Part 17

So near, indeed, had this British Governor been to the Virginians at Point Pleasant, during the battle, that his men could easily hear the sound of fighting when they placed their ears to the ground. He had advanced from Pittsburg with a strong force and could certainly have fallen upon the rear of the Indians had he so wished, but, as he did not hurry his course, it is evident that he had no intention of co-operating with the troops of General Lewis, as he had proposed to do. Some have contended that he wished to sacrifice the Virginians so as to defeat the savages himself, and secure reputation for great prowess. This is an absurd contention, for he would speedily have been denounced as a treacherous dog and would have suffered death from his own men. Others have stated that he felt that the Indians' cause was a just one, that he knew that the Virginians were soon going to rebel against England, and thus he wished to bring peace with as little destruction of life as possible. It is probable that he was anxious to keep the good will of the Indians, with a view of gaining them as allies to the mother country later on. In fact, after the American Revolution broke out, he sent emissaries to these very savages, asking their assistance against the people of Virginia, so his lack of aggression in advancing to the aid of General Lewis is, therefore, partly explained. We must remember that he was an Englishman, was patriotic, and wished to do nothing that would hurt the interests of the mother country.

The troops under Lord Dunmore, numbering as many as those of General Lewis, passed through the Blue Range at Potomac Gap, and crossed into Ohio near Wheeling, West Virginia. As the British advanced into the Indian country, scouts came in from the Senecas and Delawares, and, on October sixth, Lord Dunmore had a conference with them, offering terms of peace. The savages carried his words back to the retreating warriors who had fought at Point Pleasant, as Lord Dunmore's army pushed on to the left bank of Sippo Creek, Ohio. Here the soldiers soon made a fortified camp, called Camp Charlotte, and waited for emissaries from the warlike Indians. A messenger was also sent to intercept the march of General Lewis, telling him not to fight again, until his commanding officer--Lord Dunmore--had had a conference with the red men, but, smarting from the loss of his brother, and fired with the zeal for a signal victory, Lewis felt little desire to heed the command of the Governor, and pressed on to Congo Creek, which was within striking distance of the Indian towns near Chillicothe, Ohio. Again Dunmore sent him a command not to attack the Indians, and, seeing that the Rangers were bent upon further bloodshed, he went in person to find the Virginian leader. Drawing his sword when he met him, he said: "Sir, if you persist in your obstinacy in disobeying my commands, I shall run you through with this weapon. I am your commanding officer, sir." "I will retire," answered Lewis, "but your conduct, sir, is cowardly and treacherous to the interests of Virginia."

The Indians were now thoroughly cowed by the show of force which the whites presented and were, therefore, contemplating peace. At a conference at their chief town, Cornstalk arose and upbraided them because they had not listened to his and Logan's suggestions for peace before the bloody battle of Point Pleasant. "What will you do now?" said he. "The Big Knife is coming on us, and we shall all be killed. Now you must fight or we are undone." He paused for a reply, and then added, "Now let us kill all our women and children and go out and fight the palefaces until we die?" Still there was no answer to this brave proposal. So, rising from the seat upon the ground, the Great Chief struck his tomahawk into a post of the council house with a sharp, resounding blow, exclaiming, "I will then go and make peace." "Ough! Ough!" came from all sides. "Go and make peace." So the noted warrior hastened to Dunmore's camp to settle the difficulties between them immediately.

Logan was not with him; in fact, he had taken no part in these councils, but had remained alone in the Mingo village, brooding over the wrongs, and upon the cruel vengeance which he had taken upon the whites for the murder of his relatives. "He is like an angry dog," said a Delaware warrior. "His bristles are all up, but they are gradually falling." When urged to attend the peace conference, he muttered: "I am a warrior and not a counsellor. I will not come to the meeting, for my people have not followed my advice."

At the conference at Camp Charlotte Cornstalk spoke for his red brethren, and he is said to have delivered a great oration, which was quite equal to the speeches of Patrick Henry, the great orator of the Virginia House of Burgesses. "I have heard many orators," said Colonel Wilson of Dunmore's staff, "but none whose power of delivery surpassed that of Cornstalk on this occasion. His looks when addressing Dunmore were truly grand and majestic, yet peaceful and attractive. When he arose, he was in no wise confused or daunted, but spoke in a distinct and audible voice, without stammering or repetition, and with peculiar emphasis." Such was the impression which he created that a speedy peace was agreed upon, which was to insure some years of quiet to the frontiers of Virginia and Pennsylvania. The Indians retired to their towns, and the army of invasion made preparations for returning to the settlements of tide-water Virginia.

