LITTLE TURTLE, OR MICHIKINIQUA.
WAR-CHIEF OF THE MIAMIS, AND CONQUEROR OF HARMAR AND
ST. CLAIR.
Judged from his success on the field of battle and his sagacity in council,
Little Turtle deserves to rank among the four greatest American Indians,
the other three being Pontiac, Tecumseh and Chief Joseph. Indeed, when it
is remembered that "nothing succeeds like success," and that he alone of
all the Indian commanders had three victories to his credit (for the defeat
of the whites at Blue Lick, in Kentucky, is also conceded to him), he might
be regarded as in some respects the greatest American Indian.
Little Turtle was thought to have been born on the banks of the Miami
River, in Ohio, about the year 1747. He was the son of a Miami chief, but
his mother was a Mohegan woman, probably captured in war and adopted into
the tribe. As the Indian maxim in relation to descents is generally the
same with that of our obsolete civil law in relation to slaves, that the
condition of the offspring follows the condition of the mother. {FN} Little
Turtle had no advantage whatever from his father's rank. He, however,
became a chief at an early age, for his extraordinary talents attracted the
notice of his countrymen in boyhood.
* * * * *
{FN} "Partus sequitur ventrum."
His first services worthy of mention were those of a young warrior in the
ranks of his tribe. Here the soundness of his judgment and his skill and
bravery in battle soon made him chief, and finally bore him on to a
commanding influence, not only in his own nation, but among all the
neighboring tribes.
Notwithstanding his name, Little Turtle was at this time at least six feet
tall; strong, muscular and remarkably dignified in his manner, though of a
somewhat morose countenance and apparently very crafty and subtle. As a
warrior he was fearless, but not rash; shrewd to plan, bold and energetic
to execute--no peril could daunt and no emergency could surprise him.
Politically he was the first follower of Pontiac, and the latest model of
Tecumseh. He indulged in much the same gloomy apprehension that the whites
would over top and finally uproot his race; and he sought much the same
combination of the Indian nations to prevent it.
Long after the conclusion of the peace of 1783, the British retained
possession of several posts within our ceded limits on the north, which
were rallying-points for the Indians hostile to the American cause, and
where they were supplied and subsisted to a considerable extent, while they
continued to wage that war with us, which their civilized ally no longer
maintained. The infant Government made strenuous exertions to pacify all
these tribes. With some they succeeded, but the Indians of the Miami and
Wabash would consent to no terms. They were strong in domestic combination,
besides receiving encouragement from across the Canadian border.
Little Turtle, ably assisted by Blue Jacket, head chief of the Shawnees of
this period, and Buckongahelas, who led the Delawares, formed a
confederation of the Wyandots, Pottawatomies, Chippewas, Ottawas, Shawnees,
Delawares and Miamis, and parts of several other tribes.
These were substantially the same tribes who had thirty years before been
united under Pontiac, and formed an exact precedent for the combination of
Tecumseh and his brother at Tippecanoe some years after, as will be seen.
On September 13, 1791--all attempts to conciliate the hostile tribes, who
were now ravaging the frontiers, having been abandoned--General Harmar,
under the direction of the Federal Government, marched against them from
Fort Washington, where Cincinnati now stands, with three hundred and twenty
regulars, who were soon after joined by a body of militia, making the whole
force about fifteen hundred men.
When they reached the Miami villages they were found deserted by the
Indians. The army burned them, destroyed the standing corn, and then
encamped on the ground. An Indian trail being discovered soon after,
Hardin, with one hundred and fifty militia, properly officered, and thirty
regulars, commanded by Captain Armstrong, was sent in pursuit.
In a prairie at the distance of six miles, the Indians had formed an ambush
on each side of their own trail, where they were concealed among the bushes
and long grass. All unsuspicious of danger the troops followed the trail,
but were no sooner involved within the snare laid for them than the enemy
poured in a heavy fire from both sides. Greatly to the mortification of
their colonel, the militia broke ranks at once and fled, deserting the
regulars, who stood firm till nearly all of them were killed.
