force. Again he bent his
thoughts upon schemes for the destruction of his
tyrannical enemies.
Soto had taken away the arms of the Indians, yet
it was impossible to deprive them of the liberty of
going at large. In their attendance upon the Span-
iards in their quarters, the Indians had them at any
time within their reach. Vitachuco concerted a
scheme for attacking the Spaniards within doors, by
which he hoped to extirpate them at a single blow.
It was arranged that each Indian should, at a given
signal, fall upon his own master and put him to
death. The plot was kept secret till the day ap-
pointed. At dinner time, on the seventh day after the
battle, Soto and Vitachuco sat together at table, ac-
companied by the chief officers of the army. Just as
the repast was ended, Vitachuco sprang up from his
seat, flourishing and whirling his arms, cracking his
joints in an extraordinary manner, and uttering a yell,
which, we are assured, might have been heard the
greater part of a mile. He then fell upon Soto with
--T-Cºluco. 107
his clenched fist. The blow was so powerful, that
the Spaniard was prostrated upon the ground, sense-
less, in an instant, with his face covered with blood,
and his teeth knocked down his throat. Vitachuco
then threw himself upon his prostrate foe, and a most
extraordinary battle ensued.
All the Indians, at the first signal, started up and
seized such weapons as came to hand-sticks, chairs,
dishes, jugs, spits, fire-brands, pots of soup and hot
water—and hurled them in a shower upon the Span-
iards. Several were killed on the spot; others were
scalded, burnt, and desperately wounded. Scarcely a
man escaped unhurt. They rallied, however, and
took to their arms. The Indians, after the surprise
of the first rush was over, were unable to follow up
the attack with equal spirit and success. The Span-
iards stood on their defence with great courage, and
soon forced their assailants to give ground; but many
of them felt great embarrassment in this ignoble con-
flict, thinking it beneath their dignity to kill their own
slaves. All they would condescend to do, was to
drag them into the great square, and cause them to
be despatched by the arrows of the auxiliary Indians
that accompanied the army; but many of the pris-
oners shook themselves free on the way, throwing
down and trampling upon their masters. In the end,
they nearly all perished. Such was the calamitous
end of nine hundred brave and resolute Floridians.
after an unexampled resistance against fire, water
and the edge of the sword. Vitachuco, at the com-
mencement of the battle, was assailed by the Spanish
officers, who, when they saw their general attacked,

168 WITACHUCo.
drew their swords and rushed upon the cacique. He
instantly fell dead, pierced with twelve wounds.
Vitachuco was one of the most formidable enemies
that the invaders of Florida encountered in the course
of their expedition. Had his prudence been equal to
his courage, the Spaniards might have found in him
an antagonist sufficiently powerful to arrest their pro-
gress, and spare them the long train of sufferings
which closed their disastrous enterprise.



P0 C A H 0 NT A.S.
This celebrated princess, so intimately connected
with some of the most interesting events in the early
history of Virginia, was born about the year 1594.
Her father, Powhatan, was called Emperor of Virginia,
being the most powerful and famous of all the Indian
chiefs in that quarter. His dominions extended from
James' river, called originally Powhatan river, north
to the Patuxent, and also comprised a portion of the
territory on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake.
Captain John Smith, whose adventures have already
been made familiar to the reader, paid a visit to Pow-
hatan in 1607, while on an exploring expedition up
James' river, in company with Captain Newport and
a small party of men. The English were at peace
with the savages, and were received by them in a
friendly manner. The residence of Powhatan was
then at a small town on the bank of the river, in front
of three islets, just below the spot where Richmond
now stands. The Virginian emperor was then about
sixty years of age, gray-headed, and of a lofty de-
meanor. He was dressed in racoon skins, and bore
a crown of feathers. At the entertainment given to
Smith's party, some of the Indians expressed their
apprehensions of the English, and counselled hostili-
ties against them; but they were silenced by Pow-
hatan. “The strangers,” said he, “want but a little
ground, which we can easily spare. Why should we
-o-º-o-NTA-IN EN-L-N1)-


Pocahontas. 171
object to their coming into our territory?" Suppos-
ing this language to have been sincere—the Virginian
emperor had, among his advisers, men who possessed
more shrewdness and foresight than himself.
Whether Pocahontas was present at this interview,
we are not told; nor is there any mention of her till
the occurrence by which she is best known to the
world,—the saving of Smith's life. Powhatan, it is
said, was a great dissembler, and even while address-
ing his visitors in the language of peace and friend-
ship, and interchanging presents with them, was
plotting a scheme for their destruction. Hostilities
broke out shortly after, and before Smith and New-
port could return to Jamestown, that settlement was
attacked by a strong body of the Indians. The Eng-
lish were quite defenceless, having no arms at hand,
as their imbecile governor, Wingfield, fearing a con-
spiracy of the people, had locked up their guns and
prohibited military exercises. Jamestown would
have been taken, and the inhabitants massacred, but
for a fortunate accident. A cannon shot, from a vessel
in the river, cut off the branch of a tree, which fell
among a party of the Indians who were rushing to
the assault. This so terrified them that they fled in
all directions and abandoned the undertaking.
A treaty of peace followed, and Smith, with a party
of men, made several excursions into the interior to
obtain supplies of provisions. The rivers were cow-
ered with innumerable flocks of wild fowl, and the
woods abounded with deer and turkeys. The neces-
sities of the colonists were soon relieved, but the
restless activity of Smith, and a desire to silence the



172 Po-HON-T-S-
murmurs of some of his countrymen, who asserted
that he had not made sufficient endeavors to explore
the head streams of the Chickahominy, induced him
to continue his enterprises during the season of plenty.
In the winter of 1607, he collected a small number
of followers, and proceeded once more in a barge up
that river as far as it was navigable. Having left the
barge in a wide bay, out of the reach of the Indians,
with positive orders that none of the crew should
leave her on any account, he rowed farther up, in a
small canoe, attended by two Englishmen and two
friendly Indians. He was scarcely out of sight, when
the crew of the barge, impatient of restraint, disobeyed
his orders and went on shore.
At the very spot where they landed, a body of three
hundred savages, headed by Opechancanough, brother
to Powhatan, were lying in ambush, watching for a
favorable opportunity to attack the barge. One of
the Englishmen, straying from the rest, fell into their
hands, and from him they extorted information of the
object and route of Smith. They immediately put
the captive to death in a cruel manner, and followed
Smith with all their force and with the utmost cau-
tion. Twenty miles up the river, they discovered his
two English companions fast asleep by a fire in the
woods: they immediately shot them with their arrows,
and then followed on the track of Smith, who had
gone to shoot some wildfowl for provisions. Smith
was proceeding up the bank of the river, not far from
his canoe, when he discovered the savages close upon
him. He endeavored to retreat, and, finding the
enemy pressing hard upon him, shielded himself by

PoCALIONTAs. 173
tying his Indian guide to his left arm, while he exer-
cised the right in his defence. In this manner he
contrived to load and fire his musket, and ward off
the arrows of his assailants, while he retreated slowly
toward the water. He shot three of them dead,
wounded several others, and, in this manner, of facing
one way and walking another, kept the enemy, who
were astonished at his bravery and skill, at a safe dis-
tance. But, not being able to pay close attention to
his steps, he sank, at last, into a miry spot, so deep
that, owing to his embarrassing connection with his
guide, he was unable to extricate himself. Here he
remained a considerable time, the savages not daring
to attack him so long as he held the musket. But,
the cold having benumbed his limbs, he could make
no further exertion; yet no man dared to lay handson
him, and those who made the nearest approach to him
were observed to tremble with fear. He at length
threw down his arms, and made signs that he had
surrendered.
The Indians now pulled him out of the mud and took
him to the fire where his two companions had been
killed. They chaſed his benumbed limbs and restored
them to activity. He called for their chief, and
Opechancanough appeared. Smith, with perfectself-
possession, entered into such conversation with him
as could be carried on by signs. He had an ivory
pocket-compass with him, which he showed to Ope-
chancanough and his attendants. “Much they mar-
velled,” says the narrative, “at the playing of the fly
and needle, which they could see so plainly and yet
not touch, because of the glass that covered them.


174 Pocation.T.A.S.
But when he demonstrated, by that globe-like jewel,
the roundnesse of the earth and skies, the spheare of
the sunne and moone and starres, and how the sunne
did chase the nighte about the world continually—the
greatnesse of the land and sea, the diversity of the
nations, the varietie of complexion, and how we were
to them antipodes, and many other such like matters,
they all stood as amazed with admiration.” If this
account of the old narrator be correct, Captain John
Smith may claim the honor of having been the first
scientific lecturer in the United States. How much
of his lecture the savages understood, we are not
informed.
If not highly edified by Smith's explanation of the
Copernican system, they were amused sufficiently to
listen to him for some time; but, an hour afterwards,
they bound him to a tree and prepared to shoot him.
When their bows were bent, Opechancanough stepped
forward and held up the compass, on which they all
threw down their weapons, and Smith was led off in
triumph to Orapaxe. They marched in Indian file,
Opechancanough being in the centre, with the Eng-
lish swords and muskets borne before him. The
prisoner followed, held fast by three of the savages,
and on each side of him marched a file of six, with
their arrows ready to let fly in case of an attempt to
escape. When they reached the town, the women
and children flocked in crowds to see the prisoner
The Indians formed a circle round Opechancanough
and sung and danced. Smith was then placed in a
large log wigwam, and supplied so liberally with pro-
visions that he imagined he was to be fattened for
-------N-T-S- 175
slaughter. They took him to a sick man to cure
him, but Smith refused to prescribe unless they would
permit him to go to Jamestown for medicines, which
was denied. A design was entertained by the In-
dians, at this time, to make another attack upon
Jamestown; and they had so high an opinion of the
courage and talents of Smith, that they endeavored
to gain his assistance, by the offer of a large tract of
land, with as many women as he chose to demand.
But he rejected all their offers, and assured them that
they could never succeed against the English; in
proof of which, he described their formidable means
of defence by their muskets and cannon, and the ter-
rible apparatus of mines, by which whole armies
might be blown into the air. To convince them that
his accounts were not exaggerated, he wrote on a
leaf of his pocket-book a note to his friends in James-
town, directing them to frighten the Indians, and send
him certain articles which he wanted. The savages,
who carried this note, came back terrified beyond
description, and bringing the verythings that Smith
had sent for, to the utter amazement of the whole
tribe, who were unable to penetrate the mystery of
the “speaking leaf.”
Failing in their scheme of attacking Jamestown, the
Indians carried their prisoner from place to place,
through all the dominions of Powhatan, that the
whole tribe might enjoy the spectacle of the renowned
Englishman, led in triumph by their warriors. At
Werowocomoco he was brought into the presence of
Powhatan. The savage emperor was dressed in his
racoon skin robe, and sat on a wooden throne, some-



176 Pº-Hº-T->.
thing like a bedstead, placed before a large fire. On
his right and left sat two young girls, his daughters."
His counsellors, adorned with shells and feathers, were
ranged on each side of the wigwam, with an equal
number of women standing behind them. On the
entrance of Smith, the attendants of Powhatan
greeted him with a loud shout. The queen of Ap-
pamatox was directed to bring him water to wash, and
another woman wiped his hands with a bunch of feath-
ers. These acts of savage politeness seem to have
been thought due to the prisoner, on account of his
reputation for courage and skill, as at this time no
thoughts of clemency were entertained by his ene-
mies. A short consultation between Powhatan and
his warriors was terminated by a resolution to put
the captive to instant death, as a man whose superior
bravery and genius rendered him very dangerous to
the Indians.
No time was lost in preparing to carry this decision
into effect. Two large stones were brought in and
placed at the feet of the emperor. Smith was seized
by as many of the Indians as could lay hands on him,
dragged forward, and his head laid on the stones. A
heavy club was then produced, and laid before Pow-
hatan, for whom was reserved the honor of beating
out the brains of the victim. The grimly-painted
warriors looked on in silence, with sensations of awe
at the spectacle. A dreaded and formidable enemy
was to be sacrificed for their safety; but in their most
savage mood, they were not insensible to the emotion
of pity for the hard ſate of a foe, whose bravery they
could not but admire. And now comes a scene
Pocahontas. 177
which has never failed to touch the heart and excite
the interest of the reader—and one which has few
parallels in history. The fatal club was uplified; one
instant more and the wretched victim had been struck
dead, when Pocahontas, the young, amiable and
beauteous daughter of the emperor, uttered a scream
of terror and agony, which arrested the blow. With
dishevelled hair and eyes streaming with tears, she
threw herself upon the body of Smith, clasped his
head in her arms, and, by the most imploring looks,
directed towards her father, solicited the life of
the captive. The royal executioner suspended his
blow in amazement, and looked round upon his war-
riors. Either a respect for the gallant prisoner, or
admiration of the noble behavior of his fair friend,
had moved their hearts. Powhatan read in their
looks a sentiment of mercy, and spared the life of the
doomed victim. Such is the narrative of the most
striking and dramatic incident in the whole history
of the North American Indians.
Pocahontas was about thirteen years of age, but
we have not the means of knowing whether simple
humanity or a more tender sentiment filled her breas:
on this occasion. Smith, though saved from death,
was still detained a captive. Nantaquaus, the brother
of Pocahontas, a brave and finely-shaped young
man, also took a deep interest in the welfare of the
prisoner. Through his influence with Powhatan.
the hardships of the captive were much alleviated.
Smith employed himself in making bells, beads, and
copper trinkets for Pocahontas, and bows, arrows and
L.

178 PO-HON-T-S-

other articles for her father. After a while, Pow-
hatan was persuaded to set him free. This act was
preceded by a strange ceremony. Powhatan dis-
guised himself and two hundred of his men in the
most hideous manner, and caused Smith to be carried
into a large wigwam in the woods, where he was
laid on a mat by a fire. Ere long he was alarmed by
a most terrific howling, and imagined that the hour
of his execution had at last arrived. Powhatan and
his grim masqueraders burst into the wigwam, and,
instead of delivering a sentence of death, announced
to Smith that he was at liberty, and that he and the
emperor were friends. He requested Smith to send
him, on his arrival at Jamestown, a pair of cannon and
a grindstone, in requital of which, he would give him
the country of Capahowsick, and love him as his son
Nantaquaus. Smith returned to his countrymen,
and did not fail to reward the generous Pocahontas
by such presents of toys and finery as he judged
most acceptable to a savage belle. Powhatan was
now on good terms with the settlers, and Pocahontas
lent her friendly offices in the most effectual manner.
A scarcity of provisions was felt at Jamestown; dis-
content and a mutinous spirit began to prevail. Po-
cahontas visited the place every four or five days,
always with a supply of provisions, by which the
lives of many persons were saved, and the affairs of
the colony relieved from much embarrassment.
During Smith's administration as president of the
colony, in 1609, the friendly relations between the
Indians and the settlers experienced some disturbance.
The historians of Virginia accuse Powhatan of du-


Po-Lo-T-s. 179
plicity and treachery, but not, as it appears, on any
very plausible grounds. Smith, with a body of
armed men, paid a visit to him at Werowocomoco,
and requested a supply of provisions. The emperor
pleaded poverty, and frankly confessed that he dis-
liked the English, and should be glad to get rid of
them. There was no duplicity here. A speech
which he made to Smith, while discussing the ques-
tion of peace and war, is worth quoting. “I have
seen two generations of my people die. Not a man
of the two generations is alive now but myself. I
know the difference between peace and war better
than any man in my country. I am now grown old,
and must die soon; my authority must descend to
my brothers, Opitchapan. Opechancanough and Cata-
tough; then to my two sisters, and then to my two
daughters. I wish them to know as much as I do,
and that your love to them may be like mine to you.
Why will you take by force what you may have qui-
etly by love? Why will you destroy us who supply
you with food? What can you get by war? We
can hide our provisions and run into the woods; then
you will starve for wronging your friends. Why are
you jealous of us? We are unarmed, and willing to
give you what you ask, if you come in a friendly
manner, and not with swords and guns, as if to make
war upon an enemy. I am not so simple as not to
know that it is much better to eat good meat, sleep
comfortably, live quietly with my wives and children,
laugh and be merry with the English, and trade for
their copper and hatchets, than to run away from
them, and to lie cold in the woods, ſeed on acorns,

180 PoCAHON-Tas.

roots and such trash, and be so hunted that I can nei-
ther eat nor sleep. In these wars, my men must sit
up watching, and, if a twig break, they all cry out,
*Here comes Captain Smith!" So I must end my
miserable life. Take away your guns and swords,
the cause of all our jealousy, or you may all die in
the same manner.”
Smith, however, could not be persuaded that Pow-
hatan was sincere, and persisted in keeping his guard
near him; so the meeting broke up. Symptoms of
distrust now increased on both sides, and, before long,
Powhatan formed a plan to attack the English, and
put Smith to death. Pocahontas obtained informa-
tion of this design, and lost not a moment in com-
municating it to her English friend. At the dead of
night she left her father's house, and traversed the
wilderness till she reached the quarters of Smith,
where, with tears streaming from her eyes, she in-
formed him of his danger, and besought him to provide
for his safety. Warned by this advice, the English
stood upon their guard, and foiled the attempt of the
savages. The colony of Virginia may be said thus
to have twice owed its preservation to the noble-
minded Pocahontas.
After Smith left the country for England, in con-
sequence of the accident by which he was severely
injured, we hear no more of Pocahontastill 1612,
when Captain Argall, who had just arrived from
England, proceeded on a trading voyage up the Poto-
mac. Hostilities had prevailed between the settlers
and the Indians, during most of the period subse-
quent to the above adventure, but Argall had estab-



Po-Ho-T-S- 181

lished friendly relations with the tribes on the river.
Relying on this, none of them apprehended any hostile
measures at Argall's visit. Pocahontas, for some
reason which is not known, had left her father, and
was at that time residing on the Potomac, in the
neighborhood of a chief named Japazaws. This
came to the ears of Argall, and he immediately con-
ceived the perfidious design of making her a prisoner,
either for the purpose of holding her as a hostage to
check any designed hostilities on the part of her
father, or for the mercenary purpose of extorting a
ransom. For the accomplishment of this scheme, he
tampered with Japazaws, whose honor and integrity
were not proof against the attractions of a bright
copper kettle, which was offered as the price of his
treachery. A bargain was struck, and the perfidious
chief betrayed the guardian angel of Virginia into the
hands of a people whom her generous and compas-
sionate spirit had often saved from famine and the
tomahawk.
The only circumstance that can palliate the treach-
ery of Japazaws, is the fact that it was accompanied
with a promise from the English captain, that no hurt
should befall Pocahontas, and that she should be
treated with every care and respect. The plot to get
her into the hands of the English, was contrived with
some art. The wife of Japazaws was employed to
entice her on board the ship of Argall, which lay in the
river. Pocahontas had no curiosity to visit the ship,
having already seen many vessels during her frequent
visits to Jamestown. The wife of Japazaws therefore
pretended great anxiety to see one, but declared her-


182 Pocahon TAs.

self unwilling to go on board, unless Pocahontas
would accompany her. The latter, having no ac-
quaintance with Argall, at first hesitated, but, giving
way to the solicitations of her friend, at length con-
sented. Pocahontas was received so amicably that
she dismissed all her fears, and presently strayed
from her companions into the gun-room, where she
was secured as a prisoner. Japazaws and his wife
counterfeited great sorrow and indignation, to conceal
the share they had borne in this base transaction.
Argall sailed with his prize for Jamestown. Poca-
hontas was overwhelmed with grief at finding her-
self in captivity, not being able to conjecture what
fate was designed for her. But having received
assurances that considerations of policy alone had
induced the English to seize her person, in order to
gain more favorable terms in their negotiations with
her father, her apprehensions and sorrow subsided.
The English immediately sent a message to Pow-
hatan, informing him of the capture of his daughter,
and demanding of him the prisoners, guns and other
articles which he had at various times taken from
them. They had, however, made a miscalculation in
their measures. Either the affection of Powhatan for
his daughter had cooled, of which there is some
probability, considering the favor she had always
shown to his enemies, the English, and her late sepa-
ration from him, or motives of policy and a regard for
his people withheld him from making any sacrifice or
concession to regain his daughter. He sent no mes-
sage in reply; but two of his sons, on the faith of a
truce, visited Jamestown, to inquire into the situation


Pocanon-As. 183
of their sister. On their return, they made such a
report as apparently to satisfy him with regard to her
safety, but he said nothing of the proposed ransom.
At the end of three months, by the advice of his coun-
cil, he released several English prisoners, each with a
broken musket, and opened a negotiation, by offering,
in case his daughter should be immediately given up,
to pay five hundred bushels of corn, and pledge his
constant friendship. But this negotiation failed. The
English demanded the remainder of the muskets
taken by the Indians. Powhatan affirmed that they
were lost. The two parties distrusted each other,
and the English heard no more of Powhatan for a
long time.
Early in 1613, Sir Thomas Dale, the former gov-
ernor of the colony, took Pocahontas on board a ves-
sel, and sailed up the Potomac to visit her father.
On arriving at Werowocomoco, they found that Pow-
hatan was absent, and the Indians appeared disposed to
fight them. The English, to intimidate them, burnt
many of their wigwams, and sent threatening mes-
sages throughout the neighborhood. Some of the
Indians were induced to renounce hostilities, and a
partial pacification was effected. Two of the brothers
of Pocahontas went on board the vessel, and were
delighted to meet her and find her happy. No inter-
course could be obtained with Powhatan, and Dale
returned to Jamestown, without accomplishing the
chief purpose of his expedition.
Pocahontas, in the mean time, had embraced the
Christian religion, and was baptized at Jamestown, by
the name of Rebecca. Her usual appellation, while

184 Poc-o-T-s.

living among the English, was “the Lady Rebecca."
Her desire to return to her own kindred was material-
ly weakened by an attachment which had grown up
between her and a young Englishman, Mr. John Rolfe,
who bore a high character in the colony. He now
proposed to make her his wife, an important step,
which was submitted for consideration to Sir Thomas
Dale, and other persons of high authority. No ob-
stacle being offered, Pocahontas sent her brother
information of the design. He communicated the
intelligence to Powhatan, who gave a ready consent
to the match, and despatched Opachisco, his brother,
and two of his sons, to be present at the marriage. In
April, 1613, Rolfe and Pocahontas were married at
Jamestown.
The union appears to have been an eminently
happy one, and Pocahontas expressed not the slight-
est wish to return to a savage life. In 1616, she left
Virginia for England, in company with her husband,
Sir Thomas Dale and a number of Indians. They
arrived at Plymouth in June, and proceeded to Lon-
don, where “the Lady Rebecca" became an object
of great curiosity to all descriptions of people. She
was able to converse with readiness in the English
language, and attracted the admiration of all by her
unaffected grace, and the child-like simplicity of her
manners. She enjoyed the particular friendship of
Lord and Lady Delaware, by whom she was taken
to court, where she received great attention. But we
are informed that the aristocratic pride of the monarch,
James I., was greatly shocked that one of his plebeian
subjects had dared to marry the daughter of a king.