Although Logan had refused to attend the conference, Lord Dunmore considered it most important to learn what were his future intentions towards the whites, as he was a renowned chieftain and had quite a following. He could, in fact, easily stir up another rebellion, should he so wish, and thus it would be of considerable value to the whites to obtain from him a statement to the effect that he would keep the peace in future. Therefore, a messenger named John Gibson was sent to the Mingo camp in order to interview the savage warrior and persuade him to sign the peace pact. Gibson was a frontier veteran who had lived for a long time near the Indians and knew their manners, customs, and language as well as that of his own race. And he proved to be an excellent emissary, for Logan talked freely to the sturdy backwoodsman. For some time they discussed the war and its outcome, and then, weeping bitterly, the Mingo Chieftain made a speech which will always live as one of the finest examples of Indian eloquence recorded in the history of the conquest of America by the whites. Gibson took the words of Logan down in writing, bade the sad old warrior farewell, and, turning towards the English camp, soon had presented the answer of the noble red man to Lord Dunmore. The Governor read it in council before the entire frontier army, among whom were Clark and Cresap, the two backwoods soldiers to whom Logan ascribed the murder of his family.

"I appeal to the white man to say if he ever entered Logan's cabin hungry and he gave him no meat; if ever he came cold and naked and he clothed him not?" were the words of Logan. "During the course of the last long and bloody war (the French and Indian War, and the Conspiracy of Pontiac) Logan remained idle in his camp, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites that my countrymen pointed as I passed, and said: 'Logan is the friend of the 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 mine 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."

To the sad and sober thoughts of the Mingo Chief, the frontiersmen listened with respectful attention, and in the hearts of some, no doubt, came feelings of remorse that the lives of his own people had been so cruelly taken. At the conclusion of the reading of this address, Clark turned to Cresap and said: "You must be a very great man that the Indians hold you guilty for every mean thing that has happened." "It was not I who did this deed, but Daniel Greathouse," answered Cresap, "and I have half a mind to put an end to him when next we meet, because of this brutal murder." It would have indeed been well if someone would have made the guilty frontiersman suffer for this cruel deed, which had wrecked the life and hopes of an Indian Chief, who, at heart, was a friend of the pioneers, and not an enemy. The triumph of the Anglo-Saxons had dealt a heavy blow to the one red man of friendly intentions who resided in the country of the Ohio.

The troops under Lord Dunmore soon returned to Virginia, and, at the outbreak of the American Revolution, took part in many of the engagements of the first year of warfare. Proud, gloomy Logan never recovered from the grief which the loss of his family had inspired. His life was spent among his own people, and frequently he was engaged in the various skirmishes and uprisings of the border. We know that he became intemperate, and, like so many other red men of noble qualities, became a victim of drink--a habit which lowered him in the estimation of both the whites and those of his own race. At last, when returning from Detroit to his own country, after assisting in making a treaty of peace, he was murdered by a party of whites, but the details of his death are not known.

Thus perished one of the few redskins who, at heart, was friendly to those of a different color. One can forgive his fierce outburst of passion against the whites, for who of us would not have been constrained to do likewise, after the murder of our entire family, and in cold blood? His features were noble, his form was majestic, his words bore evidence of a mind in which only the loftiest thoughts resided. His speech to the emissary of Lord Dunmore has been favorably compared with the best efforts of Demosthenes and Cicero, the great orators of Greece and Rome, and the annals of Indian warfare have never brought to light a character of similar grandeur and majesty of disposition. The muse of history smiles brightly upon the spirit of Logan: the Friend of the White Man, the Great Chieftain of the Mingoes.

RED JACKET, OR SA-GO-YE-WAT-HA: THE GREAT ORATOR OF THE SENECAS

A little schooner was about to be launched in a port of the eastern seaboard of the United States, and crowds of people gathered around to see the vessel take to the water. It was an event of more than usual interest, for a tall Indian chief of majestic bearing stood at the prow in order to speak a word of parting to the new-made hull. He placed one hand upon the planking, and, turning to the expectant onlookers, spoke with great feeling.

"You have a great name given to you," he said, pointing to the ship. "Your name is Red Jacket. Strive to deserve this name. Be brave and daring. Go boldly into the troublesome waters of the great sea and fear neither the swift wind nor the strong waves. Be not frightened nor overcome by them, for it is in resisting storms and tempests that I, whose name you bear, obtained my renown. Let my great example inspire you to courage and lead you to glory. Strike, you men! Break the underpinning from this favored vessel and let us see it plough into the surging ocean!" As he ceased, the stanchions which held the schooner were knocked away, and proudly and serenely she dipped into the waters of the blue Atlantic.