The Indians remained on the field, and during the night held a dance of
victory over their dead and dying enemies. To this ceremony Captain
Armstrong was a constrained and unwilling witness, being sunk to his neck
in mud and water, within a hundred yards of the scene.
The life of Ensign Hartshorn was also saved by his having accidentally
fallen over a log hidden among the weeds and grass. During the night both
these officers eluded the notice of their enemies, and reached camp before
sunrise.
Apparently disheartened by the result of this skirmish, Harmar broke up his
camp in a day or two afterward and retreated nearer the settlements. On the
second day of the march, when about ten miles from the ruined villages, the
general ordered a halt, and sent Colonel Hardin back to the main town with
some sixty regulars and three hundred militia. Hardin had no sooner reached
the point to which he had been ordered, than a small body of Indians
appeared on the ground. After receiving the fire of the militia, the
savages broke into separate parties, and by seeming to fly, as if
panic-stricken, encouraged the militia to follow in pursuit. The stratagem
was successful. The militia had no sooner disappeared in chase of the
fugitives, than the regulars, thus left alone, were suddenly assaulted by
large numbers of the foe, who had hitherto remained in concealment.
The Indians precipitated themselves upon the sixty regulars under Major
Willis, but were received with the most inflexible determination. The
Indian war-whoop, so appalling even to the bravest hearts, was heard in
cool, inflexible silence. The whirling of the tomahawk was met by the
thrust of the bayonet.
Nothing could exceed the intrepidity of the savages on this occasion. The
militia they appeared to despise, and with all the undauntedness
conceivable threw down their guns and rushed upon the bayonets of the
regular soldiers. Quite a few of them fell, but being far superior in
numbers the regulars were soon overpowered; for, while the poor soldier had
his bayonet in one Indian two more would sink their tomahawks in his head.
The defeat of the troops was complete, the dead and wounded were left on
the field of action in possession of the savages.
In the meantime, the militia came straggling in from their vain and
hopeless pursuit, and the struggle was renewed for a time, but when they
realized that the regulars had been almost annihilated during their
absence, they lost heart and retreated.
Of the regulars engaged in this most sanguinary battle only ten escaped
back to the camp, while the militia, under Hardin, lost ninety-eight in
killed and ten others wounded.
After this unfortunate repulse, Harmar retired without attempting anything
further. The conduct of Harmar and Hardin did not escape severe criticism
and censure, not, it would seem, without cause.
Of the eleven hundred or more men under the command of Harmar in this
expedition, there were three hundred and twenty regulars and seven hundred
and eighty militia. But he sent only thirty regulars and one hundred and
fifty militia to the first engagement, and only sixty regulars and three
hundred militia to the second.
Why was it he always sent the raw recruits to find and attack the Indians
and kept the best soldiers idle in the camp? Was it to insure his own
safety, by having a strong guard always present?
Again, it is noticed that, in both cases, instead of advancing himself with
the main body, he sent Colonel Hardin to lead the forlorn hope. He was
always ready to give the command, "Go!" but in his lexicon there was no
such word as "Come!" Consequently the word "fail" was written so plain that
"he who runs might read." Colonel Hardin, for his part, displayed great
courage, and but little skill as an Indian fighter, as he was ambushed and
out-generaled on both occasions. In fact, the only generalship shown in
this campaign was that evinced by the Indian commander, who was none other
than the hero of this sketch, Little Turtle.
General Harmar, deeply chagrined, returned to Fort Washington. He and
Hardin both demanded a court-martial; the latter was unanimously and
honorably acquitted. Harmar was also acquitted, but immediately afterward
resigned his commission.
Elated by their success, the Indians continued their depredations with
greater audacity than ever, and the situation of the frontiers became truly
alarming.