-------N-T-S- 185
Such a scruple was worthy of James, in some respects
the weakest and silliest prince that ever sat on the
throne of England. -
The meeting which took place in England between
Pocahontas and Smith, has something in it touching
and pathetic, though the circumstances are rather
obscurely denoted. Smith, at the time of her arrival,
was on the point of embarking for New England.
He went to visit her at Brentford, in the neighborhood
of London, where she had taken up her residence, to
avoid the smoke and tumult of the great capital,
which could not but be disagreeable to one accus-
tomed to the sunny skies and green solitudes of Vir-
ginia. It appears that she had been made to believe, we
know not for what purpose, that Smith was dead, and
now seeing him, suddenly, in her presence, she gave
way to the most unbounded expressions of joy and
affection, threw herself upon his neck, and called him
her father. Smith, however, with too frigid an adhe-
rence, perhaps, to what he judged to be the decorum
of polished society, did not return her caresses with
equal warmth, on which the artless young woman
turned away from him, and hid her face with her
hands. After some entreaty she conquered her feel-
ings, and addressed him in the following words:
“You promised my father that whatever was yours
should be his, and that you and he would be all one.
When you were a stranger in our country, you called
Powhatan father; and for the same reason I will now
call you so." Smith endeavored to make her under-
stand the absurd and jealous pride of king James,
which would not allow him to claim the paternity,

1S6 Pocanon Tas.

even by name, of an Indian princess. She continued,
in a firmer and more earnest tone, “You were not
afraid to come into my father's country and strike a
fear into everybody but myself; and are you afraid
here to let me call you father? I tell you then, I
will call you father, and you shall call me child, and
so I will forever be of your country and kindred.
They all told us you were dead, and I knew not
otherwise, till I came to Plymouth. But Powhatan
commanded Tomocomo to seek you out, and know
the truth, because your countrymen are much given
to lying.”
We are not told how far the sturdy veteran, Smith,
was moved by this pathetic appeal, which shows the
frankness, amiability and artless innocence of Poca-
hontas in the most beautiful manner. Smith, not-
withstanding the cool and cautious reception he gave
his benefactor, exerted himself to promote her inter-
ests at court, and addressed a petition to the queen
in her behalf, from which we make the following
extracts, which may show that he by no means appre-
ciated, too lightly, her character and services. “If
ingratitude be a deadly poison to all honest virtues,
I must be guilty of that crime if I should omit any
means to be thankful. So it was that about ten
years ago, being in Virginia, and taken prisoner by
the power of Powhatan, their chief king, I received
from this great savage exceeding great courtesy,
especially from his son Nantaquaus, the manliest,
comeliest, boldest spirit I ever saw in a savage, and
his sister Pocahontas, the king's most dear and well-
beloved daughter, being but a child of twelve or thir-

Pocanon TAs. 187
teen years of age, whose compassionate, pitiful heart
of my desperate estate, gave me much cause to respect
her. I being the first Christian this proud king and
his attendants ever saw, and thus enthralled in their
power, I cannot say I felt the least occasion of want
that was in the power of those, my mortal foes, to
prevent, notwithstanding all their threats. After
some six weeks' fattening amongst these savage cour-
tiers, at the minute of my execution, she hazarded
the beating out of her own brains to save mine, and
not only that, but so prevailed with her father, that I
was conducted to Jamestown, where I found about
eight and thirty miserable, poor and sick creatures to
keep possession of all those large territories in Vir-
ginia. Such was the weakness of this poor common-
wealth, as, had not the savages fed us, we directly had
starved; and this relief, most gracious queen, was
commonly brought us by the lady Pocahontas. Not-
withstanding all those passages, when unconstant
fortune turned our peace to war, this tender virgin
would still not spare to dare to visit us, and by her
our fears have been often appeased, and our wants
still supplied. When her father, with the utmost of
his policy and power, sought to surprise me, having
but eighteen with me, the dark night could not affright
her from coming through the irksome woods, and,
with watered eyes, gave me intelligence, with her best
advice to escape his fury, which had he seen, he had
surely slain her. Jamestown, with her wild train,
she as freely visited as her father's habitation, and,
during the time of two or three years, she next under
God, was still the instrument to prevent this colony

188 POCALIONTAs.

from death, famine, and utter confusion. As yet, I
never begged anything of the state, and it is my want of
ability, and her exceeding deserts; your birth, means
and authority; her birth, virtue, want and simplicity,
doth make me thus bold, humbly to beseech your
majesty to take this knowledge of her, though it be
from one so unworthy to be the reporter as myself,
her husband's estate not being able to make her fit to
attend your majesty.”
It does not appear that any very copious shower
of royal bounty was the answer to this prayer. The
notorious parsimony of the king may account for his
neglecting to take notice of Pocahontas in any sub-
stantial form. Tomocomo, a Virginian chief who
accompanied her to England, was not slow to discover
the meanness of the English monarch, nor backward in
expressing his opinion. He was introduced to James,
but found that person so unkingly, that he refused to
believe him a sovereign, until by confirmatory circum-
stances he was satisfied, and then, with a melancholy
countenance, he said: “You gave Powhatan a white
dog, which he fed as himself. But your king has
given me nothing; yet I am better than your white
dog." The sarcastic wit of the barbarian should have
extorted a bounty from the lord of St. James' palace,
but probably no courtier had the audacity to remind
the king that Powhatan had treated a white dog with
more liberality than he had treated a prince.
Pocahontas, in less than a year after her arrival in
England, prepared to return to America, but, on the
point of her embarkation at Gravesend, she fell sick
and died, at the age of twenty-two. Her death dis-


Po-A11-T.A.-- 189

played a happy combination of savage fortitude and
Christian submission. All who witnessed her last mo-
ments, were affected by the lively and edifying picture
of piety and virtue which her language and demeanor
exhibited at the approach of the fatal hour. Her infant
son, Thomas Rolfe, was left at Plymouth with Sir
Lewis Steukly, who took charge of his maintenance
and education. He returned afterwards to Virginia,
and became a man of fortune and eminence there.
His descendants, at the present day, form a very
numerous and highly respectable progeny.
The name of Pocahontas adorns the brightest page
in the history of the natives of America. In what-
ever light we view her character, either as a maiden,
a wife, or a mother, she is equally entitled to our
respect and admiration. Heroic and amiable, con-
stant and courageous, humane, generous, discreet and
pious, she combined in an extraordinary manner the
virtues and perfections of both savage and civilized
nature. The union of so many qualities honorable
to the female sex and to the human species, should
never be forgotten, in forming our estimate of the
American race.
-------

PHILIP.
Massasoit, the sachem of the tribe of Indians who
dwelt in the neighborhood of Boston, and who gave
his name to the state of Massachusetts, had two sons,
whom the English named Alexander and Philip.
Massasoit was the friend of the English as long as he
lived. At the period of his death, in 1661, the settle-
ments had extended inland beyond Connecticut river,
and the white population of New England probably
amounted to forty thousand souls. The Indians, at
the same period, might have numbered thirty thou-
sand; but the whites were continually increasing,
and the Indians diminishing. The latter became
jealous and distrustful as they saw the former en-
croaching on their territories, and themselves cooped
up in narrow precincts, where their neighbors could
watch them and keep them in subjection. It is true
these encroachments were always made by purchase,
and the prices were duly paid, but the Indians com-
monly repented of their bargains, or forgot them, and
saw nothing but injustice and usurpation in the gradual
extension of the English settlements over the country
of which they had formerly held undisturbed posses-
-----
Alexander, the elder son, inherited the authority
of Massasoit, but died after a reign of a few months.
Philip succeeded him in 1662. His Indian name
was Metacom. Hubbard, the old historian of New

192 PHILLP.
England, informs us that, “for his ambitious and
haughty spirit, he was nicknamed king Philip.” He
was chief of the Pokanokets, or Wampanoags, a tribe
of the Narragansets, who dwelt around the bay of
Rhode Island. Philip's chief seat was at Mount
Hope, now Bristol. He appears to have nourished
hostile feelings against the English at a very early
period. Immediately after his accession to the com-
mand, rumors of plots and treacheries began to alarm
the settlers. At the court of Plymouth, on the 6th of
August, 1662, Philip made his appearance to clear
himself of the charges made against him. We are
unable to say whether he had any settled plan of hos-
tilities at this period. The accusation of plotting to
cut off the English, he utterly denied, and earnestly
requested the continuance of the friendship which
had subsisted between them and his father. A treaty
was accordingly drawn up, signed by Philip and his
uncle, and witnessed by other Indian sachems. This
seems to have quieted the fears of the Plymouth peo-
ple, and we hear little more of Philip's designs for
eight or nine years.
During this period, the Pokanokets increased in
numbers, and acquired additional strength by obtain-
ing fire-arms from the English. Their ancient bows
and arrows were now thrown aside. Philip was
active in studying the condition of the settlers, and
making himself acquainted with their strength, policy
and designs. Historians have given him credit for a
grand scheme, conceived with deep foresight, and
carried on with the most crafty and persevering dis-
simulation—a scheme to lull the suspicions of the


PHILIP. 193
whites by a constant show of friendship, till a general
combination of all the Indian tribes could be formed
to extirpate them at a single blow. There was proba-
bly less systematic plotting and precise calculation in
the Indian politics, than is commonly imagined. The
savages, irascible, vindictive, reckless and impetuous,
could not avoid collisions with their neighbors.
Threats of hostility were uttered from time to time,
and the fears of the colonists magnified these explo-
sions of an angry temper into an organized scheme
of resistance. All we know with certainty, is, that
the broils with the Indians continued to multiply, till
the English were fully persuaded that a plot was
going on for their destruction. They felt that some-
thing must be done to meet the coming storm, or dis-
sipate it before it should-burst on their heads.
In April, 1671, Philip was discovered to be making
warlike preparations. The English summoned him
to a conference with the Plymouth government at
Taunton, to which place he came with a band of war-
riors, attired, painted and armed as for battle. A
council was held in the meeting-house, one side of
which was occupied by the Indians, and the other by
the English. Philip charged the whites with depre-
dations upon his cornfields, and declared that he was
arming not against the Euglish, but against the Nar-
ragansets. This was contradicted by such proofs
that Philip was utterly confounded and driven to a
confession of the whole plot, declaring “that it was
the naughtiness of his own heart that put him upon
that rebellion, and nothing of any provocation from
the English.” He signed a submission, with four of
M



194 PHILLP.
his councillors, agreeing to give up all the fire-arms
among his people, to be kept by the government of
Plymouth as long as they should “see reason.” The
guns he had with him were accordingly given up,
and the remainder he promised to deliver at Plymouth
at a specified time.
The disarming of his men does not speak much for
Philip's sagacity. He certainly repented of this step,
as he failed to deliver the remaining guns at the time
fixed. The Plymouth people sent a messenger to
Boston, complaining of him for not keeping his word,
as the government of Massachusetts had acted as
umpires in this affair. Philip, however, had fore-
seen this, and was at Boston as early as the Plymouth
messenger. Josselyn, the English traveller, saw him
on this occasion. “The roytelet of the Pokanokets,”
he informs us, “had a coat on, and buskins set thick
with beads in pleasant wild work, and a broad belt
of the same. His accoutrements were valued at
twenty pounds.” “Their beads are their money;
of these there are two sorts, blue beads and white
beads; the first is their gold, the last their silver.
These they work out of certain shells, so cunningly
that neither Jew nor devil can counterfeit.” Philip
had the address to satisfy the government at Boston,
and a favorable report was carried back to Plymouth.
A general congress of commissioners from all the
colonies was projected to meet at Plymouth for the
final settlement of affairs with Philip. This congress
was held in September, 1671. Philip confessed him-
self the author of the troubles, and stipulated to pay
a hundred pounds “in such things as he had,” as an
PHILLP. 195
indemnity for the expense to which he had subjected
the colony. Furthermore, he covenanted to deliver
five wolves' heads, if he could get them, or as many as
he could procure until they came to five wolves' heads,
yearly.
The treaty of Plymouth restored tranquility to the
colonies for two or three years. But, in 1674, the
tempest of hostilities, which had been repeatedly lulled
by negotiations, burst suddenly out in all its fury.
The war, commonly known as Philip's war, lasted for
nearly three years, and threatened the total destruc-
tion of all the New England colonies. The first act
in this war was the murder of John Sassamon by the
Indians. This man was a subject of Philip, and a
rowing, adventurous character. While he lived in
the neighborhood of the English, he mastered their
language and became a convert to Christianity. He
showed a great aptitude for learning, acquired the art
of reading and writing, and translated a portion of the
Bible into Indian. He was for a time employed as a
schoolmaster at Natick; then he returned to his peo-
ple, and was engaged by Philip as his seeretary. But,
ever unquiet, he again went among the English, who
received him in a friendly manner, in consequence of
his professions of sincere repentance, for it appears
that he had gone back to paganism when he rejoined
his own people. Sassamon was re-baptized, received
into the church, and officiated as a Sºnday teacher.
In 1672 he was sent as a missionary to the Namas-
kets and other Indians, in Middleborough. While
living here, he obtained intelligence of Philip's plot


196 PHILIP.
against the English; he immediately went to Ply-
mouth, and gave information of it to the governor.
Sassamon was perfectly aware of the risk he ran
in making this disclosure. He enjoined strict secrecy
upon the English, assuring them that if the Indians
suspected him of giving information of their designs,
his life would be forfeited. Yet, by some means, it
became known to Philip, and, early in the spring of
1675, Sassamon was missing. Suspicion imme-
diately arose that he had been murdered, and, after a
search, his body was found in Assawomset pond, in
Middleborough. The murderers, hoping to escape
suspicion, left his hat and gun upon the ice, that it
might be supposed he had drowned himself, or fallen
in by accident; but, upon an examination of the body,
it appeared that his neck had been broken. No doubt
now existed that this murder had been committed by
order of Philip. Three Indians were arrested, and
put upon trial at Plymouth, in June, before a jury
composed of eight English and four Indians; they
were all found guilty of the murder, and executed.
One of them, before the execution, confessed his guilt.
The dead corpse, it was said, bled at the approach of
one of the murderers!
Philip was highly exasperated, when he heard that
the murderers of Sassamon had been executed. He
did not deny their agency in the affair, but contended
that “the English had nothing to do with one In-
dian's killing another.” At this time, he was train-
ing his forces, but had not fully matured his plans.
The murder of Sassamon precipitated the conflict.
Philip could no longer restrain his vindictive spirit,
PHILIP. 197
and rushed at once into hostilities. The Narragan-
sets, who had entered into the plot, and were to fur-
mish four thousand warriors, were not yet ready, and
the war commenced without that combination of the
savages, which might have given them victory at
last. The first attack was made upon Swansey, a
frontier town, on the 24th of June, 1675. The In-
dians waylaid the inhabitants as they were returning
from meeting, it being a fast day, and killed several
of them. Consternation immediately spread through-
out the country. The minds of the people had for
some time been brooding over the idea of an impend-
ing calamity, and their superstitious fears were
aroused by portentous omens. Cotton Mather re-
lates, with all the gravity of a historian, that, “in a
clear, still, sunshiny morning, there were divers per-
sons in Malden, who heard, in the air, on the south-
east of them, a great gun go off, and presently there-
upon, the report of small guns, like musket-shot, very
thick, discharging as if there had been a battle. This
was at a time when there was nothing visible done
in any part of the colony to occasion such noises.
But that which most of all astonished them was the
flying of bullets, which came singing over their heads,
and seemed very near to them; after which, the sound
of drums passing along westward was very audible;
and, on the same day, in Plymouth colony, in several
places, invisible troops of horse were heard riding to
and fro." Other writers speak of an eclipse of the
moon, in which the figure of an Indian scalp was
seen imprinted on the disk of that orb. The perfect
form of an Indian bow appeared in the sky; strange.


198 PHL-L-
howlings of wolves were heard at night. Such were
the wild and superstitious fancies, which, at that sea-
son of alarm and apprehension, filled the minds of the
colonists with terror.
Swansey was immediately abandoned by the in-
habitants, and, a few days after, burnt by the Indians.
Taunton, Middleborough and Dartmouth, quickly
after, shared the same fate. The colonists flew to
arms. Massachusetts sent companies of volunteers
to Plymouth colony, but the Indians dared not face
the English in the open field. They practised a sys-
tem of ambushes and surprises. When the troops
came upon them, they fled into the swamps and for-
ests, where they could not be pursued, and, while the
English were marching in one direction, the savages
were burning, ravaging, plundering and laying waste
in another. On the 18th of June, Philip, with a very
strong force, was discovered in a swamp at Pocasset,
near Taunton river. By the edge of the swamp
were a hundred wigwams, newly constructed of green
bark. A few Indians showed themselves, and were
immediately attacked by the English, who, by this
means, were drawn into an ambush, and lost fifteen
of their number. They then surrounded the swamp,
although it was nearly seven miles in circuit, in hopes
of starving out the Indians, but, after a blockade of thir-
teen days, the latter escaped across the river in birch
canoes, which they had constructed during this inter-
val. Philip fled to the country on Connecticut river,
from which quarter he made incursions upon the set-
tlements. His finances being low at this time, he cut
his coat, which was made entirely of wampumpeng,
PHILIP. 199
to pieces, and distributed them throughout the coun-
try among the Nipmuck sachems and other Indians.
Philip's coat appears to have been a kind of portable
treasury:
In September, a company of between eighty and
ninety English, under Captain Lathrop, of Beverly,
marched from Hadley to Greenfield, to bring away
the corn and other valuables from that town. Hav-
ing loaded their teams, and commenced their march
homeward, they stopped on the road to gather grapes,
and were ambushed and attacked by the Indians at
Sugar-loaf Hill. The attack was so sudden, and the
English were so unprepared for defence, that, before
they could take any measures for their safety, almost
every man was killed. The Indians were nearly a
thousand in number. A company of seventy Eng-
lish, under Captain Moseley, being on a reconnoitring
excursion in the vicinity, were drawn to the scene of
action by the report of the musketry. They imme-
diately attacked the Indians, with great resolution,
and continued the fight from eleven in the forenoon
till nearly night, when they were obliged to desist.
On their retreat, they were joined by another body
of a hundred English, with sixty Mohegans. The
attack was then renewed, and the Indians were com-
pelled to retreat in their turn. The disaster of La-
throp's company was a severe blow to the colony of
Massachusetts, and filled the land with mourning.
The persons who ſell were all “choice young men,
the flower of Essex county.”
Terror and excitement prevailed throughout the
country for a whole year. The Indians, skulking


200 PHILIP.
from covert to covert, waylaid the inhabitants upon
their journeys, in their resort to public worship, and
at their labor in the fields. The tomahawk and
scalping-knife were constantly busy. The mangled
carcasses and disjointed limbs of their victims were
suspended upon the trees, to terrify those who escaped.
Troops of savages hung upon the skirts of the towns
and villages, “like the lightning on the edge of the
clouds.” Brookfield and Deerfield were set on fire.
Hadley was suddenly attacked, while the people were
at meeting. In the midst of the consternation and
tumult, an unknown individual suddenly made his
appearance in the town, rallied the disheartened peo-
ple, cheered them on to battle, and the Indians were
defeated. The mysterious unknown then disappeared.
He is supposed to have been Goffe, the regicide, who
had been long concealed in that part of the country.
The attack on Lancaster is vividly described by
Mary Rowlandson, who was carried into captivity
by the Indians. Forty-two persons sought shelter
under her roof, and, after a furious assault, the house
was set on fire by the Indians. “Quickly,” says she,
“it was the dolefulest day that ever mine eyes saw.
Now the dreadful hour is come. Some in our house
were fighting for their lives; others wallowing in
blood; the house on fire over our heads, and the bloody
heathen ready to knock us on the head if we stirred out.
I took my children to go forth, but the Indians shot so
thick, that the bullets rattled against the house, as if
one had thrown a handful of stones. We had six
stout dogs, but none of them would stir. The bullets
flying thick, one went through my side, and through


PHILIP. 201
my poor child in my arms.” The house was taken,
and a horrible massacre followed. “There remained
nothing to me but one poor wounded babe. Down I
must sit in the snow, with my sick child, the picture
of death, in my lap. Not the least crumb of refresh-
ing came within either of our mouths from Wednes-
day night to Saturday night, except only a little cold
water. One Indian, and then a second, would come
and tell me, ‘Your master will quickly knock your
child on the head.” This was the comfort I had from
them. Miserable comforters were they all.”
Philip was not present at the attack on Lancaster.
The party that captured Mrs. Rowlandson joined him
on the west bank of the Connecticut. Her narrative,
at this point, contains some particulars, which showed
that Philip could treat his prisoners with humanity.
“We must go over the river to Philip's crew. When
I was in the canoe, I could not but be amazed at the
numerous crew of pagans that were on the bank on
the other side. There came one of them, and gave
me two spoonfuls of meal to comfort me, and another
gave me half a pint of peas, which was worth more
than many bushels at another time. Then I went to
see king Philip. He bade me come in and sit down,
and asked me whether I would smoke, a usual com-
pliment, now-a-days, among the saints and sinners;
but this noways suited me. During my abode in
this place, Philip spoke to me to make a shirt for his
boy, for which he gave me a shilling. Afterwards he
asked me to make a cap for his boy, for which he
invited me to dinner. I went, and he gave me a pan-
cake, about as big as two fingers; it was made of

202 Priºr.

parched wheat, beaten, and fried in bear's grease, but
I thought I never tasted pleasanter meat in my life.”
Philip, having ravaged the western frontier of Mas-
sachusetts, next proceeded to the country of the Nar-
ragansets, who had not yet heartily engaged in the war,
although it appears their coºperation had been expected
by him. The alliance of the Narragansets with Philip
was regarded by the colonists as a measure that called
for their most powerful efforts. An army of fifteen
hundred men was raised by the three colonies of
Massachusetts, Plymouth and Connecticut, and placed
under the command of Josiah Winslow. They took
the field in November, 1675, and directed their march
toward the Narraganset country, in the south-westerly
part of the present state of Rhode Island. Philip had
prepared for their approach, and fortified his army in
the strongest manner. He made choice of an island
in the centre of an immense swamp in South Kings-
ton, where he erected the largest and strongest fortifi-
cation ever constructed by the savages of New Eng-
land. Five hundred wigwams, of superior structure,
were surrounded by a high and thick palisade. A
hedge of fallen trees, a rod in thickness, encircled the
palisading. The wigwams were fortified with bas-
kets and tubs of corn, piled round them on the inside,
so as to render them bullet-proof. The whole fort
comprised an area of five acres, and was skirted by a
body of water, over which the trunk of a tree had
been laid for a bridge. The only assailable point
was defended by works which would have done no
discredit to a modern engineer; a block-house and
bastions flanked it on either side, and exposed the

Pll-º'- 203

assailants to a heavy cross-fire. In this strong-hold
three thousand Indians had taken up their residence,
with munitions of war and provisions for the whole
winter.
The season was very severe, and the march of the
English was so much retarded, that Philip had full
information of the expedition on foot against him.
Nearly a month elapsed before the different bodies of
troops, marching from separate points, formed a junc-
tion, about eighteen miles from Philip's headquarters.
The army was obliged to encamp in the open field,
under a December sky, without tents to cover them.
An intense cold prevailed; the air was filled with
snow; the provisions of the army were nearly ex-
hausted, and it was necessary to make the attack with-
out delay. No Englishman in the army was acquainted
with that part of the country, and, from the abundance
of snow on the ground, there seemed hardly a possi-
bility of discovering the strong-hold of the Indians.
By a fortunate accident, an Indian, named Peter, had
just been taken prisoner. This man, who had proba-
bly lived among the English some time previous, was
prevailed upon to guide the army to Philip. Follow-
ing his directions, they pushed forward, and, about
mid-day on the 19th of December, reached the swamp
where the fort stºod. The attack was instantly made.
The advanced body attempted to pass the narrow
bridge, but could only march two abreast, and were
swept off by the fire from the fort; others supplied
their places and were shot down. Six captains and
a large number of men were killed, and the Eng-
lish were on the point of being repulsed in this


