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.