The early movements of the newly organized Federal Government were
difficult and embarrassing. With a view, however, to the defense of the
northern and western frontiers, an act was passed by Congress for
increasing the army; St. Clair, the Governor of the Northwestern
territories, received a commission as major-general, and steps were taken
for raising the new regiment and the levies, the command of which was to be
given to General Butler.
Washington, who was President at this time, had been deeply chagrined by
the mortifying disasters of General Harmar's expedition against the Miamis,
resulting from Indian ambushes. In taking leave, therefore, of his old
military comrade, St. Clair, he wished him success and honor, and added
this solemn warning: "You have your instructions from the Secretary of War.
I had a strict eye to them, and will add but one word--Beware of a
surprise! You know how the Indians fight. I repeat it--_Beware of a
surprise!"_ With these warning words sounding in his ear, fresh with
Washington's awful emphasis, St. Clair started to the front to assume
command.
"Old men for council, young men for war," is a good maxim which was not
regarded at this time. St. Clair was not only old and infirm, but weak and
sick with an attack of gout, and at times almost helpless. Moreover, he had
been very unfortunate in his military career in the Revolutionary War.
Neither he nor the second in command, Maj.-Gen. Richard Butler, possessed
any of the qualities of leadership save courage. The whole burden fell on
the adjutant-general, Colonel Winthrop Sargent, an old Revolutionary
veteran, without whom the expedition would probably have failed in ignominy
even before the Indians were reached, and he showed courage and ability of
a high order; yet in planning for battle he was unable to remedy to the
blunders of his superiors.
Napoleon is quoted as saying. "Better an army of deer led on by a lion than
an army of lions led on by a deer," In the light of subsequent events, this
was much like an army of deer led on by a deer.
The troops were, for the most part, of wretched stuff. St. Clair was
particularly unpopular in Kentucky, and no volunteers could be found to
serve under him. The militia of Kentucky had been called on, and about one
thousand reluctantly furnished by draft; but as they were all unfavorable
to the commander-in-chief, many desertions took place daily. They seemed to
think that the only possible outcome of this expedition was defeat.
St. Clair made his headquarters at Fort Hamilton, now Hamilton, Ohio, about
twenty-five miles northward of Fort Washington, or Cincinnati.
{Illustration: Little Turtle, or Mich-I-Kin-I-Qua, Miami War-chief,
Conqueror of Harmar and St. Clair.}
The season was already advanced before St. Clair took the field. The whole
force of regulars and levies able to march from Fort Washington did not
much exceed two thousand men. Desertion reduced the number to about
fourteen hundred before they had advanced far into the hostile territory.
Continuing the march, however, on the 3d of November he encamped on a piece
of commanding ground, within fifteen miles of the Miami villages. An
interval of only seventy paces was left between the two wings of the army.
The right was in some degree protected by a creek with a steep bank; the
left by cavalry and pickets. Colonel Oldham, who commanded the remains of
the Kentucky levies, was sent across the creek and took a position on the
first rising ground beyond it, about a quarter of a mile distant. Indians
were seen during the afternoon and evening, skulking about the camp, and
were fired at by the sentinels, yet neither St. Clair nor Butler took any
adequate measures to ward off the impending blow, or prevent a surprise.
Indeed, they did not expect to be attacked.
Meantime the Indians were holding a grand war council. The plan of attack
was decided, and the order and rank of the various tribes settled, and
positions assigned them. The Wyandots stretched to the west; the Delawares
were stationed next to them; the Senecas third in order, while the other
tribes and bands took similar positions on the other side. The Turtle,
acting as commander-in-chief, superintended and stimulated the whole, but
headed no particular detachment; the arm of the warrior was to do much, but
the eye and voice of the chieftain much more. Nothing happened during the
night to alarm the Americans, and the noise and stir of the outskirts in
the early part of the evening gradually subsided. All at length was silent,
and it might well be supposed, as it probably was, that the enemy had taken
advantage of the darkness of the night to make good a precipitate retreat,
or that their whole force as yet consisted only of a few scouting and
scalping parties. But they were soon undeceived.