204 PHILIP.
quarter, when another small party, under Captain
Mosely, had, by some means or other, passed all the
impediments, scaled the palisades, and got within the
fort, where they were contending hand to hand with
the Indians. A cry arose of “They runſ they run!”
The Indians were struck with panic; the English
gathered fresh courage, poured in greater numbers
upon the bridge, effected a passage, and assaulted the
main breastwork. The battle now raged with the ut-
most fury for three hours. The English forced their
way into the intrenchments, and drove the Indians
from wigwam to wigwam, with terrible slaughter;
men, women and children were shot and hewn down
indiscriminately, and lay in heaps upon the snow.
Such of them as escaped the swords and bullets of the
English, dispersed and hid themselves in the woods.
A third part of the whole Narraganset tribe are sup-
posed to have perished in this battle. The English
had eighty killed and a hundred and fiſty wounded.
They set fire to the wigwams and abandoned the
place, bºng obliged to march eighteen miles through
a snow-storm before their wounds could be dressed.
Nothing is said of the personal exploits of Philip
in this battle, and some have doubted whether he was
present on the occasion. It is certain that, immedi-
ately aſter, he fled towards Albany, and attempted to
raise the Mohawks against the English. These sav-
ages, however, could not be seduced by his intrigues,
but turned out against him, killed many of his ſol-
lowers, and drove him out of their country. His
affairs were now at a very low ebb. His allies, dis-
couraged by their repeated losses and defeats, ſell off,
PHILIP. 205

one after another. He was hunted from place to
place, and, in the summer of 1676, we find him, with
a small band of followers, again revisiting his old res-
idence at Pokanoket. In July he made an attack
upon Taunton, but was repulsed by Captain Church,
who took many prisoners. Philip fled to the woods
of Pocasset. He practised the most wily stratagems
to cut off his pursuers, but without success. On
Taunton river he was attacked by a party from
Bridgewater, and ten of his men were killed. He
narrowly escaped being made prisoner, but, by shav-
ing his hair and otherwise disguising himself, he
eluded the search of his pursuers.
The situation of Philip had now become desperate.
The indefatigable Captain Church followed hard
after him, and tracked him through every covert and
hiding-place. On the 1st of August, he came up with
him, and killed and took one hundred and thirty of his
men. Philip again had a narrow escape, and fled so
precipitately that he left all his wanpum behind.
His wife and son were captured. His cup of mis-
fortune now seemed to be full. “My heart breaks,”
said he, in the agony of his grief; “now I am ready to
die.” Yet he still maintained a desperate resistance,
and uttered no word of submission to his enemies. A
few days after, he again faced his pursuers. Both par-
ties laid ambushes, but neither succeeded in ensnaring
the other, and they came to an open fight. Philip was
defeated, and once more betook himself to the woods,
having lost nearly two hundred of his followers within
three days. One of those who remained, advised him
to make peace with the English; for which advice,

206 PHILLP.
Philip immediately put him to death. Such was the
stern and inflexible resolution of the savage chieftain.
This act of severity accomplished his ruin. The
brother of the man thus slain, fearing the same fate,
deserted, and gave Captain Church information of
Philip's hiding-place, offering to lead him to the spot.
On a little eminence, skirted by a miry swamp, at
the foot of Mount Hope, his old capital, Philip had
made his last stand, with a few faithful adherents.
They lay down to sleep, on the night of the 11th of
August, without any suspicions that their enemy was
at hand. Early the next morning they were aroused
by the discharge of the English musketry. Philip
was the first to fly. At the report of the first gun, he
started from his sleep, threw his gun and powder-horn
over his shoulder, and ran at full speed, being but
half dressed. But the English had surrounded the
swamp, and Philip was met by two of his enemies,
the one an Englishman, and the other an Indian,
named Alderman. They knew not who he was, but
allowed him to come within point-blank shot, and
then took aim at him. The morning being rainy,
the Englishman's gun missed fire, but Alderman's
went of Philip was shot through the heart, and
fell upon his face in the mud and water, with his gun
beneath him.
Philip had a mutilated hand, occasioned by the
bursting of a pistol. Being identified by this mark,
the whole company gave three loud huzzas. Captain
Church, in his exultation over the body of his fallen
enemy, exclaimed, “Forasmuch as he has caused
many an Englishman's body to lie unburied and rot


PHILLP. 207
above ground, not one of his bones shall be buried.”
Then, calling his old Indian executioner, he ordered
him to behead and quarter the body. This was done,
with a most scurrilous speech from the savage, which
the readers of the old histories will excuse us from
copying. Philip's head was sent to Plymouth, where
it was exposed upon a gibbet for twenty years. If
we condemn the barbarity of this act, we must also
bear in mind that the heads of the Scotch rebels were
exhibited upon Temple Bar, in London, nearly a cen-
tury later.
With Philip, perished five of his most trusty fol-
lowers, and among them the very Indian who fired the
first gun at the commencement of the contest. Phil-
ip's war was not only the most serious conflict which
New England ever sustained against the savages,
but the most fatal to the aborigines themselves. The
great tribe of the Narragansets, of old the leading
tribe of New England, was almost entirely extirpated;
hardly a hundred men remained. The last chief
capable of leading the Indians to battle had fallen.
Philip's son was transported to Bermuda and sold as
a slave. The war cost the colonies half a million of
dollars, and the lives of above six hundred men, the
flower of the population. Thirteen towns and six
hundred houses were burnt, and there was hardly a
family in the country that had not occasion to mourn
the death of a relative.
The character of the last sachem of the Pokano-
kets may be gathered from the preceding narrative.
He was a true Indian, and the deadly foe of the
whites; ever resolute, persevering and implacable in

208 PnLiº.
his enmity. Courage and cunning he possessed
in common with all his race; but perhaps his talents
for intrigue and the depth of his political schemes
have been exaggerated. The heroism which be-
longs to constant intrepidity and reckless daring,
he certainly possessed; and we cannot withhold a
certain degree of admiration from the man who fights
to the last in defence of his home, his race and his
independence, whatever barbarian vices may stain his
character. Whoever has visited Mount Hope, and
seen the lovely bay that spreads at its foot, may sym-
pathize with the savage patriot in his desperate efforts
to transmit it to his posterity.
It does not appear that Philip was personally win-
dictive. His enmity was national, not individual.
Considered as a savage, we have no right to call him
blood-thirsty or cruel. He had staked everything upon
the struggle, and that war was conducted on his part
according to the established system of Indian warfare.
In his general policy and his negotiations, he was in-
sincere and vacillating. He always opposed, in prac-
tice, the introduction of Christianity among his people,
though he amused the missionaries sometimes with
favorable words. Gookin says of him, “He is a per-
son of good understanding and knowledge in the best
things. I have heard him speak very good words,
arguing that his conscience is convinced.” But when
Mr. Ellioturged the importance of Christianity, he told
him he “cared no more for the Gospel, than he did for
a button upon his coat.” Such was Philip of Poka-
noket, to the last, consistent only in the virtues of a sav-
age, and his implacable animosity to the white men.
P 0 NTIAC
Was the chief of the Ottawas, a tribe which, during
the lifetime of this renowned leader, inhabited the
country in the neighborhood of Detroit. The Ot-
tawas were the oldest and most powerful tribe in
that region, and Pontiac exercised a sort of imperial
sway over his neighboring sovereigns. A travel-
ler, who visited that country about the year 1760,
mentions him in the following terms: “Pontiac is
their present king or emperor, who has certainly the
largest empire and greatest authority of any Indian
chief that has appeared on the continent since our
acquaintance with it. He puts on an air of majesty
and princely grandeur, and is greatly honored and
revered by his subjects.” During the wars between
the French and English, in North America, Pontiac
adhered constantly to the French interest, and the
histories of the time represent his enmity to the
former as so deep-seated and inveterate, that the con-
clusion of peace between the two nations could not
for some time mitigate his hostile temper. Cour-
ageous, enterprising, subtle and ambitious, he was
reluctant to abandon the depredations which he had
systematically carried on against his old enemies,
and his thoughts were devoted to a scheme for com-
bining all the tribes which were under his influence
into a grand league for the extirpation of the English.
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Pont-A-C- 211

an expedition was despatched by the British general,
under Major Rogers, against the French posts in the
Indian country. On reaching Pontiac's dominions,
Rogers was met by that chieftain, who, in an authori-
tative manner, demanded his business, and asked
how he dared to enter his territory without permission
from himself, the “king and lord of the country.”
Rogers informed him that he had no hostile design
against the Indians, but only wished to expel the
French, who were their common enemies, and the
cause of all their troubles. Pontiac replied with a
peremptory prohibition against his further advance,
couched in the following laconic style: “I stand in
the path you travelin, till to-morrow morning.” How-
ever, he condescended to interchange presents with
the British commander, and very civilly inquired
whether he was in want of supplies for his men.
The next day, a quantity of parched corn and other
provisions were furnished for their use, and paid for
by the British. Pontiac now assumed a more friend-
ly air, smoked the pipe of peace with his guest, and
assured him that he might pass through his country
unmolested, and displace the French garrisons.
Rogers had much conversation with him, and was
struck with the evidence of his sagacity, and his
desire for knowledge. He wished to be made ac-
quanted with the English mode of war, to know how
their arms and accoutrements were provided, and
how their clothing was manufactured. Rogers at-
tempted to persuade him to submit to the authority
of the king of England. Pontiac replied, that he
would not acknowledge him as his superior, though




212 Pontiac.
he was willing to call him uncle, and make him a
present of furs. He expressed a willingness to grant
favors to the English, and allow them to settle in his
country, but upon the express condition that they
should consider themselves under his authority; and
he assured them, in plain terms, that, in case they
acted in opposition to his will, he would “shut up the
way, and keep them out.” During the stay of Rog-
ers and his detachment in that quarter, they were
treated as friends by Pontiac and all the tribes under
his command. He even made a proposal to visit
England, which country he had a strong desire to
see; he offered Rogers a part of his territory, if he
would take him across the Atlantic.
There seems no reasonable doubt of the sincerity
of Pontiac's friendship toward the English at this
period. He accompanied the troops during a consid-
erable part of their route homeward, and was the
means of preserving them from the fury of a body of
Indians, who had collected near Detroit for the pur-
pose of cutting them off. What aroused his subse-
quent enmity against that nation, we have no positive
means of knowing; but within two or three years we
find him inspired with the most hostile temper toward
the English, and projecting a deep-laid and extensive
scheme for their destruction. Like Philip of Poka-
noket, he determined to try the effect of a combina-
tion among the various tribes within his reach. In
this enterprise, he displayed much sagacity, deep cal-
culation and foresight, and his attempts were for a
time crowned with such remarkable success, that he
became the terror of the frontier, and the name of
Pont-Lac. 213

Pontiac attained a high degree of celebrity, not only
throughout North America, but even in Europe.
By his efforts, a band of confederate nations,
consisting of the Hurons, Miamis, Chippeways, Otta-
was, Polowatamies, Missisauges and others, was
organized for united action against the enemy, in
1763. Instead of openly attacking the English settle-
ments, Pontiac formed a plan for capturing, by strata-
gem, such of their forts and outposts as they had
lately acquired by the treaty with France. One of
the most important of these was Michilimackinac, a
fortress situated upon an island in the strait between
lakes Michigan and Huron, and which, down to the
present day, has always been considered a military
station of the highest consequence. At this period
of our history the fortress was surrounded by a
strong stockade, and defended by a garrison of about
a hundred men. It contained also about three hun-
dred French inhabitants. Pontiac aimed his first
blow at this place; and the artifice and cunning which
were exhibited on the occasion, were such as to enti-
tle the capture of Michilimackinac to a conspicuous
rank in the history of military stratagems. There
was a game played by the Indians, called baggativay,
which is practised with a bat and ball. Two posts
are set in the ground, a mile or farther apart. Two
parties take possession of the posts, and each enden-
vors to throw the ball up to the post of the adversary.
In this endeavor, the ball is tossed in all directions,
and the game is attended by all the shouting and tur-
bulence natural to rude athletic sport. The whole
stratagem being well matured, a large body of Indians

214 PONTI-.
resorted to Michilimackinac, under the pretence of
trade or curiosity. No indications had yet appeared
of a hostile disposition on their part, and the garrison
were entirely unsuspicious of a plot, although Major
Etherington, the commander, was advised to be upon
his guard, by a person who had heard a rumor of
some treacherous design then in meditation against
the English.
On the 4th of June, 1763, the birth-day of the king
of England, above four hundred Indians had collected
round the ſort, and began the game of baggativay.
The English officers went to look on, for their amuse-
ment. In the height of the game, as had been pre-
viously agreed, the Indians struck the ball over
the stockade, as if by accident. A few of them
rushed in to recover it. This was repeated a second
and a third time, to lull suspicion, the Indians run-
ning in and out in tumultuous laughter, and, to ap-
pearance, entirely absorbed in their sport. Having,
in this manner, put the sentry at the south gate com-
pletely of his guard, and collected a large crowd at
that spot, they made a sudden rush, poured in at the
gate, and took possession of the fort before the garri-
son could make a movement for its defence. Seventy
of the soldiers were put to death; and the Indians,
apprehending no danger from the resistance of the
remainder, spared their lives. Many of them were
afterwards ransomed at Montreal, at high prices.
The Indians also made prisoners of another party of
English, who arrived in a boat a few days afterward,
and ignorant of the capture of the place.
Pontiac was not present at the taking of Michili-

PONTI-. 215
mackinac, but the scheme was of his planning. The
leader of the band was a chief, named Menehwehna.
Pontiac, seeing his first blow at Michilimackinac
crowned with success, immediately took the field,
and opened the campaign on a large scale. In about
a fortnight, he had taken possession of every fortin
the west, except three. Thus, eleven of the English
strong posts, extending from Presque Isle, on Lake
Erie, to Michilimackinac, remained in his hands.
These rapid successes entitled him to the name of
the Napoleon of the Indians. The financial policy
of this sagacious leader appears evidently to have
been borrowed from the Europeans, and we may
admire the ingenuity of the unlettered savage, who
issued bills of credit with all the regularity and sys-
tem of a British exchequer. Pontiac appointed a
commissary, and raised funds to carry on the war, by
pledging his royal credit. His bills were drawn on
birch bark, and bore the figure of an otter, which
was his coat of arms; under this was drawn the
representation of the particular article for which the
bill was valid, as a gun, a bag of corn, a deer, &c.
These bills passed current among the Indians, and
were faithfully redeemed after the war. The “Pon-
tiac treasury notes," we believe, were never below
par. Repudiation was unknown under savage rule
in Michigan. Let the barbarian chief enjoy the full
applause due to his financial honor. His modern
successors might find something in his example wor-
thy of imitation.
The only strong place in the west, remaining in the
hands of the English, was Detroit, then defended by


216 Pont-L-C.
about three hundred men, under Major Gladwyn.
Pontiac, by a rapid march, appeared before the place,
while the garrison were yet ignorant of the fall of
Michilimackinac and the subsequent hostilities. The
warriors of Pontiac's party were very numerous, but
they were so intermixed with their women and chil-
dren, and carried so many commodities for trade,
that no suspicion was excited. Pontiac encamped
his multitude at a short distance from the fort, and
sent a message to the commander, informing him
that he had come to traffic, and, as a preliminary, he
wished to hold a parley with him, to “brighten the
chain of peace” between the English and his people.
Major Gladwyn consented, and the following day was
appointed for the conference. Detroit was now on the
point of falling a prey to the same treachery which
had surprised Michilimackinac, and a more bloody and
horrible massacre would have ensued; but while the
crafty and dissembling savage deemed his foe already
in his power, an unforeseen and trivial incident for-
tunately caused the miscarriage of his plot, and De-
troit was saved.
On the evening of that day, an Indian squaw, who
had been employed by the major to make him a pair
of Indian moccasins out of a curious piece of elk-skin,
brought them to his quarters. The commander was
so highly pleased with the workmanship, that he
resolved on making a present of the moccasins to a
friend, and directed her to take the remainder of the
hide back, and execute another pair for himself. Or-
dering his servant to pay her for her work, he then
dismissed her. The woman went to the door, but
Pontiac. 217
did not depart; and when the patrol guard took
their rounds to see that the fort was clear of stran-
gers, she was found loitering in the area, and could
give no satisfactory account of her business there.
On being carried into the presence of the commander,
he demanded why she did not depart before the gates
were shut. She told him, after much hesitation, that,
as he had always behaved with great goodness toward
her, she was unwilling to take away the remainder
of the skin, upon which he set so high a value.
Being unable to comprehend this explanation, the
major pressed her further, and, with still more reluc-
tance, she replied, that if she took the skin away
again, she should never be able to return it.
The commander now suspected that she was in the
possession of some secret which she feared to divulge,
and insisted on knowing the whole matter, promising
her that the disclosure should not cause her any
harm, but that, if it appeared important to the Eng-
lish, she should be rewarded for her service. Under
this encouragement, she informed him that the In-
dians were engaged in a plot to surprise the place,
massacre the garrison and inhabitants, and plum-
der the town. This was to be done in the following
manner. All the Indians, who were to attend the
council in the fort the following day, had cut their
guns short, so that they could be concealed under
their blankets. Pontiac, while delivering his speech
to the commander, was to give a signal, by extending
his belt of wampum in a particular manner, on which
the Indians were to spring up, draw their guns,
and fire on the major and his attendants. Having

21S PONTI-.
despatched them, they were immediately to rush into
the town, where they would find themselves support-
ed by a great number of their warriors, who were to
passin, during the sitting of the council, under pre-
tence of trading, but privately armed in the manner
described.
Having gathered these and further particulars of
the stratagem from the woman, the commander sent
her off, and took immediate measures for defence.
He walked round the fort the whole night, to see that
every sentinel was on duty, and the utmost vigilance
observed. As he traversed the ramparts on the side
of the Indian camp, he heard them in boisterous mer-
riment, all unconscious of the discovery of their plot,
and indulging in festive anticipation of their bloody
triumph on the morrow. With the dawn of day the
troops were mustered, and every man received his
instructions. Word was sent to all the traders in the
town that it was expected a great number of Indians
would enter the place that day, who might be inclined
to plunder, and the commander advised them to have
their arms ready to repel any such attempts. About
the middle of the forenoon, Pontiac and his chiefs
arrived, and were conducted to the council-room,
where the major and his principal officers, with pis-
tols in their belts, awaited their arrival. When the
number of Indians agreed upon had entered, the gates
were closed. As the Indians passed along, they did
not fail to observe that a greater number of troops
than usual were drawn up on the parade, and march-
ing about in different quarters. After taking their
seats on the skins prepared for them, Pontiac asked

PONTI-. 219

the reason of all this extraordinary display, and re-
marked that it was an odd way of holding a council.
He was told the men were only exercising.
Pontiac, now having his suspicions lulled, began
his speech, which abounded in the strongest expres-
sions of good will toward the English. The moment
for giving the signal approached. Pontiac drew his
wampum belt, but, on the instant when his attendants
made the first movements to grasp their muskets, all
the English officers drew their swords half out of
the scabbards, and the men made a loud clashing
with their guns. Pontiac, though one of the boldest
of men, immediately turned pale and trembled, and,
instead of making the concerted signal with the belt,
delivered it in the usual way. His chiefs, who had
impatiently expected the command to fall upon their
enemies, looked at each other with astonishment, but
continued quiet, waiting the result of this unexpected
turn of affairs.
The British commander, having heard him to the
conclusion, addressed Pontiac in reply. Instead of
thanking the great warrior for his protestations of
friendship, he put on a frowning look, and boldly
pronounced him a traitor. He assured him that the
English knew everything, and were fully acquainted
with his villanous designs. In proof that they were
acquainted with his most secret thoughts, he stepped
toward the nearest Indian, and, drawing aside his
blanket, exposed his shortened firelock. The sav-
ages, seeing their perfidy exposed, were struck dumb
with confusion. The commander then proceeded to
tell them that, as he had given his word, when they



220 Pont-LA-
desired an audience, that their persons should be safe,
he should hold his promise inviolable, though they
had no right, in consequence of their treachery, to
claim such an indulgence. He advised them, however,
to make the best of their way out of the fort, lest his
young men, in indignation at their perfidious design,
should cut them all in pieces. Pontiac had the hardi-
hood to deny the charge of treachery, but the major
would not listen to him, and immediately turned him
and his men out of the fort.
Being foiled in his stratagem, the vindictive chief-
tain threw of the mask, and attacked the fort openly
the next day. The Indians pressed the assault with
great fury, and practised a variety of expedients to
capture or destroy it. At one time they filled a cart
with combustibles and forced it against the pickets to
set them on fire. At another time they attempted to
set fire to the church by shooting fiery arrows against
it, but were dissuaded by a French priest, who told
Pontiac that it would call down the anger of God
upon him. On several occasions, they succeeded in
making a breach in the defences by cutting through
the stockade, but these attempts were at last counter-
acted by the garrison, who hewed away the timbers
on the inside, and when the Indians rushed into the
breach, discharged a cannon planted for the purpose,
which made so terrible a slaughter that the enemy
were effectually repulsed. The Indians, at length,
despaired of mastering the fort by assault, and turned
the siege into a blockade.
There was no other British post in the neighbor-
hood to afford relief to Detroit, and the garrison were
Pont-Lac- 221
reduced to great distress for want of provisions. Forts
Pitt and Niagara were also besieged, and all commu-
nication between the different stations was for a long
time interrupted. The siege of Detroit lasted for
nearly a year. On the 29th of July, a reinforcement,
under Captain Dalyell, reached the place. A few
days after, this officer, with a body of about two hun-
dred and fifty men, made a sortie, with the design to
surprise the camp of Pontiac; but that vigilant and
crafty chieftain was apprized of his movements by his
spies, and laid an ambush for the English, behind a
picket fence, near a bridge. Just as the detachment
had passed the bridge, the Indians discovered them-
selves and poured in so prompt and destructive a fire,
that great numbers were levelled to the earth, and
the whole body thrown into confusion. The Indians
were vastly superior in numbers, and the English
made a hasty retreat. They succeeded in making
their way back to the fort, with the loss of their com-
mander and about fifty men. The bridge where the
battle was fought, retains, to this day, the name of
Bloody Bridge. Nearly a hundred dead bodies were
counted on the bridge the next morning, which
entirely blocked up its passage. The savage chief
ordered Captain Dalyell's head to be cut off, and set
upon a post.
During the siege, Pontiac captured several vessels
which attempted to relieve the garrison, and treated
the crews with much cruelty. One day a schooner
arrived near the fort, loaded with provisions; but
finding the shores lined with enemies, she tacked
about and made sail down the strait. The Indians