The great chief who had christened this little vessel was one of the most famous orators who has ever existed among the Indians of America. His birth is supposed to have taken place about the year 1750, under a great tree which formerly stood near the spring of crystal water at Canoga Point, on the western shores of Lake Cayuga, in western New York. His parents were Senecas--a powerful tribe that lived at Can-e-de-sa-ga, at the present site of Geneva, New York, and they were members of the Iroquois confederation of Indian people. His father, although a member of this tribe, was by birth a Cayuga--a thoughtful and far-seeing race, who were the scholars and thinkers of the northern Indians--and, although learned, was not a man of any prominence or distinction. His mother is said to have had white blood in her veins, and so the remarkable ability to express himself in a logical manner may be traced to this taint in the blood of the eloquent Red Jacket, who in infancy was called O-te-tiana, which signifies, "The Always Ready."

Tradition has it that when a young man Red Jacket was remarkably fleet of foot, so fleet, in fact, that he was employed by his people as a "runner" or messenger. But his ambition was to become a great orator and speaker, and thus leaving the active participation in warfare to spirits more bold than his own, he endeavored to become the greatest counsellor among his people. This ability to sway the thoughts and feelings of others made him chief--a position to which he aspired, and of which he was very jealous--and, when he came to this honor, he took another name, according to the custom of his nation. This was the euphonious one of Sa-go-ye-wat-ha, which means "The Keeper Awake."

But how came it that he was called Red Jacket, when these other names were so much more distinguished and musical? This is explained by a chronicler of this period of history, who says: "During the war of the Revolution this Seneca warrior made himself very useful to the British officers as a messenger. He was doubtless of great value to them because of his intelligence and gift for oratory, and, in return for his services, the officers presented the young man with a scarlet jacket, very richly embroidered. He took much delight in this coat of a flaming red, and this peculiar dress became a mark of distinction and gave him the name by which he was afterwards best known. Even after the war, when the Americans wished to particularly ingratiate themselves with him, they would present him with a red jacket. The young Prince of the wolf den would don the bright raiment with a look of immense pride, and he was much admired by his followers as he strutted about attired in this attractive dress." Thus Sa-go-ye-wat-ha became known by the title of Red Jacket, a name which clung to him through life, and by which he has been known to historians.

The predecessor of Red Jacket, as Chief of the Senecas, was a celebrated brave, called Corn Planter by the English, a man well known for his oratorical powers and skill as a warrior. This eminent Chieftain suddenly found that his power over his men was declining, partly owing to the fact that in 1784 he had used his influence in consenting to a cession of Seneca land to the American government at the treaty of Fort Stanwix, and partly owing to the fact that he was growing so old that the young blood of the tribe felt that a young man should lead them. Bitterly chagrined by his loss of popularity, Corn Planter resolved upon a desperate exertion to restore his departing influence, and, with this end in view, determined to practice upon the superstitions of the Indians and rid himself of those chiefs who opposed his rule. So he had his brother declare himself a prophet or Messiah, and, stating that he had come to restore the former prestige of the red men and make them again great, he soon had great influence among the credulous Senecas.

But now the evil designs of Corn Planter came to a head. The Prophet declared that several members of the tribe were wizards or magicians, and among them Red Jacket was named as the chief offender. He was publicly denounced by those influenced by the Prophet, who, at a great Indian council, declared that he should be put to death. At this crisis Red Jacket knew that his safety and life itself depended upon his intellectual powers, and so determined to make use of the greatest oratorical efforts that he was capable of. Appearing before the assembled Indians, he rose majestically before them, and throwing back his blanket said in part:

"Brothers, you accuse me of being a Wizard and Sorcerer. This Prophet, the brother of Corn Planter, has told you that I am a man of evil thoughts and would work you ill. It is an untruth. Never since I was a small boy have I thought evil of any of my own race, and never since I came of age have I ever labored for anything but the good of my people. How can I, who have loved you at a peace all these years, have married among you, have brought up my children among you, how can I, I say, wish ill to the people whom I have starved, slept and feasted with? Brothers, you know that in the treaty at Fort Stanwix I was for war, while Corn Planter was for peace and wished to give over our lands to the whites. You see how you have fared by following his advice. You are now poor, without hunting ground, and the white men have your best lands. Had you stood by me, and had you waged war upon the whites, we would have defeated them, driven them from our borders, and we would now have good grounds to live upon. You see how following this man's advice has served us."