On the morning of November 4, the militia were violently attacked between
dawn and sunrise by a large body of Indians, who, with terrific yells,
poured in a volley of musketry along the entire length of the picket line.
Never was surprise more complete. The ranks of the militia were thrown into
confusion at once by the fury of the onset, the heavy firing, and the
appalling whoops and yells of the throngs of painted savages.
After a brief resistance they broke and fled in wild panic to the camp of
the regulars, among whom they rushed like frightened sheep, spreading
confusion and demoralization.
The troops sprang to arms as soon as they heard the firing at the picket
line, and their volleys checked the onrush of the savages but only for a
moment. The plumed warriors divided and filed off to either side, as if at
the command of their leader, completely surrounding the camp, killing the
pickets and advancing close to the main lines.
The battle was now fiercely contested on both sides, but it was almost a
hopeless struggle for the Americans from the beginning, as it was
impossible for the gunners to hit an enemy they could not see, as they
crept from tree to tree, and log to log. The soldiers stood in close order
in the center, where their ranks were steadily thinned by the rapid fire or
hurtling tomahawk of the Indians.
The Indians fought with great courage and ferocity, and slaughtered the
bewildered soldiers like sheep, as they vainly fired through the dense
smoke into the surrounding woods.
The best description of this battle we have seen is given in Roosevelt's
"Winning of the West," volume IV, chapter 1, in which he says: "The
officers behaved very well, cheering and encouraging their men: but they
were the special targets of the Indians, and fell rapidly. St. Clair and
Butler, by their cool fearlessness in the hour of extreme peril, made some
amends for their shortcomings as commanders. They walked up and down the
lines from flank to flank, passing and repassing each other; for the two
lines of battle were facing outward, and each general was busy trying to
keep his wing from falling back. St. Clair's clothes were pierced by eight
bullets, but he was himself untouched. He wore a blanket coat with a hood;
he had a long queue, and his thick gray hair flowed from under his
three-cornered hat; a lock of his hair was carried off by a bullet. Several
times he headed the charges, sword in hand. General Butler had his arm
broken early in the fight, but he continued to walk to and fro along the
line, his coat off and the wounded arm in a sling. Another bullet struck
him in the side, inflicting a mortal wound; and he was carried to the
middle of the camp, where he sat propped up by knapsacks. Men and horses
were falling around him at every moment. St. Clair sent an aide, Lieut.
Ebenezer Denny, to ask how he was; he displayed no anxiety, and answered
that he felt well. While speaking, a young cadet, who stood near by, was
hit on the knee-cap by a spent ball, and at the shock cried aloud; whereat
the general laughed so that his wounded side shook. The aide left him and
there is no further certain record of his fate except that he was slain;
but it is said that in one of the Indian rushes a warrior bounded toward
him and sunk the tomahawk in his brain before any one could interfere.
"Instead of being awed by the bellowing artillery, the Indians made the
gunners a special object of attack. Man after man was picked off, until
every officer was killed but one, who was wounded; and most of the privates
were slain or disabled. The artillery was thus almost silenced, and the
Indians, emboldened by success, swarmed forward and seized the guns, while
at the same time a part of the left wing of the army began to shrink back.
But the Indians were now on comparatively open ground, where the regulars
could see them and get at them; and under St. Clair's own leadership the
troops rushed fiercely at the savages, with fixed bayonets, and drove them
back to cover. By this time the confusion and disorder were great; while
from every hollow and grass patch, from behind every stump and tree and
fallen log, the Indians continued their fire. Again and again the officers
led forward the troops in bayonet charges; and at first the men followed
them with a will. Each charge seemed for a moment to be successful, the
Indians rising in swarms and running in headlong flight from the bayonets.