222 PONTI-.
pursued her in their canoes, and kept up so heavy a
fire that they killed almost every man of her crew. At
length they boarded her in great numbers, and the
master, being determined not to fall alive into the
hands of the savages, ordered the gunner to set fire to
the magazine that they might all be blown up together.
A Huron chief of the assailing party happened to un-
derstand English enough to comprehend this order,
and immediately gave the alarm to the rest, on which
they all rushed into their canoes and paddled off with
the greatest precipitation. The crew, taking advan-
tage of a brisk flaw of wind, which fortunately sprung
up at this moment, crowded sail and ran under the
guns of the fort, where the cargo was landed in safety,
and Detroit was saved from famine.
The siege nevertheless continued, and the obstinate
perseverance of the savage leader still cheered on his
followers in their endeavors to reduce the place. But
“Pontiac's war” had now fixed the serious attention
of the British government, and preparations were
made on a large scale for an offensive campaign
against the savages. An army of three thousand
men, under General Bradstreet, took the field and
marched upon Detroit. Pontiac was too well aware
of the superiority of the English arms, to indulge a
hope of resisting, with success, so great a force as
this. He immediately made overtures for an accom-
modation, without waiting for the arrival of Brad-
street's army. Gladwyn listened to his proposals,
and a treaty was concluded on favorable terms to the
English. The Indians abandoned Detroit and retired
to their hunting grounds. Pontiac's war was thus
I-N-T-C- 223
brought to a close, and the tranquillity of that region
remained undisturbed by savage hostilities for along
time afterwards.
From this period, Pontiac appeared entirely to
have laid aside his animosity toward the English,
and to have become their sincere and zealous friend.
The government, to reward him for his new attach-
ment, and insure a continuance of his fidelity, al-
lowed him a valuable pension. Of the remainder
of his life we find no very circumstantial relation, but
we are told that his restless and intriguing spirit
would not allow him to continue faithful to his new
allies, even with the strong inducement of a yearly
stipend, and that he fell under strong suspicions of
treacherous dealing. In 1767, he was sent as an agent,
by the British, to attend a council of the Illinois tribes.
A faithful Indian accompanied him as a spy. Pontiac
delivered a speech in the council, which discovered
so much lurking hostility to the British, and was
altogether of so insidious a purport, that his attendant,
in a fit of passionate indignation, drew his knife as
soon as he had done speaking, and stabbed him to the
heart.
Pontiac was one of the most remarkable of his race
for resolute courage, deep sagacity, fertile invention,
and the main components of the character of a great
savage warrior. He had compass of mind, judgment
and forethought, equal to the conception and formation
of mighty projects; but his temper appears to have been
capricious, and he was not distinguished for inflexible
firmness of purpose. We possess the history of the
man, however, in too imperfect a shape, to allow us


224 Pont-Lac-
to scrutinize his policy with a very satisfactory result.
His military talents were superior to those of Philip.
Like him, he probably, at one time, brooded over a
grand scheme for the total extirpation of the whites;
but his superior penetration, doubtless enabled him to
perceive, before the close of his career, the hopelessness
of such a project. At one period, he urged strongly
upon his people the necessity of dispensing altogether
with European commodities. He advised them to
have no intercourse with the whites, and to return
altogether to their ancient modes of life.
An anecdote, illustrating the fearless confidence of
Pontiac, reminds us of a similar one of Alexander of
Macedon. A messenger had been sent to him, by
Major Rogers, who carried him a present of brandy.
The attendants of the chief were suspicious of a
stratagem to poison him, and entreated him not to drink
it. Pontiac was determined that the English should
see that he could conduct himself without timidity
or distrust, and boldly replied: “It is not possible that
this man, who knows my love for him, and who is
also sensible of the great favors I have done him, can
think of taking away my life;” then, putting the cup
to his lips, he drank a draught without betraying the
slightest apprehension. Such are the contradictions
of the Indian character. This great warrior could
practise treachery himself, yet scorn to suspect it in
others!
-º-

L 0 GA. N.
This unfortunate chief, better known to the world
by the eloquent and pathetic speech which he has left
as a record of his misfortunes and sorrows, than by his
exploits in war, was of the Mingo or Cayuga tribe.
His father, Shikellimus, was a personal friend of the
benevolent James Logan, the friend of William Penn,
and the founder of the Loganian Library, at Phila-
delphia. The name of the son was probably derived
from this person. During the war with the French,
when the Indian confederates, under the guidance of
Pontiac, threatened the northwestern settlements with
extermination, Logan refused to take up arms against
the whites,“to whom he was attached by the most
friendly feelings, and exerted himself as a peace-maker.
He became known, throughout all the neighboring
tribes, as the white man's friend, and continued on
terms of the most perfect amity with all the western
settlers till the year 1774, when his friendship was
requited with a series of acts of such barbarous and
wanton cruelty, as rendered him at once a most win-
dictive and implacable enemy to the whole civilized
race. Few portions of the history of the red men
afford events more tragical and affecting than the ſate
of the unhappy Logan.
In the month of April, 1774, while the Indian tribes
on the northern frontier of Virginia were in a state
of profound peace with their white neighbors, a rumor
-



226 LoGAN.
was circulated in that quarter that the savages had
stolen the horses of some land-jobbers on the Ohio
and Kenhawa. This report, although unsupported by
any good evidence, seems to have created a general
belief or suspicion that the Indians meditated hostili-
ties against the settlements. In consequence of this
impression, the land-jobbers collected in a body at
Wheeling, where, in a few days, they received intelli-
gence that a canoe with a few Indians was coming
down the Ohio. A man, called Captain Michael
Cresap, who seems to have acted as commander of
the party, proposed to ascend the river and kill the
Indians. There were at that time not the slightest
indications of hostility on the part of the savages, ex-
cept what could be gathered from the report above
mentioned. Colonel Zane, one of the settlers, strongly
objected to the proposal, representing to Cresap, very
justly, that such an act, besides being an atrocious
murder, which would disgrace forever all concerned
in it, must inevitably bring on a war, in which torrents
of innocent blood would be shed. Unfortunately, this
reasonable and humane counsel did not prevail. Cre-
sap, with a detachment of the party, went up the river.
On their return they were asked what had become
of the Indians. They coolly replied that they had
fallen overboard. On examining their canoe, it was
found bloody and pierced with bullets. The fate of
the unoffending natives was but too evident. This
was the first blood shed in a war which brought the
most terrible vengeance on the heads of the aggres-
-----
Having thus got a taste of blood, Cresap indulged
Loca-N- 227

his appetite for slaughter without scruple or restraint.
The same evening, hearing of an encampment of
Indians in the neighborhood below, he proceeded
down the river, fell upon them while they were totally
unsuspicious of any hostile design, and killed a num-
ber of them. In neither of these cases did the whites
pretend any provocation for their murders. Cresap's
atrocities were soon imitated by another blood-thirsty
wretch named Daniel Greathouse. He collected a
company of thirty-two men, and proceeded to the
mouth of Yellow Creek, opposite which a large num-
ber of Indians had encamped. Greathouse concealed
his men in an ambuscade, and crossed the river to
learn the number of the savages. He went round
among them, estimated their strength, and found that
they were too numerous to be openly attacked. It hap-
pened that the Indians had heard of the murders
committed by Cresap, and began to talk of revenge.
Greathouse knew nothing of º danger till one of the
squaws came to him and advised him to go home, for
the Indians were drinking, and, being angry on account
of the murder of their people down the river, they
might do him a mischief.
He accordingly made the best of his way back, and
consulted with his party how to ensnare the Indians
by a stratagem, as an open assault was too hazardous.
It was determined to invite a portion of them across
the river, and get them intoxicated, by which means
their whole body might be massacred, piecemeal.
This was accordingly done; a number of the Indians,
male and female, accepted the invitation of the whites
to drink rum, crossed the river, and after being well




228 Lºc-N.
plied with liquor, were all barbarously murdered in
cold blood, with the exception of one little girl. The
Indians in the camp heard the firing, and, as was
expected, sent off two canoes with armed warriors.
The whites lay in ambush on the bank of the river,
and received them with a deadly fire, which killed
the greater part, and forced the survivors to return.
A great number of shots were exchanged across the
stream, but none of the whites were killed or even
wounded. Their conduct throughout this bloody
affair was atrocious and brutal. They scalped their
victims, one of whom was the very female who had
given Greathouse the friendly caution when he visited
the camp. -
The whole of the family of Logan perished in these
wanton massacres; in the last, were his brother and
sister, the latter in a delicate situation, which aggra-
wated the enormity of the crime, and augments our
sympathy for the fate of the unfortunate victim. It
will excite the wonder of no man, that Logan from
this moment breathed nothing but vengeance against
the treacherous and inhuman whites. A general
Indian war immediately followed. Logan was the
foremost in leading his countrymen to the slaughter
of their perfidious enemies. On the 12th of July,
with a party of only eight warriors, he attacked a
settlement on the Muskingum, captured two prisoners
and carried them off. When they arrived at an In-
dian town, they delivered them to the inhabitants, who
instantly prepared to put them to death in torture.
Logan, however, in the heat of his vindictive feelings,
displayed the humanity of his nature. He cut the
Locan. 229
cords of one of the prisoners who was about to be
burnt at the stake, and saved his life. This man
was afterward adopted into an Indian family, and
became Logan's scribe.
A chief, named Cornstalk, was the leader of the
Indians in this war. Large bodies of warriors were
collected, and they abandoned the usual mode of sav-
age warfare, and, instead of making petty incursions
upon the settlements, they resolved to meet the whites
in the open field, with a strong army, and give them
battle in their own way. This new scheme of mili-
tary tactics, however, they had not the skill to follow
up with success, and the contest was brought to a close
much more speedily than would have been the case,
had the savages pursued their old method of hos-
tilities. The whites, everywhere along the frontier,
abandoned their settlements, and either fled from the
scene of warfare, or took shelter in the forts. Gov-
ernor Dunmore, of Virginia, ordered out the militia,
and an army of three thousand men was equipped for
the campaign. One half this force, under the com-
mand of Colonel Lewis, marched toward the mouth
of the Great Kanhawa, and the other division, under
Dunmore, proceeded toward the Indian towns on the
Ohio, with the design of destroying them in the
absence of the warriors, who were drawn off by the
approach of Lewis's army.
At Point Pleasant, on the Great Kamhawa, a san-
guinary battle was fought on the 10th of October,
1774, between Lewis's army and the combined forces
of the Shawanese, Mingoes, and Delawares. The
two armies were about equal in numbers. The


230 Loca-
action commenced a little after sunrise, by a furious
attack from the Indians, who drove in the advanced
body of three hundred Virginians, with great slaugh-
ter. The main body coming up, the fight was re-
newed, and continued with the utmost obstimacy
through the day. The Indians, with great military
skill and calculation, had completely invested their
opponents, who were hemmed in upon a point of land
at the junction of the Kanhawa and Ohio rivers, hav-
ing the Indian line of battle in their front, and no
possibility of a retreat in any direction. Cornstalk
commanded the savage forces, and this tawny son of
the forest distinguished himself in all his manoeuvres
throughout the engagement, by the skill as well as
the bravery of a consummate general. During the
whole of the day, his stentorian voice was heard
throughout the ranks of his enemies, vociferating,
“Be strong! be strong!" After an incessant fire
for twelve hours, darkness put an end to the conflict.
The Virginians lost one hundred and forty killed and
wounded; the loss of the Indians was about the same.
The Indians retreated the next day, and shortly
afterward made proposals for peace. Logan, who had
fought with great braverythroughout the war, refused
to be a suppliant on the occasion. Cornstalk, with
eight other chiefs, visited the camp of Lord Dunmore,
to open negotiations, but Logan remained at his cabin
in sullen seclusion, refusing to meet the whites. He
was too distinguished a personage to be neglected in
this important matter, and a messenger was sent to
him to inquire whether the proposals for peace met
his approbation. Under these circumstances he

Loc-N. 231

delivered the celebrated speech to which he owes his
reputation. According to the best authenticated
accounts, after shedding an abundance of tears for
the loss of his friends, he addressed the messenger in
the following language:
“I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he
entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not
meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed
him not. During the course of the last long and
bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an
advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites,
that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said,
“Logan is the friend of white man.' I had even
thought to have lived with you but for the injuries of
one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold
blood and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of
Logan, not even sparing my women and children.
There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of
any living creature. This called on me for revenge.
I have sought it; I have killed many; I have fully
glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at
the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought
that this is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear.
He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who
is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!”
Every reader has been touched with the simple
eloquence and pathos of this famous speech. Mr.
Jefferson has indulged in no exaggeration in assert-
ing, that neither Greek, Roman, nor modern oratory
has any passage that surpasses it. Logan's affecting
appeal to the white men will be longer remembered
than any other existing specimen of Indian rhetoric.

232 Loca-
| We are acquainted with few more particulars of
the history of this unfortunate chief. It is mournful
to state, that his great qualities became obscured, late
in life, by indulgence in that vice which has been the
most fatal scourge of his race—intemperance. He
fell by assassination on a journey homeward from
Detroit.

B R A NT.
This famous warrior bore the name of Thayan-
daneca among his countrymen. The word signifies
a brant, and it is by this name only that he was
known to the whites during his life-time. He was an
Onondaga, of the Mohawk tribe, and, at a very early
age, left the savages for the society of the English.
Many accounts represent him as a half-breed Indian,
the son of a German; but this notion appears to be
incorrect. His complexion was somewhat lighter
than was common among his tribe. He was born
about the year 1742. Sir William Johnson, the com-
mander-in-chief of the British forces in North Amer-
ica, took him under his care while a youth, and the
belief was entertained, by some people, that he was
his son. Johnson determined to give him a good
English education, and accordingly, in July, 1761,
placed him at Moor's charity school, at Lebanon, in
Connecticut. Johnson was a great friend and patron
of the Indians. The anecdote of his “dreaming con-
test” with one of the chiefs, in which the savage
complained that Sir William “dreamed hard,” is well
known. His residence was on the Mohawk, about
forty miles above Albany, where he built him an ele-
gant house, and entertained the red men of the Six
Nations with great hospitality. A sister of Brant,
named Molly, was his domestic companion, and he

-------


--N-T- 235
remained on friendly terms with the Indians till his
death, in 1774.
Joseph Brant, as our hero was called, appears to
have made good proficiency in his studies, and adopt-
ed successfully the manners of the English. In 1775,
he visited England, where he attracted much notice.
Either during this visit, or shortly after, he received
the commission of colonel in the regular army. The
revolutionary war was now at hand, and the British
government seem, at the very outset, to have made
calculations on engaging the savage tribes as auxilia-
ries in the contest. At the beginning of the troubles
Brant was employed as a secretary by Guy Johnson,
son-in-law of Sir William, who embraced the royal
party, and bore a military command. Johnson was
compelled to leave the country, and Brant fled with
him into Canada. How long he remained there, is
not stated. At the invasion of Burgoyne, in 1777,
Brant was employed, by that general, to engage the
Six Nations in hostilities against the Americans, and
proceeded to the frontier to execute this design. A
body of New York militia, under General Herkimer,
went in pursuit of him, and found him at Unadilla,
with a band of one hundred and thirty warriors.
This was in July, 1777, when the capture of Ticon-
deroga, and the victorious march of Burgoyne toward
the Hudson, had spread consternation throughout the
country. Herkimer held a conference with Brant,
hoping to dissuade him from hostilities. But the
savage chief would not talk of peace; he protested
his inflexible loyalty to the British;-declaring that
the Indians would adhere to the cause of the king, as

236 ºn ant-
their fathers and grandſathers had done;—that “the
king's belts" were yet lodged with them; and they
could not be false to their pledge. He reproached
Herkimer for having joined the “Boston people.”
against the king, and told him that the Boston people
were resolute, but the king would humble them. He
then addressed his warriors, who uttered a loud
shout, ran to their encampment, seized their arms,
fired several guns, set up the war-whoop, and ranged
themselves as for battle. The militia were much
superior in number, but avoided committing hostill-
ties. Their commander appears to have still enter-
tained hopes of a pacification. But a sudden tem-
pest came on and broke up the meeting. The two
parties separated without fighting, and an opportunity
was thus lost of checking the hostile temper of the
savages in the outset. This proved a most unfortu-
nate occurrence for the Americans.
The savage war had now commenced. The toma-
hawk and scalping-knife were combined with British
bayonets for the devastation of the frontier. Bur-
goyne, in his advance toward the Hudson, had de-
tached General St. Leger, against Fort Stanwix, on
the Mohawk. Brant, with his Indians, formed a part
of this force. Colonel Gansevoort, the commander
of the fort, rejected every summons to surrender,
and declared his determination to defend it to the
last extremity. But the fortifications were weak,
and the danger of Fort Stanwix was speedily known
throughout the neighborhood. A body of militia was
raised in the valley of the Mohawk, for the relief of
the place. General Herkimer took the command,

ºn ANT. - 227
and, early in August, began his march for the place.
St. Leger, hearing of his approach, despatched a
strong force of British and Indians to meet them.
Brant, knowing from experience that the militia
would advance without much order or precaution,
planned an ambush, which the misconduct of the
Americans and their commander enabled them to
carry into effect with such success as to cause them a
severe loss. He placed his warriors in a ravine at
Oriskana, where the militia were obliged to pass over
a narrow “corduroy road.” Herkimer approached
this spot in the forenoon of the 6th of August, with-
out the precaution of sending scouts ahead to see that
the pass was clear. His first intimation of the vicin-
ity of an enemy, was a terrific Indian yell, followed
immediately by so heavy and well-aimed a discharge
of rifles, as brought nearly every man of his advanced
body to the ground. The Indians then rushed down
from the heights which overlooked the ravine, and
fell with their tomahawks upon the second regiment,
advancing upon the causeway. This body was sev-
ered from the rear division, and maintained so des-
perate a fight with their assailants, that the savages
at length began to give way; but, at the moment
when the Americans were on the point of routing
their enemies, a reinforcement of tories came up.
These were a body of men who had left that neigh-
borhood at the commencement of the war, and were
the objects of deadly hatred to the patriots. The
sight of these men greatly increased the exasperation
and fury of the militia, and the battle raged with ten-
ſold heat. A most extraordinary conflict was now

238 ERANT.
witnessed. Hemmed in between the steep heights, the
tories and militia were broken into groups of twenty or
thirty each, in such a manner that they could not fire;
they fought hand to hand, or closed in deadly strife,
drawing their knives and stabbing each other. The
Indians, witnessing this strange confusion, and the
severe loss they sustained in the struggle, began to
suspect that both parties of the whites had combined
to destroy them; and, at length, several of their
chiefs exclaimed that it was a plot of the white peo-
ple to draw them into a snare and cut them off; upon
which, orders were given to the Indians to kill all
whites without distinction. These orders were in-
stantly obeyed; the arms of their savage allies were
turned against the British themselves, who, by this
most remarkable caprice of fortune, suffered more
from their friends than they did from their enemies.
A number of Herkimer's men saved themselves by
flight, but about a hundred were so surrounded by
the enemy that escape was impossible. Yet they
bravely maintained the contest, and, posting them-
selves in Indian fashion behind logs and trees, kept
the foe at bay, till the British commander, fearing a
part of the garrison of Fort Stanwix might sally out
and attack his rear, drew off his men and abandoned
the field.
Brant lost a hundred of his Indians in this battle;
and about the same number of the tories were killed.
The militia suffered a loss of one hundred and sixty
killed. General Herkimer was mortally wounded,
and his horse was shot under him. He ordered his
saddle to be placed upon a little knoll, and, seating

BRANT. 239
himself upon it, continued to give his orders. He
was entreated to withdraw to a place of safety, but he
replied, “No-1 will face the enemy;" and while the
battle was raging in all its fury, he deliberately drew
his tinder-box from his pocket, lighted his pipe, and
smoked it with the greatest composure.
A body of two hundred and fifty men of the garri-
son were in the mean time advancing to the relief of
Herkimer's party. They fell upon the Indians and
tories, put them to rout, captured their provisions and
baggage, with five standards, and returned in safety.
Herkimer's disaster produced no disheartening effects
upon the garrison. They repulsed every attack, and
refused to listen to any mention of a surrender, al-
though they had no longer any hope of being relieved.
As it was of the utmost importance to reduce this
place, in order to leave no military post in the hands
of the Americans, which might threaten the right
flank of Burgoyne's army in its approach, St. Leger
tried the arts of intimidation. On the 8th of August,
he sent a flag to the fort with another summons, in
which he exaggerated his own strength, and repre-
sented that Burgoyne had entered Albany in tri-
umph, after laying the whole country waste in his
victorious march. He further stated, that Brant and
his Indians were determined, if they met with fur-
ther resistance, to massacre every soul on the Mo-
hawk river; and, in case they were obliged to wait
any longer for the surrender of Fort Stanwix, every
man of the garrison would be tomahawked.
Gansevoort, maintaining his inflexible resolution,
was not moved in the slightest degree by these men-


210 Enant.
aces, but determined to make a new attempt to raise the
neighborhood for his relief. Two of his officers un-
dertook the desperate task of passing through the
besiegers' lines, and conveying intelligence to the
inhabitants of the surrounding district, of the state of
the fort and the necessity of relieving it. In the dead
of the night they stole over the parapets, and crept
on all-fours through the grass and bushes for half a
mile, to the stream of the Mohawk, which they crossed
by swimming. Here they were obliged to traverse
the path leading from the Indian camp, on which the
enemy were continually going backward and forward,
and for a long time they had the shouts and yells of
the savages sounding in their ears on the right and
left. Travelling fifty miles farther, with no other
food than blackberries, they reached the German
Flats, from which place an express was sent to Gen-
eral Schuyler, at Stillwater.
Measures were instantly taken to relieve the fort.
General Arnold offered to conduct the expedition, and
a brigade was detached for this purpose. An oppor-
tunity presented itself for directing a stratagem against
the enemy. A spy of the tories, named Cuyler, had
been lately captured by the Americans. He was
carried before Arnold, who promised him his life and
the restitution of his estate, on condition of his per-
forming the following service. He was to rejoin the
besiegers of Fort Stanwix, and alarm them with ac-
counts that the Americans were marching in great
force against them; which representation he was to
substantiate by such arts as he could devise for the
occasion. Cuyler, who understood the Indian lan-
LRANT. 241
guage well, agreed to the proposal. He engaged
some friendly Indians in the scheme, and managed
all the contrivances with a degree of cool cunning
that would have done credit to a genuine Yankee.
He shot several bullets through his coat, and then,
proceeding to the Indian camp, told the savages that
General Arnold, with an army of three thousand men,
was rapidly advancing upon them; that Colonel But-
ler, the commander of the tories, was captured, and
that he himself had narrowly escaped with his life,
in proof of which he exhibited the shot-holes in his
coat. While the camp was in a great alarm at this
news, the friendly Indians, as had been agreed upon,
dropped in one by one and corroborated the story.
A complete panic now took possession of the savages,
and they resolved to decamp immediately. St. Leger
used every art to induce them to stay, but not even
the tempting offer of strong liquor could conquer their
fears. They only replied: “You mean to sacrifice
us. When we marched down, you told us there
would be no fighting for us Indians, and that we
should have nothing to do but to smoke our pipes.
But you see how the whites have killed our warriors.”
Saying this, they immediately marched off.
St. Leger's force was much superior to that which
Arnold was leading against him, yet his men were so
discouraged by the defection of the Indians and the
exaggerated reports of the strength of the Americans,
that he was forced immediately to raise the siege.
About noon, on the 22d of August, he broke up his
camp, and retreated with precipitation, leaving his
tents, artillery and stores. The garrison sallied out
-



242 I-RANT.
and took possession of the whole; they found the
British bombardier, fast asleep by the side of a mortar.
The Indianswere highly exasperated against St. Leger
for what they considered his treacherous dealing in
leading them into trouble. They took their revenge
by practising the following horse-play upon the Brit-
ish commander. Towards night, the retreating army
came to a piece of soft muddy ground. St. Leger
and Sir John Johnson, one of his officers, were en-
gaged in an angry altercation, each blaming the other
for misconduct during the siege. An Indian came
running after them, crying out, “Here they come!
Here they come!" The two officers began scamper-
ing with all their might, tumbling over in the mud in
a manner neither comfortable nor dignified. The
soldiers, catching the alarm, threw away their packs
and took to flight, as well as their commanders. The
Indians repeated the trick again and again, and kept
the British in a constant panic till they reached the
shores of Lake Oneida. Such was the disastrous
and humiliating termination of this enterprise. As
Stephano says of losing his boule in the pool, there
was not only loss, but great dishonor.
The disaffection of Burgoyne's Indian allies was
completed by the victories of Bennington and Still-
water, and they abandoned him to his fate. We hear
no more of the movements of Brant till the following
year, when he made an expedition against Cherry
Valley, where a fort had been erected as a place of
refuge for the families in the neighborhood. With
a body of savages, he approached the fort cautiously
to reconnoitre. It happened that, on this day, the boys
ºn-ANT. 243
of the neighborhood had assembled for their amuse-
ment, and were training with wooden muskets. The
Indians obtained an indistinct view of them through
the woods, and imagined them to be men. Believing
the garrison too strong for his force, Brant dared not
attack the place, but secreted his men behind a large
rock near the road leading to the Mohawk. An offi-
cer, who had been to the fort to carry intelligence of
a reinforcement being about to march for its relief.
was on his way back, when he was fired upon from
their ambush, and ſell from his horse. Brant, ever
foremost in deeds of blood, sprang from his hiding-
place, and tomahawked him with his own hands.
Shortly after he attacked Springfield, the birth-place
of Benjamin West, burnt the town and carried off a
number of prisoners. On this occasion, however, he
showed more than common humanity; the women
and children were spared.
The detail of the ruthless deeds of this savage
marauder now brings us to one of the most calamitous
and heart-rending occurrences of the revolutionary
war-the destruction of Wyoming—an event which
has aſſorded a theme for one of the most gifted among
modern English poets. The beautiful valley of
Wyoming, on the east branch of the Susquehanna,
seemed destined by nature for the abode of peace and
sylvan repose. The opening stanzas of the poem of
Campbell, describe its characteristics with some license
of the writer's imagination.