This he continued for three hours, at the end of which time he had fully persuaded the Indians that the Prophet was an imposter and fraud, that Corn Planter should be deposed, and that he himself should be freed from all charges against himself. The savages had all been in favor of his death, but, swayed by this masterful eloquence, a portion of their numbers came to his way of thinking, and when a vote was taken in regard to what disposition should be made of him, their numbers were sufficient to set him free. Corn Planter's influence was at an end, and soon Red Jacket was foremost in the councils of those of his own nationality. The masterful power of oratory had won him the foremost position in his own tribe.

The Indians, in fact, had fared ill for the part that they had taken in the American Revolution, between the American Colonists of New York and the British. Influenced by the Iroquois and their powerful ally, Captain Joseph Brant--the great war chief of the Mohawks--they had thrown in their lot with the English troops. Red Jacket had eloquently plead with his people to remain neutral. "Let these whites fight it out among themselves," he had said, "while we remain upon our own lands and take care of ourselves. What have the English done for us? What will they do for us if they win, but insist upon a division of our land?" He here rose to his fullest height, (for he was in the council chamber) and pointed to the winding current of the Mohawk. "Why should we leave our beautiful country by the shimmering waters of the river which we love, in order to become killed, maimed and homeless for the sake of our white brothers? Why should we give up everything for these men, I say, when we are happy and peaceful here? It is none of our quarrel. Let us rest."

In spite of this appeal his own warriors would not listen to his words of advice and called him a coward, and also the "cow-killer." With smirks and grimaces they would often tell how at the outbreak of the war the young chief had exhorted all about him to be filled with valor and courage, to march forth valiantly towards the enemy, for he, himself, would be there in the thickest of the fighting. Stirred by his address, the warriors were soon engaged in battle, but when they looked for the orator he was missing. In vain they searched for him at the close of hostilities, and, at last, found him cutting up a cow which he had captured near the Indian village. This story was spread broadcast, it caused great amusement, and many a Seneca was heard to say: "Sa-go-ye-wat-ha, he talk much, but he no back up his big words."

At the close of the Revolutionary War, however, these warriors who had previously reviled the sage counsellor of the Senecas wished that they had listened more favorably to his advice. The British army of invasion under Burgoyne which the Senecas and Mohawks allied themselves with, was badly whipped at Saratoga, and those who were not captured fled to Canada. The country came into the possession of the American troops; the Mohawks emigrated to Canadian soil, where they were given no aid by the English, and the Senecas were treated in a high-handed manner by the victorious sons of New England. Many of the members of this powerful tribe perished in the battles around Saratoga, and, as they were fighting for a cause which they did not understand, it soon became apparent to them that they should have followed the advice of the great orator. Too late they realized that the old adage was true, which runs, "A prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself, but the simple pass on and are punished."

From the close of the American Revolution to the outbreak of the war of 1812, the Senecas lived in peace and seclusion upon their lands. President George Washington extended to them the hand of friendship and offered them protection from their enemies if they would sign a treaty with him. This they did, and the great American leader filled a place in their affections which has never been equalled by any white man, save Roger Williams or William Penn. So strong was the influence of the "Father of his Country" among them, that in subsequent disturbances in their dominions the Senecas either remained neutral or else were loyal to the Americans and their interests. Red Jacket himself was one of fifty chiefs who journeyed to Philadelphia to visit Washington in 1792, where he was presented with a silver medal on which the President, in military uniform, was represented as handing a long peace pipe to an Indian chief with a scalp-lock decorated with plumes on the top of his head, while a white man was ploughing with a yoke of oxen in the background--a hint to the Indians to abandon war and adopt the peaceful pursuits of agriculture. Red Jacket accepted this with much pleasure, prized it very highly, and wore it on all occasions of state.

When war broke out between the Americans and British in 1812, the Senecas immediately offered their services to their American neighbors. But their proffer of aid was rejected, and every effort was made to induce them to remain neutral. The Indians did not care for such treatment, but said nothing. At last, in the summer of 1812, the English troops took possession of Grand Island, in the Niagara River, and this was a valuable possession of the Senecas. Immediately, therefore, they were anxious for war, a council was called, the American Indian Agent was summoned to attend, and Red Jacket arose to address him.

"Brother," he said, "you have told us that we had nothing to do with the war between you and the British. But the war has come to our doors. Our property is seized by the British and their Indian friends. It is necessary for us then to go to war. We must defend our property. We must drive the enemy from our soil. If we sit still on our lands and take no means of redress, the British, following the custom of you white people, will hold them by conquest, and you, if you conquer Canada, will claim them on the same principles, as conquered from the British. Brother, we wish to go with our warriors and drive off these bad people and take possession of those lands."