In one of these charges Colonel Darke's battalion drove the Indians several
hundred yards, across the branch of the Wabash; but when the colonel halted
and rallied his men, he found the savages had closed in behind him, and he
had to fight his way back, while the foe he had been chasing at once turned
and harrassed his rear. He was himself wounded, and lost most of his
command. On reentering camp he found the Indians again in possession of the
artillery and baggage, from which they were again driven; they had already
scalped the slain, who lay about the guns. Major Thomas Butler had his
thigh broken by a bullet; but continued on horseback in command of his
battalion until the end of the fight. The only regular regiment present
lost every officer killed or wounded. The commander of the Kentucky
militia, Colonel Oldham, was killed early in the action, while trying to
rally his men and berating them for cowards.
"The charging troops could accomplish nothing permanent. The men were too
clumsy and ill-trained in forest warfare to overtake their fleet,
half-naked antagonists. The latter never received the shock; but though
they fled they were nothing daunted, for they turned the instant the
battalion did and followed firing, and, indeed, were only visible when
raised by a charge.
"The Indian attack was relentless, and could neither be avoided, parried
nor met by counter assault. For two hours the soldiers kept up a slowly
lessening resistance; but by degrees their hearts failed. In vain the
officers tried, by encouragement, by jeers, and even blows, to drive them
back to the fight. They were unnerved.
"There was but one thing to do. If possible the remnant of the army must be
saved, and it could only be done by instant flight, even at the cost of
abandoning the wounded. The broad road by which the army had advanced was
the only line of retreat. The artillery had already been spiked and
abandoned. Most of the horses had been killed, but a few were still left,
and on one of these St. Clair mounted. He gathered together those
fragments of the different battalions which contained the few men who still
kept heart and head, and ordered them to charge and regain the road from
which the savages had cut them off. Repeated orders were necessary before
some of the men could be roused from their stupor sufficiently to follow
the charging party; and they were only induced to move when told that it
was a retreat.
"Colonel Darke and a few officers placed themselves at the head of the
column, the coolest and boldest men drew up behind them, and they fell on
the Indians with such fury as to force them back well beyond the road. This
made an opening through which the rest of the troops pressed 'like a drove
of bullocks.'" {FN}
* * * * *
{FN} Van Cleve's Journal.
"The Indians were surprised by the vigor of the charge and puzzled as to
its object. They opened out on both sides and half the soldiers had gone
through before they tired more than a chance shot or two. They then fell on
the rear and began a hot pursuit. St. Clair sent his aide, Denny, to the
front to try to keep order, but neither he nor any one else could check the
flight. Major Clark tried to rally his battalion to cover the retreat, but
he was killed and the effort abandoned."
As soon as the men realized that in flight there lay some hope of safety
they broke into a stampede which soon became uncontrollable. Even St.
Clair admitted in his dispatches that this retreat "was a precipitate one,
in fact, a flight." Most of the militia threw away their arms and
accoutrements, and in their headlong flight the weak and wounded, and even
some of the women who were with the army, were knocked down and ruthlessly
trampled by the terrified men.
The pursuit continued about four miles, when the Indian commander, Little
Turtle, restrained his dusky warriors, saying they had killed enough and
should now divide the spoils. The natural greediness of the savage appetite
for plunder made the red men willing to obey this command, otherwise hardly
a man would have escaped.
General St. Clair tried to stay behind and stem the torrent of fugitives,
but failed utterly, being swept along in the mad stampede. He now attempted
to ride to the front to rally the troops, but the clumsy pack-horse which
he rode could not be pricked out of a walk. The flight continued from
half-past nine until after sunset, when the routed troops reached Fort
Jefferson, some thirty miles distant, completely exhausted.
One day's hurried flight had carried them over a space which covered a
fortnight's advance. Here they met the detached regiment, three hundred
strong, which had been sent by St. Clair after the deserters. Leaving
their wounded at Fort Jefferson, the retreat was continued until the
half-armed rabble reached Fort Washington and the log huts of the infant
city of Cincinnati. {FN}
* * * * *
{FN} Washington was called "the Cincinnati of the West." Hence it was an
easy and natural change from Fort Washington to Cincinnati.