“On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming,
Although the wild-ſlower on thy ruinº wall
Andrºs homes a sad remembrance bring

244
Lºan T.
of what thy gentle people did befall,
Yet thouwert once the loveliest land of all
That see th' Atlantic wave their morn restore.
sweet land: may Ithy lost delights recall,
And paint thy Gertrude in her bower of yore,
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsylvania's shore.
It was beneath thy skies that but to prune
His autumn fruits, or skim the light canoe
Perchance alongthy river calm at noon,
The happy shepherd swain had nought to do
From morn till evening's sweeter pastime drew
Their timbrel in the dance of forest brown,
where lovely maidens prankt in flowere new;
And aye, those sunny mountains halfway down,
Would echo flagelet from some romantic town.
There, where of Indian hills the daylight takes
His leave, how might you the flamingo see,
Disporting like a meteor on the lakes;
And playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree,
And every sound of life was full of glee,
From merry mock-bird's song, or hum of men;
While hearkening, fearing nought their revelry,
The wild deer arch'd his neck from glades, and then
Unhunted, sought his woods and wilderness again.
And scarce had Wyoming of war or crime
Heard but in transatlantic story rung;
For here the exile met from every cline,
And spoke in friendship every distant tongue;
Men from the blood of warring Europe sprung
were but divided by the running brook;
And happy where no Rhenish trumpet sung,
or plains no sieging mine's volcano shook,
The blue-eyed German changed his sword to pruning-
hook.”
The first settlers of Wyoming were from New
England, and the population were subsequently aug-
I-n-ANT. 215

mented by a body of German emigrants. At the
period of the catastrophe, it was in the most flourish-
ing condition, and contained eight townships, each
five miles square, beautifully situated on both the
sloping banks of the stream. The valley was so
populous that a thousand soldiers had been raised
here for the continental army. Unfortunately, there
was a considerable mixture of royalists among the
inhabitants, and civil discord and animosity raged, in
this sequestered spot, with all the rancorous heat of a
political capital. The act of sending away all the
effective strength of the population was a piece of
great imprudence, and the inhabitants soon received
warnings from the neighborhood, that they were inim-
minent danger. The quiet of the valley had been in-
terrupted, during the year 1777, by petty incursions
of the Indians, and marauding attacks by parties of
the tory refugees of their own people; and it was only
by a vigorous opposition, and a series of successful
skirmishes, that these troublesome invaders had been
driven of Since then several more royalists, and
others not before suspected, had abandoned the settle-
ment, and gone among the enemy, carrying with them
not only full information of the state of affairs in the
place, but such feelings of resentment and malignity,
as could not fail of stimulating anew the hostile tem-
per of the refugees, and exciting the Indian appetite
for plunder, devastation and blood.
Early in 1778, intelligence was received that a
large force of British and savages was collecting at
Niagara, for the purpose of laying waste the frontiers
of New York, Pennsylvania and Virginia. An unu-


216 Lº-T.
sual number of strangers began to make their appear-
ance at Wyoming, under various pretences, whose
behavior became so suspicious, that many were
arrested. Upon their examination, there appeared
strong evidence that they were acting in concert with
the enemy, and that a scheme was on foot for the
destruction of the settlement. Twenty of the sus-
pected persons were accordingly sent off to Connecti-
cut for trial, and the remainder were forcibly expelled
from the neighborhood. Application was made to
congress for military assistance; but the war in other
parts of the country so completely occupied their
attention that no relief was afforded by the govern-
ment. The inhabitants of Wyoming were compelled
to trust to their own strength for their defence. They
erected four forts, and garrisoned them in the best
manner they were able.
Brant and his Indians combined with the tories
under the command of Colonel John Butler, to fall
upon Wyoming. As the time fixed upon for the
attack drew near, the savages practised unusual
treachery. For several weeks they repeatedly sent
small parties to the settlement, making the strongest
professions of friendship. These parties, besides
lulling the people into security, carried on a corre-
spondence with the disaffected persons there, and acted
as spies. On the 1st of July, 1778, the enemy sud-
denly appeared in full ſorce on the Susquehanna,
consisting of twelve hundred British and tories, and
four hundred Indians. All the whites were disguised
and painted as Indians, except the officers, who wore
their British regimentals. One of the small forts was


ºn-N- 217
immediately given up by the treachery of the garrison,
who were secretly inclined to the tories. Another
was taken by storm, and all, except the women and
children, massacred, in the most inhuman manner.
Colonel Zebulon Butler, the second in command at
Wyoming, was cousin to the tory leader, and expe-
rienced all the unnatural and deplorable effects of
civil rage, in extinguishing the sentiments of human-
ity and severing the ties of kindred. Leaving a
small party in the fort at Wilkesbarre, he crossed the
Susquehanna with about four hundred men, and took
post at Kingston fort, which was crowded with women,
children and defenceless people. On the 3d of July,
he marched out in search of the enemy, but was
attacked by a much superior force. In the heat of
the action, Brant, with a body of his warriors, issued
suddenly from a swamp and ſell with great fury upon
the left flank of the Americans, who at length gave
way, completely routed.
The ſort was now closely besieged, and, as there
appeared to be no chance of escape, the commander
proposed a parley with his kinsman and enemy.
This was agreed to, and the American suffered him-
self to be overreached by the treacherous cunning of
the tory commander. The conference was to be held
in the open field, at such a distance from the fort as
to exclude all possibility of protection from it. Four
hundred men, the whole strength of the garrison,
marched out with their commander, who was not
altogether without suspicion of the designs of his
enemy. On arriving at the place, they found none
of the opposite party there. Advancing somewhat


248 ---T-
farther to the foot of a mountain, they discovered a
few persons displaying a white flag, and retiring as
the garrison approached them. This was a device to
lead the Americans into a snare. They followed the
flag till, on a sudden, they found themselves attacked
on every side by the whole force of the enemy.
The conflict was maintained for three quarters of
an hour, when a panic caused the Americans to break
their ranks and fly. The remainder of the affair was
but a bloody massacre of the fugitives. Butler, with
about seventy men, escaped, and regained the fort
where he found himself closely besieged again the
next day. The enemy, to intimidate the garrison,
sent in to them the scalps of one hundred and ninety-
six of their late friends. Butler deemed it useless to
attempt any further defence of the place, and aban-
doned it with his family, leaving the command to
Colonel Denison. This officer determined on another
trial for negotiating with the enemy. He went with
a flag of truce to the tory commander, demanding
what terms he would grant on a surrender. Butler
replied, with savage address, “ The hatchet.” Deni-
son, having defended the fort till most of his men
were killed or disabled, surrendered at discretion, on
the 4th of July.
The scenes that followed are too horrible for detail.
Savage cruelty was glutted to the full extent. The
tomahawk and the firebrand completed the destruc-
tion of Wyoming. Men, women, children, and even
cattle, were involved in a common massacre. The
tories surpassed their Indian associates in ferocity,
and Butler was a far greater savage than Brant, on




ºn ANT. 219
this occasion; yet the tender mercies of the latter
were cruel. Mr. Campbell has given a striking pic-
ture of his barbarities, in the language which he puts
into the mouth of the Oneida chief, while warning the
people of Wyoming that the enemy were at hand.
*But this is not a time—he started up,
And smote his breast with woºdenouncing hand-
This is no time to fill the joyous cup:
The mammoth comes-the-toe-the monster Brant,
With all his howling, desolating band-
These eyes have seen their blade, and burning pine,
Awake at once, and silence half your land;
Red is the cup they drink, but not with wine,
Awake and watch to-night, or see no morning shine.
Scorning to wield the hatchet for his bribe,
'Gainst Brant himself. I went to battle forth,
Accursed Brantº-Heleſt of all my tribe
Norman, nor child, northing of living birth.
No-not the dog that watched my household hearth
Escaped that night of blood upon our plains;
All perished!-1 alone am left on earth-
To whom nor relative nor blood remains,
No-not a kindred drop that runs in human veins!”

Brant continued an active partisan of the British
during the remainder of the revolutionary war. In
November, 1778, he assisted a party of tories in an
attack on the settlements in Cherry Valley, where the
horrors of Wyoming were renewed. These repeated
disasters at length directed the attention of the Amer-
ican government to this quarter, and, in the summer
of 1779, an army, under General Sullivan, marched
upon the Susquehanna. Brant and Butler, with a
force of eight hundred Indians and tories, entrenched
250 Bºº...ANT.
themselves at Newtown, to oppose the advance of
Sullivan. On the 29th of August, they were attacked,
and, aſter an engagement of two hours, defeated and
put to flight. The Americans destroyed forty Indian
villages and completely laid waste the country.
These severities checked the hostilities of the savages
for a year; but, in the summer of 1779, Brant was
again in the field, and fell suddenly upon Minisink,
in Orange county, New York. He plundered and
burnt the place, and drew a body of militia, who
turned out to pursue him, into an ambush, where the
greater part of them were killed. In the spring of
the following year he surprised Harpersfield, and
carried off many prisoners. In August, he ſell upon
Canajoharie, and committed great devastations. He
continued to be the scourge of the frontier till the
close of the revolutionary contest.
The peace of 1782 put an end to Brant's military
career. He took no part in the Indian hostilities of
1791 and 1793, but exerted himself to bring about
a pacification, and avowed friendly feelings toward
the United States. He visited Philadelphia and
New York, in 1792, and had an interview with
Washington. On the march of General Wayne into
the Indian territory, Brant was one of the Indian
ambassadors who waited upon him, and attempted to
negotiate for the Ohio as a boundary between the
two parties. He appears to have been at this time
superior to all the other Indian chiefs in authority
and influence, and is called, in the publications of the
day, their “king of kings.” He owed this title,
however, less to any positive rank than to the influ-



---T- 251
ence which his superior knowledge and talent gained
him among his countrymen. He was their chief
negotiator, and the director of their councils.
As a recompense for his services in the revolution-
ary war, the British government made him a grant
of land at the western extremity of Lake Ontario.
Here he finally established himself and continued to
the day of his death. His residence was on Grand
river, twenty-four miles from Newark, where he had
a farm and garden under cultivation, a half-blood wife
and forty negro slaves. His manners and dress were
almost entirely European, and the domineering spirit
he displayed toward his black menials showed that he
could imitate the worst characteristics of the whites.
A traveller, who visited his seat, says, “These
poor creatures are kept in the greatest subjection,
and they dare not attempt to make their escape, for
he has assured them that, if they did so, he would
follow them himself, though it were to the confines
of Georgia, and would tomahawk them wherever he
met them. They know his disposition too well not to
think that he would strictly adhere to his word.”
Notwithstanding his savage propensities, he always
entertained visitors in a polite and hospitable manner.
During the latter part of his life, he received from the
British government a captain's half pay, together
with annual presents, the whole amounting to five
hundred pounds sterling a year. The Mohawk
Indians inhabited his neighborhood, having removed
from their former residence in the state of New York
at the conclusion of the revolutionary war. Brant
managed their affairs with much ability, and rendered
them great service in the leasing of their lands.

252 ºn-T.
In 1796, he put his own son to death, in a quarrel.
The son was a dissolute, worthless fellow, and had
often threatened the life of his father. He afterwards
spoke of this act with regret, but consoled himself by
the reflection that he had done a service to his coun-
trymen by ridding them of a rascal. The character
of Brant was a strange compound. He wished for
leisure amid his public cares, that he might devote
his time to the study of Greek, of which language he
professed himself an ardent admirer. He translated
a portion of the New Testament into the Mohawk
tongue, and designed to finish the work when affairs
of state allowed him sufficient time.
The latter part of the life of this singular man
appears to have been undisturbed, except by the
domestic troubles which we have related. He died
on the 24th of November, 1807, leaving several chil-
dren. One of his sons became a member of the colo-
nial assembly of Upper Canada. This person visited
England in 1822, and appears to have been keenly
sensible of the odium attached to his name in conse-
quence of the severe terms in which the poet Camp-
bell had spoken of his father. He took some pains to
show that he was less to blame for the bloody deeds
of Wyoming, than had been generally supposed, and
Mr. Campbell was so far convinced, that he publicly
avowed that he had judged too harshly of the savage
chieftain. Still there can be no question that the
character of Brant is disgraced by savage cruelty;-
the more inexcusable as he had the advantage of a civ-
ilized education. That he was a person of superior
abilities, there can be as little doubt. He was, per-


I-A-N-T- 253
haps, the most successful leader that the red men
have ever had in their contests with the whites; and
the degree of civilization to which he attained must
be pronounced remarkable, when we consider the
strong obstacles which military habits throw in the
way of every species of refinement and mental culti-
-ation.

T-----------


TEC U M S E H
This renowned warrior was born on the Scioto,
near the present site of Chillicothe, in Ohio. His
father, Pukeesheeno, was a Shawanese chief, and was
killed fighting against the Virginians, at the battle of
Point Pleasant, in 1774. His mother had three sons
at one birth, Tecumseh, Ellskwatawa and Kumskaka.
Of the latter we have no further account, but Tecum-
seh and his brother Ellskwatawa, or the Prophet,
became the two most famous Indian chiefs of their
day. Tecumseh, in the Shawanese language, signi-
fies a cougar crouching for his prey, and Ellskwa-
tawa an open door. The date of their birth is about
the year 1770. Tecumseh engaged in the hostilities
which led to the defeat of St. Clair in 1792, and, at this
early age, became distinguished for his prowess and
his animosity toward the Americans. He continued
fighting against them until General Wayne had given
the Indians a severe overthrow, and effected a pacifi-
cation by the treaty of Greenville, in 1795. The
hatchet was then laid aside for several years. Tecum-
seh acquired great influence among his countrymen
by his sagacity and penetration, and was particularly
noted for the uniform sobriety of his habits.
The government of the tribe in the mean time was
administered nominally by his brother, the Prophet,
but Tecumseh was in fact the chief director of pub-
lic affairs. His hostility to the Americans was


256 Tºcu-sºil.
silently cherished during the whole interval of
peace. His views being expanded and his judgment
matured by years and experience, he began to enter-
tain thoughts of a scheme which had exercised the
talents of Philip and Pontiac, to unite all the tribes
in a confederacy against the whites. The intrigues
and impostures of his brother contributed to aid this
project in a singular manner. The Prophet, during
the early part of his life, abandoned himself to stupid
intoxication, but, about the year 1804, a sudden and
remarkable change came over him, and he was
inspired with a singular project. The story of this
event is in substance as follows. One day, while in
the act of lighting his pipe in his wigwam, he ſell
back in a trance upon his bed, and continued a long
time motionless and without any signs of life. He
was supposed to be dead, and preparations were made
for his burial. All the principal men of the tribe
were assembled, according to custom, around the
body of their chief, and they were in the act of bear-
ing him away to his grave, when he suddenly
revived, and uttered these words: “Be not alarmed-
I have seen heaven. Call the tribe together, that I
may reveal to them the whole of my vision.” The
tribe were accordingly collected together, and he
proceeded to inform them that two beautiful young
men had been sent from heaven by the Great Spirit,
who addressed him in the following language:– “The
Great Spirit is angry with you, and will destroy all
the red men, unless you abandon drunkenness, lying
and stealing. If you will not do this, and turn your-
selves to him, you shall never enter the beautiful

Tecumsen. 257
place which we will now show you." He was then
conducted to the gates of heaven, where he was
indulged with a sight of all its glories, but not per-
mitted to enter. After being tantalized in this man-
ner for several hours, he was ordered to return to
the earth, inform the Indians of what he had seen,
and urge them to repent of their vices, and they would
visit him again.
It was in consequence of this vision that Ellskwa-
tawa assumed the name and functions of a prophet,
and soon acquired an extraordinary celebrity. He
established himself at Greenville, where Wayne's
army had been cantoned in 1795, and the treaty with
the Indians concluded. Here he proclaimed himself
a Prophet and Reformer, and announced that the
Great Spirit who had made the red men, was not the
same that made the white men; that the misfor-
tunes which had befallen the red men, were owing to
their having abandoned the mode of life which he had
first taught them, and imitated the manners of the
whites; and that he was commanded to tell them that
they must return to their former habits, leave off the
use of whiskey, discard the coats and blankets of the
white men, and clothe themselves in skins. The
ſame of the Prophet spread through all the surround-
ing tribes, and he soon found himself at the head of a
large number of followers. It is remarkable that
although the purpose of his mission was the reforma-
tion of the morals of his people, the greater number
of his adherents consisted of the most abandoned
characters. They were principally young men of the
Shawanese, Delawares, Wyandots, Potawotamies,
Q.




258 TECUM's EL-
Ottawas, Chippeways and Kickapoos-dissolute, un-
principled and roving adventurers. But we can find
a parallel in the history of past times. The first
band of crusaders who marched to the rescue of the ,
Holy Sepulchre, were mostly men of the same stamp.
Novelty and the love of adventure were the main
stimulants in both cases.
Besides his ordinary followers, the Prophet was
visited by immense throngs of men, women and chil-
dren from the tribes on the Upper Mississippi and
Lake Superior. The most extravagant tales were
told, and believed by the Indians, of his power to per-
form miracles; and they considered no fatigue or suf-
ſering too great to be endured for a sight of him.
The inhabitants of Ohio became alarmed at witness-
ing this great assemblage of the savages upon their
frontier, and the governor of the state sent a messen-
ger to the Prophetto insist upon their removal. The
agent of the United States at Fort Wayne, also per-
ceiving the design of their crafty leader to fix himself
permanently at Greenville, which was within the
American limits, seconded these remonstrances so
strongly that he was compelled to remove. In 1808
he abandoned Greenville, with all his followers, and
selected a new residence on the north bank of the
Wabash, near the mouth of the Tippecanoe.
The occupation of this place was also illegal, as
the territory belonged to the Miami tribe, who had
never given their consent to the intrusion. They
made strong remonstrances against it, but the Prophet
paid no heed to them. His followers now comprised
a strong body of the most daring and unprincipled
Tecumisºu. 2.59

young blades to be found in the whole Indian terri-
tory; and, adopting the principle of “might makes
right,” which has been acted upon by many a greater
man, he maintained his post at Tippecanoe by force
of arms, and the Miamies were too weak to expel him.
All the chiefs of the surrounding tribes, with hardly
an exception, were hostile to him, as they saw that
he was constantly endeavoring to destroy their influ-
ence, and to propagate a seditious and revolutionary
spirit among their people. These efforts were attended
with such success, that several of the chiefs were
put to death, at the instigation of the Prophet's
partisans, on charges of practising sorcery. Tete-
boxke, the venerable chief of the Delawares, and sev-
eral of his friends were burnt at the stake. Fanati-
cism, whether in civilized or savage communities, runs
the same career. These severe measures, however,
soon had the effect of injuring the cause of their
author. In the course of a year, his adherents fell
off to such an extent that he was left with not more
than three hundred warriors in his train. In their
dissolute idleness, they suffered much for want of
provisions, and many of them would have starved,
had they not been supplied with corn by General
Harrison, the governor of the territory of Indiana.
In September, 1809, a treaty was concluded at
Fort Wayne, between the Delawares, Miamies and
Potawotamies, and General Harrison, as commissioner
on the part of the United States. By this treaty the
Indians ceded to the government, a tract of land extend-
ing sixty miles along the Wabash above Vincennes.
This was done without the advice or knowledge of


260 Tºcu-sen.
Tecumseh, and neither the prophet nor any of his
followers were present during the transaction. They
had no claim to the land in question, it having been in
the legal possession of the Miamies time out of mind.
The chiefs of the other tribes attended the council, and
advised the cession, and the transaction was in every
respect regular and equitable. Yet Tecumseh, who
had been absent during the negotiation, on a mission
of intrigue among the different tribes, was inflamed
with anger when he returned, and learnt what had
been done. He openly threatened to kill the chiefs
who had signed the treaty, and declared his determi-
nation to prevent the land from being surveyed and
occupied by the Americans. Harrison, being informed
of this, sent him a message, informing him that if he
possessed any just claims to the territory, they would
not be annulled by the treaty; that he might come to
Vincennes and exhibit his pretensions, and if they
proved to be well founded, the land would either be
given up to him, or a satisfactory indemnity allowed.
Accordingly, in August, 1810, Tecumseh proceeded
to Vincennes, attended by several hundred warriors.
A day was appointed for a conference, and the savage
chief pleaded his cause in a long speech to the gov-
ernor, amounting in substance to this—that the Great
Spirit had made the Western World for the sole use of
the Indians; that the white men had no right to come
there and take the land away from them; that the ter-
ritory was held in common by all the red men, no par-
ticular part being the property of any one tribe; and
that, consequently, no sale of land made without the
consent of all, was authentic or valid. There would

