CHAPTER XI.

ORATORY.

The eloquence of the Indians is natural and simple; they speak what their feelings dictate without art and without rule; their speeches are forcible and impressive, their arguments few and pointed, and when they mean to persuade as well as convince, they take the shortest way to reach the heart. I know that their oratorical powers have been strongly controverted, and this is not astonishing, when we consider the prejudice that exists against their languages, which are in general believed to be poor, and inadequate to the expression of any but the most common ideas. Hence all the specimens that have been given to the world of their oratory have been viewed with a suspicious eye; the celebrated speech of Logan, authenticated as it is by the respectable authority of Col. John Gibson, has been denied to be genuine even in this country. For my part, I am convinced that it was delivered precisely as it is related to us, with this only difference, that it possessed a force and expression in the Indian language which it is impossible to transmit into our own.

I hope the exertions and researches of the Historical Committee will make the character and genius of the Indian languages better known than they have hitherto been. The world will then be better able to judge of their extent and powers, and to decide whether or not they are adequate to the purposes of oratory. In the meantime, I shall content myself with presenting another specimen of Indian eloquence; one which I did not receive at second hand, but at the delivery of which I was present in person. The translation which I offer will give but a faint idea of the strength and spirit of the original; I vouch, however, for its being as correct as it has been in my power to make it.

This speech was spoken at Detroit,[146] on the frontier of Canada, on the 9th of December,[147] 1801, by Captain Pipe,[148] a chief of the Delaware nation, and was addressed to the commanding officer of that post, then in possession of the British. The Delawares, it will be recollected, had been the steadfast friends of the French, in the war of 1756. The peace which was concluded in 1763, between the two great nations who then contended for the supremacy of this continent, was not for several years regarded by the Indians, and they continued their hostilities against the subjects and government of Great Britain. They were obliged, however, to submit to superior force; not without hopes that their father, the king of France, would soon send over a powerful army to retake Canada. They were in this situation when the war of the revolution broke out. It is well known that it was a part of the system of the British administration to employ the savages to subdue those whom they called their revolted subjects. The Delawares, in general, as I have before related, having in vain endeavoured to remain neutral, took part with the Americans. Captain Pipe, however, with a party of the Wolf tribe, joined the English in the beginning of the war, and soon after repented it. But it was too late. He was now reluctantly compelled to go out against the Americans with the men under his command. On his return from one of those expeditions, he went to make his report to the British commandant at Detroit,[149] by whom he was received in state at the council house, in the presence of a great number of Indians, British officers and others. There were several Missionaries present, among which I was. The chief was seated in front of his Indians, facing the commandant. He held in his left hand an human scalp tied to a short stick. After a pause of some minutes he rose, and addressing the governor, delivered the following speech:

“FATHER!” (Here the orator stopped, and turning round to the audience, with a face full of meaning, and a sarcastic look, which I should in vain attempt to describe, he went on in a lower tone of voice, as addressing himself to them;)--“I have said _father_, although, indeed, I do not know why I am to call _him_ so, having never known any other father than the French, and considering the English only as _brothers_. But as this name is also _imposed_ upon us, I shall make use of it and say: (Here he fixed his eyes on the commandant.)

“FATHER! Some time ago you put a war hatchet into my hands, saying: Take this weapon and try it on the heads of my enemies the _long knives_, and let me afterwards know if it was sharp and good.

“FATHER! At the time when you gave me this weapon, I had neither cause nor inclination to go to war against a people who had done me no injury; yet in obedience to you, who say you are my father and call me your child, I received the hatchet; well knowing that if I did not obey, you would withhold from me[150] the necessaries of life, without which I could not subsist, and which are not elsewhere to be procured but at the house of my father.

“FATHER! You may, perhaps, think me a fool, for risking my life at your bidding, in a cause, too, by which I have no prospect of gaining anything; for it is _your_ cause and not mine. It is _your_ concern to fight the _long knives_; _you_ have raised a quarrel amongst yourselves, and _you_ ought yourselves to fight it out. You should not compel your children, the Indians, to expose themselves to danger for _your sakes_.

“FATHER! Many lives have already been lost on _your_ account!--Nations have suffered and been weakened!--Children have lost parents, brothers and relatives!--Wives have lost husbands!--It is not known how many more may perish before YOUR war will be at an end!

“FATHER! I have said that you may, perhaps, think me a fool, for thus thoughtlessly rushing on _your_ enemy!--Do not believe this, Father! Think not that I want sense to convince me, that although you _now_ pretend to keep up a perpetual enmity to the long knives, you may, before long, conclude a peace with them.

“FATHER! You say you love your children, the Indians.--This you have often told them; and indeed it is your interest to say so to them, that you may have them at your service.

“But, FATHER! who of us can believe that you can love a people of a different colour from your own, better than those who have a _white_ skin, like yourselves?

“FATHER! Pay attention to what I am going to say. While you, Father, are setting me[151] on your enemy, much in the same manner as a hunter sets his dog on the game; while I am in the act of rushing on that enemy of yours, with the bloody destructive weapon you gave me, I may, perchance, happen to look back to the place from whence you started me, and what shall I see? Perhaps, I may see my father shaking hands with the _long knives_; yes, with those very people he now calls his enemies. I may, then, see him laugh at my folly for having obeyed his orders; and yet I am now risking my life at his command! Father! keep what I have said in remembrance.

“Now, FATHER! here is what has been done with the hatchet you gave me.” (Handing the stick with the scalp on it.) “I have done with the hatchet what you ordered me to do, and found it sharp. Nevertheless, I did not do _all_ that I _might_ have done. No, I did not. My heart failed within me. I felt compassion for _your_ enemy. _Innocence_[152] had no part in your quarrels; therefore I distinguished--I spared. I took some _live flesh_,[153] which, while I was bringing to you, I spied one of your large canoes, on which I put it for you. In a few days you will receive this _flesh_, and _find that the skin is of the same colour with your own_.

“FATHER! I hope you will not destroy _what_[154] I have saved. You, Father! have the means of preserving that which with me would perish for want. The warrior is poor and his cabin is always empty; but your house, father! is always full.”

Here we see boldness, frankness, dignity, and humanity happily blended together and most eloquently displayed. I am much mistaken if the component parts of this discourse are not put together much according to the rules of oratory which are taught in the schools, and which were certainly unknown to this savage. The peroration at the end is short, but truly pathetic, and I would even say, sublime; and then the admirable way in which it is prepared! I wish I could convey to the reader’s mind only a small part of the impression which this speech made on me and on all present when it was delivered.

It is but justice here to say, that Capt. Pipe was well acquainted with the noble and generous character of the British officer to whom this speech was addressed. He is still living in his own country, an honour to the British name. He obeyed the orders of his superiors in employing the Indians to fight against us, but he did it with reluctance and softened as much as was in his power the horrors of that abominable warfare. He esteemed Captain Pipe, and I have no doubt, was well pleased with the humane conduct of this Indian chief, whose sagacity in this instance is no less deserving of praise than his eloquence. It is thus that great minds understand each other, and even in the most difficult and trying situations, find the means of making the cause of humanity triumph.