The loss in this disastrous expedition amounted to upward of nine hundred
men, including fifty-nine officers. Of these six hundred and thirty were
killed, and two hundred and eighty wounded. Only one or two were taken
prisoners, as the savages killed every one who fell into their hands. It
is said that the influence of Little Turtle prevented any captives being
tortured, but he could not prevent one case of cannibalism.
In Brickell's Narrative it is stated that the savage Chippewas from the
far-off North devoured one of the slain soldiers, {FN} probably in a spirit
of ferocious bravado; the other tribes expressed horror at the deed.
* * * * *
{FN} In our investigations we have found several cases of cannibalism, but
they have always been Canadian Indians, especially the tribes living near
lakes Huron and Superior. We believe it was not common.
St. Clair's defeat, with the possible exception of that of Braddock, was
the most complete and overwhelming in the annals of Indian warfare. He and
his apologists always claimed that he was overpowered by numbers; but as no
English historian makes the Indians more numerous than the Americans, some
credit must be given to them upon other grounds than the pretext of
numerical superiority. Indeed, their attack was conducted with astonishing
intrepidity. After the first volley of firearms, they fought every inch of
the field hand to hand, with their tomahawks.
The Indians were rich in spoil. They got horses, cattle, tents, guns, axes,
powder, bullets, clothing, blankets and a supply of provisions--in short,
everything they needed.
Thatcher is responsible for the statement that "an American officer, who
encountered a party of thirty Indians near the battle-ground, a day or two
after the defeat, and was detained by them till they were made to believe
him a friend to their cause, from Canada, was informed that the number of
the Indians engaged in the battle was twelve hundred, of whom the larger
portion were Miamis, besides half-breeds and renegades, including among the
latter the notorious Simon Girty." This officer was also informed that the
number killed on the Indian side was fifty-six.
These savages were returning home with their share of the plunder. One of
them had a hundred and twenty-seven American scalps, strung on a pole, and
the rest were laden with various other articles of different values. They
had also three pack-horses, carrying as many kegs of wine and spirits as
could be piled on their backs. {FN}
* * * * *
{FN} Perhaps this last statement tends to explain the easy victory of the
Indians.
When the remnant of the shattered army reached Fort Washington, St. Clair
dispatched his aide, the ever ready Lieut. Ebenezer Denny, to carry the
news to Philadelphia, the national capital.
The manner in which the news of this disaster affected Washington is thus
described by Mr. Rush. Said he, "Mr. Lear (the President's private
secretary) saw a storm was gathering. In the agony of his emotion he
(Washington) struck his clenched hands with fearful force against his
forehead, and in a paroxysm of anguish exclaimed: 'It's all over! St.
Clair's defeated--routed; the officers nearly all killed--the men by
wholesale--that brave army cut to pieces--the rout complete! Too shocking
to think of--and a _surprise_ in the bargain!' He uttered all this with
great vehemence. Then he paused and walked about the room several times,
agitated, but saying nothing. Near the door he stopped short and stood
still a few seconds; then turning to the secretary, who stood amazed at the
spectacle of Washington in all his wrath, he again broke forth:
"'_Yes, sir. Here, in this very room, on this very spot,_ I took leave of
him: I wished him success and honor. 'You have your instructions,' I said,
'from the Secretary of War: I had a strict eye to them, and will add but
one word--beware of a _surprise!_ I repeat it--beware of a _surprise!_ You
know how the Indians fight us. He went off with that as my last solemn
warning thrown into his ears. And yet to suffer that army to be cut to
pieces, hacked by a surprise--the very thing I guarded him against! 0. God!
0. God! He's worse than a murderer! How can he answer it to his country?
The blood of the slain is upon him--the curse of widows and orphans--the
curse of heaven!'"