TE-UM's EH. 261

have been a show of plausibility in this argument,
had this savage expounder of law been able to show
that the red men of the western continent were in
reality one political family; but as it was notorious
that the various tribes were almost constantly in a
state of hostility with one another, his argument was
clearly unsound. Governor Harrison heard him
patiently to the end, and then replied, in a manner
which the rudest savage could understand-that
the Indians, like the white people, were divided
into many different tribes and nations, having no
common association or interest; that the Great Spirit
never designed that they should form a single com-
munity, which was evident from the fact that they
spoke different languages, thus putting it out of their
power to understand each other; that Tecumseh
could have no claim to the land ceded by the treaty,
as he was of the Shawanese tribe, whº emigated from
Georgia; and, finally, that the lands on the Wabash
had been peaceably possessed by the Miamies beyond
the memory of any man living.
The interpreter, who translated this reply into the
Shawanese, had not quite finished, when Tecumseh
interrupted him with the exclamation, “It is all false.”
At the same time, giving a signal to his men, they
grasped their tomahawks and war clubs, and sprang
up from the grass on which they had been sitting.
Harrison leaped from his seat and drew his sword.
He was for some minutes in imminent danger; his
immediate attendants were all unarmed, and the only
guard in the neighborhood consisted of a sergeant and
twelvemen. He maintained, however, the utmost cool-


262 Tecumsen.
ness, and ordered the guard to advance. Both parties
now faced each other with the most menacing aspect;
tomahawks were raised, swords unsheathed, and
pistols cocked. The firm countenance of the gov-
ernor intimidated the savages, and they thought it pru-
dent not to strike. After a short suspense, he broke
silence, and told Tecumseh that he was a bad man, and
he would have nothing more to do with him. He there-
fore ordered him to retire immediately to his camp
and return home. Thus ended the conference. The
parties separated, and the militia of the neighborhood
were ordered into the town during the night, to defend
the inhabitants from the attack which was expected.
The savages, having slept upon the matter, con-
sidered it more coolly the next morning, and deferred
their hostilities. At an early hour, their chief sent
for the interpreter, and, after making an apology for
his passionate behavior, earnestly requested another
parley with the governor. Wishing to try every
method of terminating the business amicably, Harri-
son consented, but took the precaution to go attended
by a strong guard. Tecumseh made another speech,
affirming that he had been incited to his late proceed-
ings by some white persons, but that it was not his
intention to offer any violence to the governor. He
was asked whether he had any other grounds for his
claim to the lands, than those he had already stated.
He answered, No. Harrison then observed to him,
that so great a warrior as Tecumseh ought to disdain
all duplicity and concealment, and desired to know
whether he really designed to make war upon the
United States if they persisted in maintaining their

TECUMSEH. 263

right to the land which they had acquired by a fair
treaty. He replied that he was firmly resolved to do
this, and to defend the “old boundary.” Several of
the other warriors then started up and declared that
they would stand by Tecumseh and obey his orders.
This interview closed without any satisfactory
result, the savage chief avowing his determination
never to rest till he had brought all the tribes upon
the continent into a confederacy against the whites.
Harrison informed him that the United States would
defend their title to the land, but that his words
should be reported to the president, who would take
the proper steps in the affair. As Tecumseh had
abated the insolence of his demeanor since the first
conference, it was hoped that a farther interval might
bring him to reason. Harrison paid him a visit in
his camp the next day, and was received with great
civility. Along conversation was held, but the reso-
lution of the savage was inflexible. He affirmed that
he was very reluctant to go to war with the United
States, as he had no complaint against them, except
on the subject of their purchasing land from the
Indians. On the contrary, he was sincerely anxious
to be their friend, and if General Harrison could per-
suade the president to give up the territory lately
ceded, and agree never to make another treaty with-
out the consent of all the tribes, he would be their
constant and faithful ally, and assist them in all their
wars against the English–who were always treating
the Indians like dogs—clapping their hands and
crying “stuboy!” He would much prefer joining the
Seventeen Fires, but if the Americans would not give


264 TECUM's EH.
-
up the lands, he would join the English against them.
Harrison again assured him that his demands never
could be complied with by the president. “Well,”
replied Tecumseh, “as the great chief is to decide
the matter, I hope the Great Spirit will put sense
enough in his head to induce him to give you orders
to give up the land. It is true, he is so far off as to
be out of danger from the war. He may sit still in
his own town and drink his wine, while you and I
must fight it out.”
It was now evident that not a mere savage caprice,
but deep policy, and stern, inflexible resolution guided
the actions of the great chieftain. The general per-
ceived that an Indian war could not be avoided, and
he improved the opportunity, before the departure of
Tecumseh, to express to him a wish that, in case of
hostilities, no cruelty should be exercised upon prison-
ers. The chief assured him that he would do all in
his power to prevent it. We shall see hereafter that
he strictly kept his word. The negotiations of Vin-
cennes came to a final close, and the Indians departed.
Tecumseh and his brother continued their intrigues
to effect a general rising of the tribes against the
United States. The prophet visited the Creek In-
dians in the summer of 1811, and, we are told,
attempted to work upon their superstitious feelings
by announcing that a great lamp would shortly appear
in the west to aid him in his war against the whites;
and, in case the Creeks would not follow his direc-
tions, the earth would, before long, tremble to its
foundations. The comet of 1811, and an earthquake,
which was believed to have happened about that time,

TECUMSEH. 265

afforded the believers in the marvellous, ample food
for their credulity. The precise date of the predic-
tion is of material importance in settling his claim to
a foreknowledge of the events. This, however, is
wanting in the present case; but the prophet had no
lack of believers on that account.
Tecumseh did not suffer his passionate and vindic-
tive feelings to hurry him into any precipitate action
upon his plan of hostilities. It appears to have been
the original intention of this wary and experienced
politician, to avoid a war till he could organize a
combination among the tribes sufficiently powerful to
present an effectual resistance to the American arms,
or till his cause could be strengthened by a rupture
between the United States and Great Britain,_an
event which grew more and more probable every day.
In the mean time, he kept up a constant correspon-
dence with the British Indian department in Canada,
and his followers were supplied with arms, ammuni-
tion and clothing from the king's stores, at Malden. It
has been asserted that the plan of the Indian con-
federacy originated with the British government, but
of this we have no positive proof. We are only certain
that the Indians, who visited the British posts on the
frontier, were tampered with by the agents at those
places, and urged, by presents and promises, to hostil-
ities against the Americans. Their natural passion
for war was thus inflamed, and they were assured of
assistance from the British arms, in case they took up
the hatchet against “Big Knife,”—the name bestowed
on the Virginians and Kentuckians, who had given


266 TEC U-1sºn.
them the severe defeats which they had suffered in
the campaigns of Wayne and Dunmore.
Under the influence of all these motives, hostile
acts could not long be avoided. In 1811, Indian
depredations and murders began to alarm the inhabi-
tants along the frontiers of the territories of Indiana,
Illinois and Missouri. The authors of these outrages
being known, messages were sent to the chiefs of the
several tribes, demanding that they should be given
up. No satisfaction could be obtained. Governor Har-
rison, having summoned Tecumseh to restore some
stolen horses, was informed that the chief and his
brother would pay him a visit. It was agreed that
they might do so, provided they brought only thirty
followers. The governor knew these men too well
to trust them implicitly, and caused them to be closely
watched while yet at a distance. They were dis-
covered descending the river with a body of several
hundred. Their farther approach was forbidden, and
Tecumseh advanced with a few canoes, but was
quickly followed by his whole force, and they en-
camped within a mile of Vincennes. There was
every appearance that they intended to plunder the
town; but so large a force of militia was collected,
that the attempt was not made. A parley was held, in
which Harrison complained of the murders and rob-
beries committed by the Indians. Tecumseh replied
that he had never sheltered the offenders; but con-
ſessed his design of forming a grand confederacy
against the Americans. He stated that the policy
pursued by the United States, of purchasing the
Indian lands, he viewed as a “mighty water,” which


TECUM's EH. 267
threatened to overflow his people, and that his con-
federacy was a dam to resist the inundation.
This council served no other purpose than to show
the threatening state of affairs, and the unconquerable
perseverance of the savage leader in the prosecution
of his grand design. Two days after the council
broke up, he set off on a journey to the south. He
visited the Creeks, Choctaws and Chickasaws; then,
crossing the Mississippi, he returned northerly, and
continued his course up the stream as high as the
river Des Moines; from this point he crossed the
head streams of the Illinois, and returned to the
Wabash. The activity, ingenuity and perseverance
which he displayed in this expedition, are truly
wonderful. All the tribes which he visited were pre-
vailed upon, by his eloquence and his arguments, to
join in the grand Indian league, and oppose, as one
man, the encroachments of the Americans.
But, during his absence, affairs had taken a most
important turn. The Prophet, who had been left
with the sole authority at Tippecanoe, received
instructions from his brother to avoid coming to
extremities with the Americans, as matters were not
yet ripe for an explosion, but to restrain his followers
from committing depredations, which might afford
their enemies a plausible pretext for attacking them
before their schemes were fully organized. The Pro-
phet, however, lacked the sagacity and self-command
of his brother, and neither comprehended his plans, nor
possessed sufficient influence over the wild despera-
does around him to restrain their excesses. Murders
and depredations followed in quick succession; no


26S TECUMSEH.
redress could be obtained by the sufferers; and the
inhabitants of the frontier at length held a meeting at
Vincennes, and drew up a memorial to the president
of the United States, setting forth their dangers,
and requesting that a stop might be put to the out-
rages of the banditti of Tippecanoe.
This produced immediate effect. A regiment of
United States' troops, under Colonel Boyd, was ordered
from Pittsburg to Vincennes. Governor Harrison
was authorized to raise the militia, take command of
the whole force, and expel the Prophet and his ſol-
lowers. The militia were immediately called out;
volunteers flocked to the rendezvous, and, about the
end of September, 1811, Harrison, at the head of
nine hundred men, began his march up the Wabash.
Conformably to his orders, he halted within the limits
of the United States, and despatched some Delaware
and Miami Indians to induce the Prophet to give up
the murderers and the stolen horses which he had
with him. These messengers of peace were received
and treated with great insolence, and the demands
were rejected with haughty disdain by the Prophet
and his council. So far from wishing to accommo-
date matters, or to defer the breaking out of the war,
the Indians detached a small party to begin hostilities
by cutting of any stragglers which they might fall in
with near the American camp. Finding none, they
fired upon one of the sentinels and wounded him
severely. The messengers on returning, informed
Harrison that it was vain to expect peace, and that
nothing but force could obtain either satisfaction for
injuries done, or security for the future. They



TECUM's EII. 269
assured him farther, that the strength of the prophet's
party was hourly increasing by the arrival of crowds
of giddy young sparks from every quarter, particu-
larly from the tribes on the Illinois.
Harrison was now convinced that nothing but an
immediate advance upon the enemy would bring mat-
ters to a crisis. On the 29th of October, he resumed
his march. Two routes led to the Prophet's town;
one on the north and the other on the south shore of
the Wabash. The latter was the more direct, but
led through a hilly region, covered with wood. The
northern route passed over wide prairies, which
afforded few situations favorable for ambuscades.
To impose on the enemy, a route was reconnoitred
on the south side of the river, and a wagon road begun.
Having advanced a short distance along this line, the
army suddenly wheeled to the left and crossed the
Wabash. By this manoeuvre the Indians were com-
pletely out-generalled, and sent their detached parties
in a direction where no enemy was to be found. Har-
rison continued to advance, till, on the 6th of November,
he arrived within five or six miles of Tippecanoe,
where he first obtained a sight of the enemy. The
advanced guard approached the Indians, and endeav-
ored to open a parley with them, but they replied only
with manifestations of insult and defiance. The
whole army then moved forward with the utmost
caution, while clouds of savages hung upon their
front and flanks. Within a mile and a half of the
town, they were met by three Indians, one of them a
principal counsellor of the Prophet. They demanded
to know why the troops were advancing against them.

270 TECL-is-H.
They stated that their leader wished, if possible, to
avoid hostilities, and that he had sentapacific message
by the Miami and Potowatomie chief, who had unfor-
tunately gone down on the wrong side of the Wabash.
Harrison indulged a hope that the savages, perceiv-
ing the Americans were in earnest, had atlast resolved
to compromise matters. He agreed to a suspension
of hostilities, and the next day was appointed for a
council to treat of peace. The army encamped on a
little elevation skirted by a prairie. Notwithstanding
the pacific demonstrations of the Indians, the general,
like a prudent commander, took every precaution
against treachery. A strong night-guºrd was placed
on duty; all the forces were distributed in a manner
to enable them to act at a moment's warning. The
strictest vigilance was enjoined upon every one, and
all necessary preparations were made for a surprise.
The sun went down at the close of a quiet afternoon,
—the hum and bustle of the Indian town died away
into perfect repose. The moon rose at a late hour.
The stillness of midnight was not interrupted by a
single sound; all breathed of quietness and peace,
and the near approach of dawn indicated that every
danger was past; but the moment of most imminent
peril was now at hand.
A little after four in the morning, a sentinel, who
was gazing on the wide prairie before him, had his
attention roused by a strange movement on its sur-
face. Not a breath of wind was stirring, yet the tall
grass was waving as if under the influence of astrong
breeze. Rapidly the noiseless waves approached
nearer till they broke against the eminence at his



Tecum-sell. 271
feet. He cried, “Who goes there?" but no voice
was heard in reply. Suddenly, with the quick
thought of a backwoodsman, he stooped down, and,
looking under the grass, beheld an Indian stealthily
creeping towards him! He fired; in an instant a
tremendous yell arose from the prairie, and a cloud
of savage warriors rushed upon the American lines.
But the troops were better prepared for their recep-
tion than they imagined. Harrison, knowing from
experience the hour of the greatest danger, was
already at his post, and every officer prepared for
action. The troops, who had lain upon their arms,
were marshalled with great promptness. All the
watch-fires were immediately extinguished, that the
enemy might not be guided by them in directing their
attacks.
The American left flank received the first onset.
The guard in that quarter gave way, overpowered by
numbers and the fury of the assault. The general
hastened to the spot, and ordered up several compa-
nies from the centre, which kept the enemy in check.
The attack was now extended to front, flank and rear,
and a most deadly fire from the enemy nearly sur-
rounded the American camp. The Indians rushed
upon the lines and retreated alternately, making a
loud rattling noise with deer-hoofs. They fought with
the utmost resolution, and seemed determined to van-
quish or die. The Prophet was not in the battle, but
sat on a hill adjacent, singing a war-song. He had
told his men that the Great Spirit would render the
guns of the Americans useless, and that their bullets
would not hurt the Indians, who would have light,

272 Tecumsen.
while their enemies would be involved in thick dark-
ness. But, soon after the commencement of the battle,
he was told that his men were falling; he ordered
them to fight on, for his predictions would soon prove
true, and continued singing louder than ever. The
Indians maintained the conflict with undaunted reso-
tion, rushing up to the bayonets of the troops and
striking at them with their tomahawks and war-clubs.
But the Americans sustained the charges with great
coolness and intrepidity, and repulsed their assailants.
With the dawn of day the contest began to turn in
their favor. They charged the enemy on all sides,
drove them into the woods and swamps, and put an
end to the conflict.
Such was the battle of Tippecanoe, one of the
hardest fought actions ever gained by the American
arms. The two parties were about equal in numbers,
each amounting to eight hundred men; but a great
part of the Americans were raw troops, totally inex-
perienced in military affairs. They had fifty killed,
and double that number wounded. The Indians are
supposed to have suffered an equal loss. General
Harrison narrowly escaped, the hair of his head being
cut by a bullet.
Tippecanoe was instantly abandoned by the Indians,
and the troops found nobody there except achief whose
leg was fractured. This defeat broke up for a time
the Indian confederacy. Tecumseh was unable to
raise any considerable savage force against the Amer-
icans till the commencement of the war of 1812. On
his return from the south, finding the warriors of
Tippecanoe dispersed, and his brother fled, he pro-



TECUM's EII. 273
ceeded to the American post of Fort Wayne. He
still cherished the same haughty spirit and obstinate
resolution in endeavoring to combine the savage tribes
against their greatenemy. He spoke with much bit-
terness of Harrison, whom he never could forgive for
expelling his men from Tippecanoe. He attempted,
by threats and insolent language, to obtain ammuni-
tion from the commander of the fort, but being
refused, he said he would go to his British father, who
would not deny him. He appeared thoughtful for a
while, then gave the war-whoop and went away.
Before the war with Great Britain had actually
broken out, he began to put his threats in execution.
Small parties committed depredations on the frontiers
of Indiana, Illinois and Ohio, early in the spring of
1812; but we hear little of Tecumseh personally,
until after the disastrous campaign of General Hull,
which brought the whole northern hive of savages
down upon the defenceless settlements of the Ameri-
can frontier. The British had now engaged them as
auxiliaries in the war, and Tecumseh received a com-
mission of brigadier-general. With a strong body of
warriors he joined the army of General Procter, when
Harrison took the field, in the autumn of 1813, and
marched toward Detroit. Procter, with a very strong
force, occupied Malden, on the opposite side of the
river. Here he at first determined to wait the attack
of Harrison, but the unexpected victory of the Ameri-
cans on Lake Erie had given them the command of
the waters, and he decided to burn Malden and
retreat into the interior. Tecumseh, who possessed
more courage than the British commander, could not
º
274 TECUM-Lii.
hear of this design without indignation, and addressed
him in the following speech:
“Father!-Listen to your children: you have them
now all before you. In the old war our British father
gave the hatchet to his red children when our old
chiefs were alive. They are now dead. In that war
our British father was thrown on his back by the
Americans, and he took them by the hand without
our knowledge. We are afraid our father will do so
again this time. In the summer before last, when I
came forward with my red brethren, and was ready to
take up the hatchet in favor of our British father, we
were told not to be in a hurry, for he had not yet
determined to fight the Americans.
“Listen!—When war was declared, our father
stood up and gave us the tomahawk, and told us that
he was then ready to strike the Americans; that he
wanted our assistance; and that he would certainly
get our lands back which the Americans had taken
from us.
“Listen!—You told us at that time to bring forward
our families to this place; and we did so. You
promised to take care of them, and they should want
for nothing while the men went to fight the enemy;
that we need not trouble ourselves about the enemy's
garrisons; that we knew nothing about them, and
that our father would attend to that part of the busi-
ness. You also told yourred children that you would
take good care of your garrison here, which made our
hearts glad.
* Listen!—When we were last at the Rapids, it is
true we gave you but little assistance. It is hard to
fight people who live like ground hogs.


Tecumsen. 275
“Father, listen!-Our ships have gone out upon
the lake; we know they have fought; we have heard
the great guns; but we know nothing of what has
happened to our father with the great guns. Our
ships have gone one way, and we are much aston-
ished to see our father packing up everything and
preparing to run off the other way, without letting his
red children know what his intentions are. You
always told us to remain here, and take care of our
lands; it made our hearts glad to hear that was your
wish. Our great father, the king, is the head, and
you represent him. You always told us that you
would never draw your foot of British ground, but
now we see you are drawing back, and we are sorry
to see our father do so without seeing the enemy.
Our father is like a fat dog, that sticks his tail over
his back when there is no danger, but, assoon as he is
frightened, drops it between his legs and runs off
“Father, listen!—The Americans have not yet
beaten us by land, nor are we sure they have doneso
by water. We therefore wish to stay here and fight
the enemy if they come. If they beat us, we will
then retreat with our father. At the battle of the
Rapids, in the last war, the Americans certainly
defeated us, and when we retreated to our father's
fort at that place, the gates were shut against us.
We were afraid this would happen again; but, instead
of this, we now see our British father preparing to
march out of his garrison.
“Father!-You have got the arms and ammunition
which our great father sent for his red children. If
you mean to go away, give them to us, and you may


276 Tecumsen.
go and welcome. Our lives are in the hands of the
Great Spirit. We are determined to defend our
lands, and, if it be his will, we wish to leave our bones
upon them.”
It is believed that, had the British general followed
the advice of his savage ally, and made a stand
against the Americans at Malden, the result would
have been much more favorable to the British. The
remonstrance of Tecumseh, however, had no effect.
Procter set fire to the town and retreated with precip-
itation. Tecumseh had above two thousand Indians
under his command, but was obliged to retreat in
company with the British. Harrison crossed the
river and advanced rapidly in pursuit. He overtook
the retreating army at the Moravian towns, on the
river Thames, and, on the 5th of October, 1813, forced
them to battle. Each side numbered about twenty-
five hundred men. The British were posted in an
advantageous situation, with their flanks protected by
the river and a swamp. Tecumseh, with his whole
savage force, was stationed on the left. It is not our
purpose to give a minute account of the battle. The
Indians fought desperately, and, as they were charged
by the Americans, reserved their fire with great cool-
nesstill the columns had approached within a few paces
of their line, when they poured upon them so destruc-
tive a volley that the front ranks were nearly all cut
down. Tecumseh was foremost among his men, ani-
mating them to the conflict by his voice and gestures.
Colonel Johnson, who led on the mounted infantry
against them, ordered his men to dismount and form
in line. This was done, and a fierce and sanguinary




TECUM's EH. 277
conflict was maintained for a short space. Tecumseh
was shot dead; and the whole Indian band, no longer
able to sustain the charge of the Americans, gave
way, fled into the swamp, and dispersed. The British
right wing had been previously routed, and the victory
was complete. More than six hundred prisoners were
taken. The British general escaped by the fleetness
of his horse, but his carriage and sword fell into the
hands of the victors. This overthrow, and the death
of Tecumseh, who was the life and soul of the Indian
confederacy, completely broke the spirit of the sava-
ges. Seven of the hostile tribes immediately sued
for peace, delivered up their prisoners, and gave host-
ages for their pacific behavior.
Such was the close of the career of this famous
savage, who, if not the most successful, was, perhaps,
the most able military chief of all the northern tribes.
He possessed great qualities, sagacity, foresight, self-
command, valor, eloquence, and a strength of intel-
lect adequate to grasp great political schemes. If
we compare him with the British general under whom
he fought, we must pronounce him a far superior
man. He had more courage, more humanity, more
firmness, and understood better the art of war. Few
officers in the British service in America were so
well qualified to command in the field as this Indian
warrior. As a specimen of his geographical knowl-
edge we may cite the following anecdote. When the
British, under General Brock, were about to invade
Michigan, their commander asked Tecumseh what
sort of a country they must pass through in case they
penetrated into the interior. The chief, taking a roll



278 TECUMSEH-
of birch bark, extended it on the ground by means of
four stones; then drawing forth his scalping knife, he
etched upon it a map of the country, with the positions
of all the hills, woods, plains, morasses and roads,
forming an accurate military chart. In his person
Tecumseh wastalland muscular, with a dignified car-
riage and a piercing eye. He had a more than Indian
austerity of manners, which enabled him to control
the wayward and furious passions of the wild hordes
whom he led to battle. He was generally taciturn,
but, when occasion demanded it, he could speak with
great fluency and eloquence. At an interview with
General Harrison, a chair was offered to him, with
the words, “Your father requests you to take a seat.”
“My father!" exclaimed he, with great animation;
“the sun is my father, and the earth is my mother;
and on her bosom I will repose!” Saying this, he
seated himself in the Indian manner on the ground.
Tecumseh had none of the savage passion for gaudy
attire, and although great abundance of valuable
and ornamented clothing and trinkets fell into his
hands, he invariably wore a plain dress of deer skin.
His humanity deserves to be noticed to his special
honor. He faithfully adhered to the promise he
gave General Harrison, that he would do all in his
power to prevent cruelty to prisoners. Procter, the
British commander—a man infamous in the history of
bloody deeds—authorized and permitted the most atro-
cious massacres by the savages in his army. On one
occasion, Tecumseh, perceiving a number of American
prisoners about to be tomahawked, while the British
officers were quietly looking on, rushed in among


Tectºrspºrt. 279
them, flourished his sword, and called upon the
savages, for shame, to desist; adding “it is a disgrace
to kill a defenceless prisoner!"
Tecumseh left a son, who was fighting by the side
of his father when the latter was slain. The Prince
Regent of Englandmade him a present of a handsome
sword, as a token of respect for the memory of his
parent. In 1826, he emigrated to the west of the Mis-
sissippi. The Prophet was believed to have been killed
in November, 1812, at the capture of the Mississin-
away towns, on the Wabash, by the Americans; but it
subsequently appeared that he made his escape into
Canada. After the termination of the war he received
a pension from the British government, and continued
to reside there, till 1826, when he accompanied his
nephew to the west.

RED JACKET.
Sagoyewatha, who was called Red Jacket by the
whites, in consequence of his wearing such a garment
when a boy, was of the Seneca tribe-one of the Six
Nations. He was born about the year 1750, in the
western part of the state of New York. He was of a
plebeian family, and does not appear to have been
gifted with military talents, yet he attained the highest
distinction and influence among his tribe, solely by his
powers of eloquence. Of the early part of his career,
little appears to be known. After the close of the
revolutionary war, a great council of the Indian
nations was held at Fort Schuyler for the settlement
of affairs with the American commissioners. Red
Jacket distinguished himself at this council by his
opposition to the general wish for peace. He deliv-
ered a speech against “burying the hatchet,” and
urged the continuance of the war, with such elo-
quence and force, that the warriors were carried
away by the magic of his oratory; and it was only by
allowing time for the effect of it to dissipate and the
temper of his auditors to cool down by sober reflection,
that the more prudent and moderate of the chiefs
were enabled to give a pacific turn to their delibera-
tions.
About the year 1790, a council was held on the
shore of Lake Canandaigua, to negotiate a purchase




RED J Acket. 281
of land from the Indians. After two days spent in
discussing the terms, a treaty was agreed upon, and
only wanted the formality of a signature to make it
complete, when Red Jacket, who had not yet been
heard, arose to speak. An eyewitness thus describes
the scene. “With the grace and dignity of a Roman
senator, he drew his blanket around him, and with a
piercing eye surveyed the multitude. All was hushed;
nothing interposed to break the silence, save the gen-
tle rustling of the tree-tops, under whose shade they
were gathered. After a long and solemn, but not
unmeaning pause, he commenced his speech in a low
voice and sententious style. Rising gradually with the
subject, he depicted the primitive simplicity and hap-
piness of his nation, and the wrongs they had sus-
tained from the usurpations of white men, with such
a bold but faithful pencil that every auditor was soon
roused to vengeance or melted into tears. The effect
was inexpressible. But ere the emotions of admira-
tion and sympathy had subsided, the white men
became alarmed. They were in the heart of an
Indian country, surrounded by more than ten times
their number, who were inflamed by the remembrance
of their injuries, and excited to indignation by the
eloquence of a favorite chieſ. Appalled and terrified,
the white men cast a cheerless gaze upon the hordes
-around them. A nod from the chiefs might be the
onset of destruction. At this portentous moment,
Farmer's-Brother interposed. He replied not to his
brother chief, but with a sagacity truly aboriginal, he
caused a cessation of the council, introduced good
cheer, commended the eloquence of Red Jacket, and,
2S2 RED -Cº-ET.
before the meeting had re-assembled, with the aid of
other prudent chiefs, he had moderated the fury of
his nation to a more salutary review of the question
before them.”
The ſame of his great eloquence gained Red Jacket
a powerful influence, not only in his own tribe, but
among all the Six Nations of Indians. At one time
he fell into discredit with his people, from what cause
does not appear, and was denounced by his enemies
as guilty of witchcraft. On this charge he was
brought to trial, and defended himself in a speech
three hours in length, which proved so effectual that
he was acquitted. His reputation was greatly aug-
mented by this occurrence. He was one of a deputa-
tion of his countrymen who visited Philadelphia, in
1792, and acted as chief spokesman in their negotia-
tions with the governor.
He had a rooted antipathy to Christianity, which
neither the lapse of time nor the persuasions of the
white men could remove. He always opposed strongly
the intrusion of missionaries among his people. In
1805, a missionary from Massachusetts visited Buf-
falo, and convened a council of the Indians, which
comprised many of the Seneca chiefs and warriors.
His purpose was to inculcate upon the savages the
advantages they would derive from the introduction
of Christianity among them. He delivered a dis-
course, in which he explained his object in calling
them together. He informed them that he was sent
by the great missionary society of Boston to teach
them how to worship the Great Spirit, and not to
defraud them of their lands and property; that there



RED --~~~~. 2S3
was only one true religion in the world, and unless they
embraced it, they could not be happy, and that they
had lived in darkness and error all their lives. He
wished, if the Indians had any objection to his religion,
they would state it. After he had finished, they con-
ferred together, and appointed Red Jacket to give their
answer. He addressed the missionary in a speech
which we shall quote entire. It exhibits genuine
Indian shrewdness, and considerable force of argument.
“Friend and brother; it was the will of the Great
Spirit that we should meet together this day. He
orders all things, and he has given us a fine day for
our council. He has taken his garment from before
the sun, and caused it to shine with brightness upon
us; our eyes are opened, that we see clearly; our
ears are unstopped, that we have been able to hear
distinctly the words that you have spoken; for all
these favors we thank the Great Spirit, and him only.
“Brother, this council fire was kindled by you; it
was at your request that we came together at this
time; we have listened with attention to what you
have said. You requested us to speak our minds
freely; this gives us great joy, for we now consider
that we stand upright before you, and can speak what
we think; all have heard your voice, and all speak
to you as one man; our minds are agreed.
“Brother, you say you want an answer to your talk
before you leave this place. It is right you should
have one, as you are a great distance from home, and
we do not wish to detain you; but we will first look
back a little, and tell you what our fathers have told
us, and what we have heard from the white people.


284 RED Jacket.
“Brother, listen to what we say. There was a
time when our forefathers owned this great island.*
Their seats extended from the rising to the setting
sun. The Great Spirit had made it for the use of
Indians. He had created the buffalo, the deer, and
other animals for food. He made the bear and the
beaver, and their skins served us for clothing. He
had scattered them over the country, and taught us
how to take them. He had caused the earth to pro-
duce corn for bread. All this he had done for his red
children because he loved them. If we had any dis-
putes about hunting grounds, they were generally
settled without the shedding of much blood. But an
evil day came upon us; your forefathers crossed the
great waters, and landed on this island. Their num-
bers were small; they found friends, and not enemies;
they told us they had fled from their own country for
fear of wicked men, and come here to enjoy their
religion. They asked for a small seat; we took pity
on them, granted their request, and they sat down
amongst us; we gave them corn and meat; they gave
us poison in return. The white people had now
found our country; tidings were carried back, and
more came amongst us; yet we did not fear them, we
took them to be friends; they called us brothers; we
believed them, and gave them a larger seat. At
length, their numbers had greatly increased; they
wanted more land; they wanted our country. Our
eyes were opened, and our minds became uneasy.
Wars took place; Indians were hired to fight against
- An opinion prevails among the Indians that this country
is an island.


RED JACKET. 2S5
Indians, and many of our people were destroyed.
They also brought strong liquor among us; it was
strong and powerful, and has slain thousands.
“Brother, our seats were once large, and yours
were very small; you have now become a great peo-
ple, and we have scarcely a place left to spread our
blankets; you have got our country, but are not satis-
fied; you want to force your religion upon us.
“Brother, continue to listen. You say you are
sent to instruct us how to worship the Great Spirit
agreeably to his mind, and if we do not take hold of
the religion which you white people teach, we shall
be unhappy hereafter. You say that you are right,
and we are lost; how do we know this to be true?
We understand that your religion is written in a
book; if it was intended for us as well as you, why
has not the Great Spirit given it to us, and not only
to us, but why did he not give to our forefathers the
knowledge of that book, with the means of under-
standing it rightly? We only know what you tell
us about it. How shall we know when to believe,
being so often deceived by the white people?
“Brother, you say there is but one way to worship
and serve the Great Spirit; if there is but one reli-
gion, why do you white people differ so much about
it? Why not all agree, as you can all read the book?
“Brother, we do not understand these things. We
are told that your religion was given to your fore-
fathers, and has been handed down from father to son.
We also have a religion which was given to our fore-
fathers, and has been handed down to us their
children. We worship that way. It teacheth us to
2S6 RED Jacket.
be thankful for all the favors we receive; to love each
other, and to be united. We never quarrel about
religion.
“Brother, the Great Spirit has made us all; but
he has made a great difference between his white
and red children; he has given us a different com-
plexion, and different customs; to you he has given
the arts; to these he has not opened our eyes; we
know these things to be true. Since he has made so
great a difference between us in other things, why
may we not conclude that he has given us a different
religion according to our understanding. The Great
Spirit does right; he knows what is best for his
children; we are satisfied.
“Brother, we do not wish to destroy your religion,
or take it from you; we only want to enjoy our own.
“Brother, you say you have not come to get our
land or our money, but to enlighten our minds. I
will now tell you that I have been at your meetings,
and saw you collecting money from the meeting. I
cannot tell what this money was intended for, but
suppose it was for your minister; and if we should
conform to your way of thinking, perhaps you may
want some from us.
“Brother, we are told that you have been preach-
ing to the white people in this place. These people
are our neighbors; we are acquainted with them; we
will wait a little while and see what effect your
preaching has upon them. If we find it does them
good, makes them honest and less disposed to cheat
Indians, we will then consider again what you have
said.


I-I-D. J.----T- 2S7
“Brother, you have now heard our answer to your
talk, and this is all we have to say at present. As
we are going to part, we will come and take you by
the hand, and hope the Great Spirit will protect you
on your journey, and return you safe to your friends.”
The Senecas took part with the United States in
the war of 1812. The practice of employing the
savages in hostilities had always been condemned by
the people of this country, but as the British govern-
ment had set the example, and strengthened their
armies materially by Indian auxiliaries, it began to
be questioned whether such a system ought not to
be turned against them. Grand Island, in the river
Niagara, belonged to the Senecas, and when the
British threatened to invade it, the Indians deter-
mined to take up arms in its defence. They were
accordingly permitted to join the American forces on
the Niagara frontier. Red Jacket was one of their
leaders, and distinguished himself in an action near
Fort George, on the 17th of August, 1813, in which
the British and their Indian allies were defeated.
The prisoners were all treated with humanity; nor
was any excess committed by the savages on the
American side during the war.
After the peace, Red Jacket professed to feel himself
much annoyed by the attempts of missionaries to
establish themselves among his people. In 1821, he
made a formal complaint against them to the gov-
ernor of New York, in a letter dictated by himself,
which we have not space to copy. About the same
time, a squaw of the Senecas was put to death on the
accusation of witchcraft. The Americans took the


28S RED Jacket.
matter in hand, and put the executioner on trial.
Red Jacket and other witnesses testified that the
woman was a witch, and had been legally tried and
executed. The doctrine of witchcraft was ridiculed
by the Americans; to which he made a reply, remind-
ing them,-if we may take his recorded speech as
genuine—of the transactions at Salem. Before he
was admitted to give evidence at the trial, he was
questioned whether he believed in the existence of a
God, and a future state of rewards and punishments.
He replied, with stern indignation, “Yes! much more
than the white men, if we are to judge by their
actions.” The trial was carried through three terms,
and the prisoner was finally acquitted.
Red Jacket continued to enjoy great distinction to
the day of his death. His residence was a log cabin,
situated in a lonely spot near Buffalo. Scarcely a
traveller passed that way without calling to visit a
chief so celebrated for his wisdom and eloquence.
He understood English well, yet refused constantly
to converse in it, and would not even reply to a
speech till it had been translated into his own
language by an interpreter. This rigid adherence to
an ancient formality, reminds us of the practice of
the English sovereigns, who continue to sanction or
reject acts of parliament in the language of William
the conqueror. Red Jacket died on the 20th of
January, 1830.




SHON GM UN E CUT H E ;
or,
T H E L ETA. N.
The original name of this famous chieftain was
Shong-mun-e-cuth-e, or the Prairie Wolf. The title
of the Ietan, by which he is chiefly known to the
whites, was given for exploits which will be detailed
in the course of our narrative. His father was named
Big Horse, and he had several brothers, two of
whom, Blue Eyes and Lodge Pole, became celebrated
warriors.
The tribe of which he was a native, consists of the
remnants of the Ottoes and Missouries, once numer-
ous and warlike tribes, which roamed over the bound-
less west; but they are now so greatly reduced that
the whole number of warriors, in both tribes, does not
exceed two hundred. Being united by the closest
friendship, they have cast their lots in union and act
together as one people; and, small as is their aggre-
gate, they have sustained themselves with such uni-
form bravery and good conduct as to command the
respect of the tribes around them. They are more
indebted to Ietan than to any other individual for
the high reputation they have maintained, as he was
not only one of the boldest of their warriors, but he
was distinguished for his knowledge and wisdom in


peace. The tribe lives near the La Platte, thirty miles
-
290 sHoxGMUNECUTHE, on the metan.
--
southwest of Council Bluffs. They have two mud
villages, where they plant corn and pumpkins, which
they leave to grow during the summer, while they go
to the prairies, to hunt the buffaloes. At this period,
they live in tents made of their buffalorobes. Upon
their return they gather their harvest, and spend the
winter in their wigwams.
When Colonel Long's party were encamped on the
Upper Missouri, in 1819, they were visited by a party
of Ottoes, among whom was ſetan, then a young but
distinguished warrior. A grand dance was performed
in honor of the American officers; in the course of
which the leaders of the greatest repute among the
Indians narrated their exploits. In his turn Ietan
stepped forward and struck the flag-staff which had
been erected, and around which the dancers moved.
This ceremony is called striking the post; and such
is the respect paid to it, that whatever is spoken by
the person who strikes, may be relied upon as strictly
true; and, indeed, it could not well be otherwise, for
the speaker is surrounded by rival warriors, who
would not fail to detect, and instantly expose, any
exaggeration by which he should endeavor to swell
his own comparative merits.
In recounting his martial deeds, Ietan said he had
stolen horses seven or eight times from the Kanzas;
he had first struck the bodies of three of that nation,
slain in battle. He had stolen horses from the Ietan
nation, and had struck one of their dead. He
had stolen horses from the Pawnees, and had struck
the body of one Pawnee Loup. He had stolen
horses several times from the Omahas, and once


sºon GMUNECUTHE, on THE LETAN- 201
from the Puncas. He had struck the bodies of two
Sioux. On a war party, in company with the Paw-
nees, he had attacked some Spaniards, and penetrated
into one of their camps. The Spaniards, excepting
a man and a boy, fled, himself being at a distance
before his party; he was shot at and missed by the
man, whom he immediately shot down and struck.
On the occasion above alluded to, we are told, in
the dance Ietan represented one who was in the
habit of stealing horses. He carried a whip in his
hand, as did a considerable number of the Indians,
and around his neck were thrown several leathern
thongs, for bridles and halters, the ends of which
trailed on the ground behind him. After many pre-
paratory manoeuvres, he stooped down, and with his
knife represented the act of cutting the hopples of the
horses; he then rode his tomahawk as children ride
their broomsticks, making such use of his whip as to
indicate the necessity of rapid movement, lest his foes
should overtake him.
While yet young, the Ietan was the leader of a party
of some eightortenwarriors, against a small tribecalled
Ietans—probably a branch of the Snake or Blackfoot
Indians; they surprised a considerable party of the
enemy, and, in the desperate fight which followed,
Ietan killed seven warriors with his own hand. On
returning to his camp, he displayed seven scalps, and
several horses, the trophies of his skill and courage.
From this period, he was ranked as one of the greatest
warriors of his nation, and the name of the Ietan
became his common appellation.
But the qualities of a warrior were not those by
292 sºongMUNEcuttie, on THE LETAN.
which he was most extensively known. The Indians
are by no means insensible to wit, and among them-
selves they frequently take much delight in pleasantry.
But it is not often that a person is found among them,
who is distinguished for a playful fancy. This, how-
ever, was the case with Ieuan. His humor broke
out on all occasions. Wherever he went, he was the
life of the party; and such at last was his established
reputation as a wag, that, whenever he opened his
mouth, the Indians around were prepared to laugh.
On one occasion a great number of warriors had
assembled, to hold a council. They sat around in
silence, no one presuming to speak. Decorum re-
quired, upon such an august occasion, the sages and
warriors, renowned alike for their great virtues and
their famous deeds, being present, that all should pre-
serve the utmostgravity. Ietan was among the num-
ber; and a superficial observer might have fancied, on
looking at his face, that he fully participated in the
solemnity of the scene. A closer critic might have
remarked, asbeneath a mask, aquivering smile around
his lip, indicating some merry thought about to burst
forth upon the assembly. Atlast, preserving his grave
exterior, he made some remark in a low tone, yet so as
to be heard over the whole mass. In an instant the
gravity of the council was disturbed; there was a
general grunt, and then a laugh, which could not be
repressed. Jetan had suggested some idea so humor-
ous, that even the established laws of good society
were set at naught.
An instance of playfulness of fancy is afforded in
the following story. He had been on a visit to Gov-


sºongMUNEcutine, on THE LETAN. 293
ernor Clarke, the intendant of Indian affairs at St.
Louis. As he was returning, he stopped at the little
settlement of Liberty, about halfway to Council Bluffs.
Here he manifested a great desire to see the process
of manufacturing whiskey, which he knew was
carried on there. As the Indians had already made
some attempts to procure this article, in which they
had sacrificed large quantities of their corn, it was
not thought prudent to show so sagacious a person
as Ietan the whole process. He was, therefore,
taken only into the room where the distillation was
taking place. When he saw the coiling pipe, called
the worm, and understood its use and operation, he
remarked playfully-I see now why it is that the
whiskey, when it gets into the head, makes the brain
turn round so; it is because of the trick it gets in
passing through the tube.”
Being once at Council Bluffs, with some of his
Indian friends, he saw some rockets sent into the air
by the soldiers. In talking with his companions
upon the subject, he told them that the Great Spirit
had made the whites superior to the Indians in two
things.-in making fire-water and fire-powder; and in
gratitude for these gifts, they sent up these streams
of fire, so that He might light His pipe.
About the year 1822, Major O'Fallan, who had
been stationed at Council Bluffs, attended a deputation
of chiefs, from several of the tribes, to Washington.
Among them were warriors from the Kanzas, Paw-
nees, Otoes, Gros Ventres, Mandans, Omahas, &c.,
amounting in all to about twenty. Of this party,
Ietan was one. During the expedition, he was con-


2.94 SHONGMUNECUTHE, on THE LETax.
stantly exciting the mirth of his companions by his
wit, and his humorous observations upon what they
---
The chiefs were taken from Washington to Balti-
more, Philadelphia and New York. They took careful
note of everything; they paced the decks of the ships,
and measured the guns of the forts with strings; they
also measured thesize of some of the public buildings.
They attempted to count the people of New York,
and keep the record upon notched sticks.
On their return to their homes, these chiefs, with
the exception of Ietan, gave an account of what they
had seen. In every instance this was received with
incredulity, and, in most cases, the result was fatal to
the character of the chieſs for veracity. It has been
a matter of policy for the leaders of the Indians to
inculcate the belief that they were among the most
sagacious and powerful of the nations of the earth.
It is the pride, the conceit, thus established, that
becomes the source of much of their courage and vigor
of character. Let them become humbled by a knowl-
edge of their comparative ignorance and weakness,
and they would soon sink into listlessness and insig-
nificance.
The fate of the Mandan chief was melancholy
indeed. On his return, he told, without exaggeration,
what he had seen. “The white people,” said he,
“have lodges, some of which are a hundred paces in
length; they have canoes fifty paces in length, and
of sufficient bulk to hold five hundred men. In their
great cities the people are so numerous that you can-
not number them; they seem as countless as the
stars in the sky, or the straws on the prairie.”