This torrent came out in tone appalling. His very frame shook. "It was
awful!" said Mr. Lear. "More than once he threw his hands up as he hurled
imprecations upon St. Clair." Mr. Lear remained speechless--awed into
breathless silence. Presently the roused chief sat down on the sofa once
more. He seemed conscious of his passion, and uncomfortable. He was silent;
his wrath began to subside. He at length said, in an altered voice: "This
must not go beyond this room." Another pause followed--a longer one--when
he said in a tone quite low, "General St. Clair shall have justice. I
looked hastily through the dispatches--saw the whole disaster, but not all
the particulars. I will hear him without prejudice; he shall have full
justice; yes, long, faithful and meritorious services have their claims."
Washington was now perfectly calm. Half an hour had gone by; the storm of
indignation and passion was over, and no sign of it was afterward seen in
his conduct or heard in his conversation. His wrath on this occasion was
perhaps never before aroused to so great a degree, except when he
confronted Lee, when the latter was retreating at the battle of Monmouth.
{Illustration: Little Turtle's warriors chasing St. Clair's scout.}
The effect of this terrible disaster was at once encouraging to Little
Turtle and his formidable confederation, and correspondingly depressing to
the youthful government and the settlers of the Northwest Territory, where
Indian depredations increased alarmingly.
Congress soon took the necessary steps to raise and equip another army, and
tendered the command to Gen. Anthony Wayne, commonly called "Mad Anthony"
because of his intrepid courage and energy. General Wayne accepted the
command on condition that sufficient time be allotted him to thoroughly
drill his raw recruits. Wayne proved to be the right man for the place and
fully sustained the reputation he had won at Stony Point and other battles
of the Revolution. He soon had his militia under such perfect discipline
that they were ready and anxious to meet the enemy.
Perhaps no man in the country was better qualified to meet the emergencies
of an Indian warfare in the woods. Thatcher says, "The Indians were
themselves, indeed, sensible of this fact, and the mere intelligence of his
approach had its effect on their spirits. They universally called him the
'Black Snake,' from the superior cunning which they ascribed to him; and
even allowed him the credit of being a fair match for Buckongahelas, Blue
Jacket or the Turtle himself."
Wayne prosecuted the decisive campaign of 1794 with a spirit which
justified the estimate of his enemy, although, owing to the difficulties of
transporting stores and provisions through a wilderness, which at that time
could not be traversed by wagons, he was unable to commence operations
until near midsummer. He had already in the fall of the previous season
erected Fort Recovery, on the site of St. Clair's defeat; and early in
August, he raised a fortification at the confluence of the Au-Glaize and
Miami, which he named Fort Defiance. His whole force was now nearly two
thousand regulars, exclusive of eleven hundred mounted Kentucky militia,
under General Scott. Here he had expected to surprise the neighboring
villages of the enemy; and the more effectually to insure the success of
his _coup-de-main,_ he had not only advanced thus far by an obscure and
very difficult route, but taken pains to clear out two roads from
Greenville in that direction, in order to attract and divert the attention
of the Indians, while he marched by neither. But his generalship proved of
no avail. The Turtle and his warriors kept too vigilant an eye on the foe
they were now awaiting, to be easily surprised, even had not their
movements been quickened, as they were, by the information of an American
deserter.
On the 12th of the month the General learned from some of the Indians taken
prisoners, that their main body occupied a camp near the British fort at
the rapids of the Miami. But he now resolved before approaching them much
nearer to try the effect of one more proposal of peace. He had in his army
a man named Miller, who had long been a captive with some of the tribes,
and spoke their language, and he selected him for the hazardous
undertaking.
Miller did not want to go; he believed the Indians were determined on war,
and that they would not respect a flag of truce, but would probably kill
him. General Wayne, however, assured Miller that he would hold the eight
prisoners then in his custody as pledges for his safety, and that he might
take with him any escort he desired. Thus encouraged, the soldier consented
to go with the message; and to attend him, he selected from the prisoners
one of the men and a squaw. With these he left camp at 4 P. M. on the 13th,
and at daybreak next morning arrived at the tents of the hostile chiefs,
which were near together, and known by his attendants, without being
discovered. He immediately displayed his white flag and proclaimed himself
"a messenger with a peace talk." Instantly he was assailed on all sides,
with a hideous yell, while some of the Indians shouted, "Kill the runner!