sºon GMUNEcurite, on THE LETAN. 295
This announcement, so different from the current
notions of the people at that time, was received with
universal disbelief. Some of them rose up and told
the chief that it could not be true; that he had
sought to deceive them; that he had spoken with a
double tongue. In vain the chief protested that he
spoke the truth; in vain did he appeal to the Great
Spirit, in attestation of his veracity. “You have
spoken with a false tongue!" was the universal cry.
However they may practise every species of deceit
toward their enemies, truth toward each other, is a
cardinal virtue with the Indians. An attempt to
practise a deception upon the tribe, is held to be an
unworthy degradation of the man, and a foul sin
against Heaven. It is considered better that a man
shall die, and put an end to sinning, than to live after
he has defiled himself by falsehood. Proceeding
upon these views, the Mandan savages were called
out for the execution of the chief, whom they had
pronounced a liar. “Sing your death song, for you
must die!" was the universal decree.
Seeing that it was vain to resist, and submitting
to a decision which every Indian considers final, the
chief, in the presence of the assembled tribe, began his
death song. This is a sort of dying confession,
offered to the Great Spirit, but it usually contains
as much of boasting as humility. “I am a great
warrior,” said the chief; “I have stolen many horses;
I have taken many scalps from my enemies; I have
struck many bodies of the dead, in the heat of battle.
I am a great hunter. Who could ride over the
prairie more swiftly than me? Whose arrow was
296 sHong MUNEcutine, on THE LETax.
more true than mine? Who has slain so many buſ-
faloes as I have done? And who was wiser in coun-
cil than the chief of the Mandans? Yet he must die,
for he is condemned by his own people. I have
spoken the truth, yet they say I am a liar. Thou,
Great Spirit of the air—thou knowest all things; and
thou knowest that I spoke truly. Yet I die content,
for my people have so decreed. Great Father of the
Indian family, smile upon me in the far land of spirits.
Let me dwell forever in the rich prairie, far from the
Black Feet, and the Snakes, and the Pawnees; let me
feast upon the fattest of buffaloes; let there be no
enemy to disturb my feast, or to break my slumbers;
no prickly pear to wound my feet. Let me be sur-
rounded by willing squaws, who will arrangemy tent,
and provide my moccasins, and dress my food.”
Having sung his death song, of which this is but
an imaginary sketch—the chief declared that he was
ready to die. Several of the Indians had their rifles
prepared; they fired, and he fell dead upon the
earth. Thus it seems that, among savages, as among
civilized men, ignorance is ever bigoted; that it is an
offence to know more than the mass; and to announce
truth that conflicts with the established creed of
society, leads to condemnation. Galileo was perse-
cuted for declaring that the earth had a revolving
motion; and the Mandan chief was shot for assert-
ing that the whites possessed ships one hundred and
fifty feet in length!
The fate of the Great Bear, a chief of the Pawnees,
who had accompanied the party to Washington, and
who indiscreetly disclosed the truth on his return,


sºongMUNE cuttle, on THE LEtax. 297
was hardly less severe. He was degraded from his
rank as a warrior, and made to hold a station among
the squaws—a mark of the utmost reprobation. One
of our officers, belonging to the station at Council
Bluffs, happening to be at the Pawnee village, saw the
Great Bear in his state of humiliation. He was
covered with filth; his neglected beard was grown
long upon his face, and his head was covered with
ashes. When the warriors assembled in council, he
took his place without the circle of chiefs, among
the boys.
Ietan was present on this occasion. During the
session of the council, the Great Bear left the boys,
and, after a short space, he returned in the full dress
of a warrior. He was a man of noble form, and now,
in his war gear, had an imposing appearance. He
wore around his neck the medals he had received at
Washington, and held in his hand a roll, consisting
of several certificates he had received from different
Indian agents of the U. States. He proceeded with a
lofty air to the centre of the council, and casta haughty
look upon the grave circle of smoking warriors and
sages. He then began an address, in which he set
forth his deeds as a hunter and a warrior. He
appealed to the assembled chiefs, in attestation of the
truth of what he said. “But I am now degraded,”
said he, “to the level of a squaw; the Great Bear,
the renowned warrior, the fear of his enemies, and
the pride of the Pawnees, is now an object of con-
tempt. In the assembly of the chiefs, I am obliged
to take my place in the outer circle, with the boys'
And why is this? Because I told my people what I
298 sHoNGMUNECUTHE, on THE LETAN.
had seen in the land of the white men. In vain have
I declared my veracity; in vain have I appealed to
the Great Spirit, to attest my innocence. But there
is now here a great warrior and a great chief of the
Otoes. Who has not heard of Shongmunecuthe, the
Ietan? He is here. I appeal to him. He was with
me in the cities of the white men. He can tell you
whether I spoke with a false tongue. Speak, Shong-
munecuthel I told my people that the white men
had canoes fifty paces in length, and that some of
their lodges were two hundred paces in length. I
said that the white men were numerous as the stars.
Say, chief of the Otoes, is the Great Bear a liar?”
The scene produced a strong excitement. Every
eye was bent upon letan, who now arose, and replied
to the appeal thus made. But it seems that gener-
osity was not among the virtues of the Prairie Wolf.
He knew the Indian character well, and he had been
careful not to jeopard his reputation by telling the
Indians what they would not readily believe. In
speaking of what he had seen among the white people,
he had always used general terms. He now replied
in the same manner. “The whites,” said he, “ have
some pretty large lodges, and large canoes, and their
people are numerous.” The effect of his speech was
unfavorable to the Great Bear. The cautious manner
in which the renowned Ietan had spoken, satisfied the
assembly that the Pawnee chief had been guilty of
misrepresentation. The latter saw the effect pro-
duced, and, with a dejected air, he retired from the
council. Thus it appears, that, by his sagacity, Ietan
preserved his character and standing with the Indians;

sºon GMUNEcurite, on THE LET.A.N. 2.99
knowing their prejudices, he took care not to shock
them by his statements, which would only prove inju-
rious to himself; while the less prudent chieſs fell
victims to their frankness. -
An extraordinary evidence of the confidence reposed
in him by his tribe, was afforded a few years before
Ietan's death. Some of the white traders came to the
village of the Otoes, and, in order to bribe the chiefs
to use their influence with the Indians to part with
their furs on easy terms, presented them with a keg
of whiskey. They therefore prepared for a debauch
—a business upon which they usually enter with
due calculation. The women, foreseeing what would
follow, took care to put the knives and other weapons
of the savages beyond their reach.
In the height of their revel, Ietan and his brother,
Lodge Pole, fell into a dispute, which ended in a
quarrel. They grappled, and Ietan was thrown to the
ground. During the violent scuffle which ensued,
Lodge Polebit off his brother's nose. Both parties
were too much intoxicated to notice what had hap-
pened, but the next day, when Ietan came to his
senses, and discovered the mutilation, he seized his
rifle, went straight to his brother's lodge, and shot
him dead. Knowing that he had forfeited his life, he
left the village and proceeded to Council Bluffs. He
was well known by the officers, who sought in vain
to comfort him. He cared little, indeed, for his brother's
death, or his own exile; but he seemed to feel a
peculiar degree of humiliation on account of the
wound upon his nose. He was not a little relieved
when the surgeon ſound means to patch it up, assur-
ing him that the scar would be scarcely visible.



300 sHoNGMUNEcurite, on the metan.
The chief had been absent but a few days, when a
“crying deputation,” as it is called, came from the
tribe, beseeching Ietan to return. It consisted of the
principal men of the tribe; they were loaded with
presents of horses, cloths and furs; and as they came
into the presence of their chief, they wept aloud, in
token of their sorrow. Ietan promised to take the
subject into consideration. This he did, and, after a
few weeks, he returned. He was received with joy
by the people; his crime was overlooked; and from
that time he was the war-chief of the tribe.
He continued to be their leader for a number of
years; his reputation, not only as awarrior, but as a man
of great sagacity and wisdom, was greatly extended,
and he was regarded as one of the great men of the
day. His fame for wit was spread far and wide, and
his society was much soughton account of his powers
of amusement. The white people were accustomed
to call him the Indian Vºltaire.
The death of this renowned chief was inglorious.
During his absence, about the year 1834, one of his
young wives, being smitten with affection for one of
the youthful dandies of the tribe, forgot her duty and
went to live with her new lover. When Ietan was
about to return, the young Indian began to dread the
wrath of the chief. Accordingly, being joined by
five or six of his companions, he fled to the woods.
Ietan returned, and learning what had happened, pur-
sued the seducer and his party. They lay in ambush,
and as the chief approached they rose and fired a
volley upon him. Though desperately wounded, he
sprung upon them like a tiger, and slew two of them

sHong MUNEcurite, on THE LETAN. 301
with his own hand. In the midst of the conflict, he
received a ball in his breast, and fell shouting in tri-
umph for the vengeance he had inflicted upon his
enemy.

1-----------




BLACK HAWK.
In 1832 and 1833, the western frontier of the
United States again experienced the ravages of an
Indian war. The principal leader of the savages
was Black Hawk, a chief of the united tribes of Sacs
and Foxes, occupying the territory between the
Illinois and Mississippi rivers. He had been con-
cerned in marauding expeditions against the settle-
ments at an early period, but his hostile temper was
strongly excited by a treaty made with the Sacs and
Foxes, in 1830, by which those tribes sold their lands
to the United States, and agreed to remove to the
west of the Mississippi. A chief named Keokuk was
the principal Indian negotiator in this business, to
which Black Hawk was not a party. When he
learnt what had taken place, he testified the greatest
indignation, and, finding a considerable number
among the Indians who were dissatisfied with the
treaty, he offered to place himself at their head and
raise the standard of opposition to Keokuk. The quiet
of the frontier was soon disturbed by irregular pro-
ceedings, but it appears that, in the first act of vio-
lence, the whites were the aggressors. The abundant
facilities for a border feud may be understood from
the history of the first irregular proceeding in this
case. One of the Indians found a bee-hive in a hol-
low tree, and carried it to his wigwam. The hive
was claimed by some of the whites, and given up;
304 LLacº. Lawr.
but these men, not content with reclaiming what
might or might not have been their property, thought
proper to indemnify themselves for their trouble by
plundering the Indian's wigwam of all the skins he
had obtained by his winter's hunt. None of the
savages could understand such justice, and it is not
surprising that this, and sundry other irregular pro-
ceedings, soon excited ill-blood between the whites
and the red men.
Black Hawk now resolved upon open war. He
was particularly bent on maintaining possession of
the Sac village, situated upon a point of land at the
confluence of the Mississippi and Rock rivers. It
was an old residence of the tribe, having been occu-
pied by them above a century and a half. Here were
beautiful cornfields and the ancient cemeteries of
their kindred. But as this spot was comprised within
the limits of the ceded territory, the Americans
demanded the evacuation of the village, according to
the stipulations of the treaty. Black Hawk succeeded
in convincing Keokuk of the impolicy or illegality of
the cession which he had made, and the latter prom-
ised to open a negotiation with the Americans, and
get the village restored. With this expectation, the
Indians still kept possession of it, till the autumn of
1830, when they went abroad as usual, on their win-
ter's hunt. The whites, in their absence, occupied
the village, and when the Indians returned, they found
their wigwams filled with intruders.
The high spirit of the savage could not endure this.
The chiefs of the tribes resolved to drive out the new
comers by force; and proceeded to execute their



BL-C-11-wº- 305
design. The whites, who were not in sufficient force
to oppose them, offered to compromise matters by
living in company with the tribe. This was agreed
to; but the whites, as might be expected, took the
advantage of their associates, and appropriated to
themselves all the best planting lands. Other impo-
sitions were practised upon the Sacs, and at length
they were ordered to quit the village. Many of them
complied, but Black Hawk and his party refused. In
the spring of 1831, the emigrant Indians returned,
and again took possession. The resolution of the
Indians to maintain themselves on the spot being now
evident, the white intruders began to make public
complaints of the “encroachments of the Indians.”
Moved by these clamors, Reynolds, the governor of
Illinois, took the extraordinary measure of declaring
the state invaded by foreign enemies, and ordered out
seven hundred militia for the public defence. These
forces were directed to remove the Indians, dead or
alive, across the Mississippi. General Gaines, the
commander of the United States' troops in that quar-
ter, being apprehensive that these rash and precipitate
movements might provoke the Indians to hostilities,
proceeded to Rock river, to mediate between the two
parties. The Illinois militia had not arrived, and he
succeeded in persuading about a third of the Indians
to remove immediately. The remainder refused to
leave the place; and the women implored their hus-
bands to fight rather than abandon their homes.
Gaines held a council with Black Hawk on the 7th
of June. The savage chief came, at the head of his
band of warriors, armed and painted as if for battle.
-

306 BLACK HA wº.
He declared to the general that he would not remove,
and that he was not afraid of the Americans. Not-
withstanding these boasts, as soon as the militia
arrived on the 25th, the Indians abandoned the place
without firing a gun. Two days after, Black Hawk
made his appearance again, with a white flag, and
demanded a parley. After a few days' negotiation, a
treaty was agreed upon, and the Indians relinquished
their claim to the territory.
This pacification, however, was not of long continu-
ance. The Indians still retained the feelings of
exasperation caused by the harsh treatment which
they had received, and their unfriendly temper was
increased by the imperfect fulfilment of the treaty by
the Americans. They had been promised a liberal
supply of corn as an indemnity for the crops which
they had been forced to abandon. But the quantity
they received was far from sufficient to support them,
and a party of the Sacs found themselves obliged, as
one of their chiefs said, to cross the river and “steal
the corn from their own fields.” New complaints
now arose on both sides; the Indians gathered
strength on the west bank of the Mississippi, and
Black Hawk resolved on commencing a predatory
war on the frontier settlements. This measure was
precipitated by the hostilities which had existed
between his own people and the Menominies and
Sioux. These hostilities had been allayed for a
time by the intervention of the whites; but, in 1831,
a band of Sioux, who were encamped in the neigh-
borhood of the American fort at Prairie du Chien,
were attacked by Black Hawk's men, and twenty-

--~~ 11- 307
eight of their number were killed. The Americans
demanded that the murderers should be given up, but
Black Hawk refused, alleging that it was an affair
between two Indian tribes, who were independent of
the authority of the United States. The act, how-
ever, was committed on the United States' territory,
and the murdered men were at that time under the
protection of the American government.
Early in the spring of 1832, Black Hawk had col-
lected a force of Sacs, Foxes and Winnebagoes,
amounting to about a thousand men. At the head
of this army he crossed the Mississippi and com-
menced a hostile invasion of the United States. The
frontier inhabitants, alarmed at the approach of this
powerful force, abandoned their farms and remote
settlements. The governor of Illinois ordered out a
brigade of militia. General Atkinson, the com-
mander of the United States' troops on that frontier,
marched toward the scene of hostilities about the
middle of June. The regular troops and militia
amounted to three thousand four hundred men.
Black Hawk knew that he was unable to resistso strong
a force, and withdrew from the open country into the
swamps, from whence he sent out marauding parties
against the unprotected settlements. In this manner
heravaged the mining districts of Michigan, and mur-
dered a number of defenceless families. These
transactions, and the defeat of a party of two hundred
and seventy Americans, who were attacked and dis-
persed by Black Hawk, at Sycamore Creek, spread the
greatest alarm throughout the country. More troops
were ordered from the sea-coast and other quarters.

30S I-Lac-L-
Five companies of artillery made a rapid march of
eighteen days from Fortress Monroe, on the Chesa-
peake, to Chicago, on Lake Michigan, but were
unfortunately attacked by the cholera on the route,
and the whole rendered unfit for service before they
reached the seat of war.
General Scott, who was advancing with the rein-
forcements to take the command, found it impossible
to join Atkinson with his forces in season to cooperate
with him. He, therefore, directed him to pursue the
campaign without waiting for his arrival. Atkinson
scoured the country and attempted to drive the
Indians out of their lurking places. Black Hawk,
finding himself closely pressed on all sides, began to
retreat. He abandoned a camp which he had formed
at the Four Lakes, and moved toward the Mississippi.
He took the route of the Wisconsin, having been
assured that the tribes in that quarter would join his
party, and that he should meet with plentiful supplies
of provisions. In both of these expectations he was
disappointed. No allies joined him, provisions were
not to be procured, and he received advices that the
American army was in close pursuit of him. About
forty miles from Fort Winnebago, as he was about to
cross the Wisconsin, on the 21st of July, he was
attacked by an advanced body of the Americans,
under General Dodge. The attack began about sun-
set. The Indians were defeated, but, under cover of
the night, they escaped across the river. The Amer-
icans had no boats nor canoes, and, being fatigued by
the day's march, could not pursue them.
Black Hawk was now bent solely on the means of

ºl-cº. 11-wº- 309
escape. On the 1st of August, as he was attempt-
ing to cross the Mississippi, he was interrupted by an
armed steamboat. Whether he judged his case to be
so desperate that he had no course left but to surren-
der, or whether he designed to practise a stratagem is
uncertain. He displayed two white flags, and sent
one hundred and fifty of his men down to the shore,
making signs of submission. The Americans, sus-
pecting this to be only a decoy, ordered them to send
one of their canoes on board. This they declined
doing, on which a fire was opened upon them from a
six-pounder, together with a volley of musketry.
Above twenty of the Indians were killed, and the
action continued till night, with no loss to the Amer-
icans, except one man wounded. The next day
Atkinson's army arrived, and the conflict was recom-
menced. After three hours' action, the Indians were
totally defeated; great numbers of them were driven
into the Mississippi, where they were drowned or
despatched by the American sharp-shooters. Above
fifty women and children were captured. Black
Hawk, in the heat of the action, stole away, leaving
all his baggage behind him, among which were found
certificates, signed by British officers, testifying to his
good character, and the services he had rendered by
his bravery in fighting against the Americans during
the war of 1812.
After the battle, Atkinson ordered Keokuk to send
out some of his men and demand the surrender of the
chiefs who had escaped, and particularly Black Hawk,
whom it was desirable to take, alive or dead. This
chief, in the mean time, had fled, with a small party, to

310 al-acº HA-
the Winnebago village at Prairie la Cross. He now
despaired of eluding the vigilance of his pursuers, and
told the Winnebago chiefs that he wished to surren-
der himself to the whites, and that they might put
him to death if they pleased. The warriors, accord-
ingly, took him into their custody. The Winnebago
women, by general subscription, gave him a suit of
clothes made of white tanned deer-skin, as a testi-
monial of their esteem for his gallantry. Two of the
Winnebago chiefs then accompanied him to the
American post of Prairie du Chien, where, on the 27th
of August, he was delivered into the hands of Gen-
eral Street. Black Hawk addressed the general in
the following speech:
“You have taken meprisoner with all my warriors.
I am much grieved, for I expected, if I did not defeat
you, to hold out much longer, and give you more
trouble before I surrendered. I tried hard to bring
you into ambush, but your last general understands
Indian fighting. The first one was not so wise,
When I saw that I could not beat you by Indian
fighting, I determined to rush on you, and fight you
face to face. I fought hard. But your guns were
well aimed. The bullets flew like birds in the air,
and whizzed by our ears like the wind through the
trees in the winter. My warriors fell around me; it
began to look dismal. I saw my evil day at hand.
The sun rose dim on usin the morning, and at night
it sunk in a dark cloud, and looked like a ball of fire.
That was the last sun that shone on Black Hawk.
His heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his
bosom. He is now a prisoner to the white men; they

Tºº-º-º- H----- 3.11
will do with him as they wish. But he can stand
torture, and is not afraid of death. He is no coward.
Black Hawk is an Indian.
“He has done nothing for which an Indian ought
to be ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen,
the squaws and papooses, against white men, who
came, year after year, to cheat them and take away
their lands. You know the cause of our making
war. It is known to all white men. They ought to
be ashamed of it. The white men despise the
Indians, and drive them from their homes. But the
Indians are not deceitful. The white men speak bad
of the Indian, and look at him spitefully. But the
Indian does not tell lies; Indians do not steal.
“An Indian who is as bad as the white men, could
not live in our nation; he would be put to death, and
eat up by the wolves. The white men are bad school-
masters; they carry false looks, and deal in false
actions; they smile in the face of the poor Indian to
cheat him; they shake them by the hand to gain their
confidence, to make them drunk, to deceive them, and
ruin our wives. We told them to let us alone, and
keep away from us; but they followed on and beset
our paths, and they coiled themselves among us like
the snake. They poisoned us by their touch. We
were not safe. We lived in danger. We were
becoming like them, hypocrites and liars, adulterers,
lazy drones, all talkers, and no workers.
“We looked up to the Great Spirit. We went to
our great father. We were encouraged. His great
council gave us fair words and big promises; but we
got no satisfaction. Things were growing worse.
312 LL-Cº. LA-
There were no deer in the forest. The opossum and
beaver were fled; the springs were drying up, and our
squaws and papooses without victuals to keep them
from starving; we called a great council and built a
large fire. The spirit of our fathers arose and spoke
to us to avenge our wrongs or die. We all spoke
before the council fire. It was warm and pleasant.
We set up the war-whoop, and dug up the tomahawk;
our knives were ready, and the heart of Black Hawk
swelled high in his bosom when he led his warriors
to battle. He is satisfied. He will go to the world
of spirits contented. He has done his duty. His
father will meet him there, and commend him.
“Black Hawk is a true Indian, and disdains to cry
like a woman. He feels for his wife, his children
and friends. But he does not care for himself. He
cares for his nation and the Indians. They will
suffer. He laments their fate. The white men do
not scalp the head; but they do worse—they poison
the heart; it is not pure with them. His country-
men will not be scalped, but they will, in a few years,
become like the white men, so that you can't trust
them, and there must be, as in the white settlements,
nearly as many officers as men, to take care of them
and keep them in order.
“Farewell, my nation! Black Hawk tried to save
you, and avenge your wrongs. He drank the blood
of some of the whites. He has been taken prisoner,
and his plans are stopped. He can do no more. He
is near his end. His sun is setting, and he will rise
no more. Farewell to Black Hawk.”
The surrender of Black Hawk put an end to the



LLA cn 11-wº- 313
war. During the following month, treaties were
made with the Winnebagoes, Sacs and Foxes, by the
terms of which that chief with his two sons and five
other principal Indians were to remain in the hands
of the Americans, as hostages during the pleasure of
the president. It was thought advisable to conduct
the prisoners on a visit to some of the large cities of
the United States, that they might carry home to their
countrymen such descriptions of the wealth, popula-
tion and military strength of the Americans, as to
convince them of the inexpediency of ever again
taking up arms against them. Accordingly, they
were transported to the east, and, on the 22d of April,
1833, arrived at Washington, where they were
admitted to an interview with President Jackson.
From hence they proceeded to Fortress Monroe, on
the shores of the Chesapeake, where it was intended to
detain them for some time, but early in June they
recommenced their tour. Black Hawk took his
leave of Colonel Eustis, the commander of the fort, in
the following speech:
* Brother, I have come on my own part, and in
behalf of my companions, to bid you farewell. Our
great father has at length been pleased to permit us
to return to our hunting-grounds. We have buried
the tomahawk, and the sound of the rifle will here-
after only bring death to the deer and the buffalo.
Brother, you have treated the red men very kindly.
Your squaws have made them presents, and you have
given them plenty to eat and drink. The memory of
your friendship will remain till the Great Spirit says
it is time for Black Hawk to sing his death song.

314 LL-cº Ha-1-
Brother, your houses are as numerous as the leaves
upon the trees; and your young warriors are like the
sands upon the shore of the big lake which rolls
before us. The red man has but few houses and few
warriors, but the red man has a heart which throbs
as warmly as the heart of his white brother. The
Great Spirit has given us our hunting-grounds, and
the skin of the deer, which we kill there, is his
favorite, for its color is white, and this is the emblem
of peace. This hunting-dress and these feathers of
the eagle are white. Accept these, my brother. I
have given one like this to the White Otter. Accept
it as a memorial of Black Hawk. When he is far
away, this will serve to remind you of him. May
the Great Spirit bless you and your children. Fare-
well.”
They were then carried to Norfolk, Baltimore,
Philadelphia and New York, where they were grati-
fied and amazed at the sight of the immense crowds
of spectators who flocked from all quarters to obtain
a view of them. The prospect of the navy yards,
arsenals and ships of war, caused them, as was
expected, to feel the weakness and insignificance of
their own nation in comparison with the American.
Black Hawk exclaimed, “I once thought I could con-
quer the whites; my heart grew bitter, and my hands
strong. I dug up the tomahawk, and led my warriors
on to fight. But the white men were mighty. I and
my people failed. I see the strength of the white
men. I will be the white man's friend. I will go to
my people and speak good of the white men. I
will tell them that they are like the leaves of the
LLA cn Hawk. 315
forest,-very many—very strong—and that I will
fight no more against them.”
From New York they returned, by the way of
Albany and the lakes, to the Upper Mississippi,
where they were set at liberty. Black Hawk had
little opportunity, after this period, to signalize him-
self by any martial deeds. By the invitation of the
government of the United States, he again, in 1837,
visited the Atlantic states, in company with many of
the chiefs of different tribes. They proceeded as far
as Boston, and were received with public ceremonies
in every quarter. The remainder of the life of Black
Hawk offers nothing particularly worthy of being
recorded. He died at his residence on the Des
Moines, on the 3d of October, 1838.
The character of Black Hawk is not marked by
any very striking or peculiar qualities to distinguish
him among the multitude of savage leaders. The
reputation which he enjoyed during his life-time, has
brought him under our notice in this work, rather
than the talents which he exhibited in war or council.
His name was once the terror of the western frontier,
but his military exploits fade into insignificance when
compared with those of Philip, Pontiac, Brant and
Tecumseh.

A582102
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