Kill the spy!" But when he addressed them in their own language and
explained to them his real character, they suspended the blow, and took him
into custody. He showed and explained the general's letter, not omitting
the positive assurance that if they did not send the bearer back to him by
the 16th of the month, he would at sunset on that day cause every Indian in
his camp to be put to death.
Miller was closely confined and a council called by the chiefs. On the
15th he was liberated, and furnished with an answer to General Wayne, which
was "that if he waited where he was for ten days, and then sent Miller for
them, they would treat with him; but that if he advanced, they would give
him battle." The general's impatience had prevented his waiting the return
of his minister. Miller came up with the army on the 16th, however, and
delivered the answer; to which he added, that "from the manner in which the
Indians were dressed and painted, and the constant arrival of parties, it
was his opinion they had determined on war and only wanted time to muster
their whole force." {FN}
* * * * *
{FN} Marshall.
This intelligence caused Wayne to rapidly continue his march down the
Maumee.
Meantime the red men, through their runners, had full knowledge of his
movements. During the night preceding the battle of Fallen Timbers, the
chiefs of the different tribes of the confederation held a council, and it
was proposed by some to go up and attack General Wayne in his encampment.
The proposition was opposed, and it was determined to wait until the next
day and fight the battle on ground of their own selection, in front of the
British fort. Little Turtle, more wise than the other chiefs, disapproved
of this plan, while Blue Jacket was warmly in favor of it. The former
disliked the idea of fighting Wayne under present circumstances, and was
even inclined to make peace. Schoolcraft informs us that, in his speech in
the council, he said, "We have beaten the enemy twice, under separate
commanders. We can not expect the same good fortune to always attend us.
The Americans are now led by a chief who never sleeps. The night and the
day are alike to him; and during all the time that he has been marching
upon our villages, notwithstanding the watchfulness of our young men, we
have never been able to surprise him. Think well of it. There is something
whispers me, it would be prudent to listen to his offers of peace." On this
he was reproached by one of the chiefs with cowardice, and that ended the
conference. Stung to the quick by a reproach which he felt he never
merited; he would have laid the reviler dead at his feet; but his was not
the bravery of an assassin. He took his post at the head of the Miamis when
the battle was fought, determined to do his duty; and that event proved
that he had formed a very correct estimate of the ability of General Wayne.
Having been reinforced by sixteen hundred Kentuckians, under the brave
general, Charles Scott, Wayne's army now numbered about four thousand men,
and he was ready for battle. He used every caution while in the Indian's
country, and invariably went into camp about the middle of the afternoon,
in a hollow square, which was inclosed by a rampart of logs. He was well
aware that hundreds of eyes were watching his every movement from tree and
bush, and he was determined never to be surprised.
The battle of Fallen Timbers, so called because at this place a large
number of forest trees had been blown down by a tornado, was fought August
20, 1794.
The Indians took this position because it would give them favorable, covert
for their mode of warfare, and prevent the successful use of cavalry.
Moreover, it was practically under the guns of the British fort, on the
Maumee, from whence the Indians doubtless expected aid. The savages were
formed in three lines, within supporting distance of each other, and
extending for nearly two miles at right angles with the river.
A selected battalion of mounted volunteers moved in front of the legion,
commanded by Major Price, who was ordered to keep sufficiently in advance
so as to give timely warning for the troops to form for action. After
advancing about five miles, Major Price's corps received the fire of the
enemy, who were secreted in the high grass and behind bushes, and fell back
to the main army. The legion was immediately formed into two lines and
ordered to charge with trailed arms and rouse the Indians from their
coverts with point of bayonet, and when up to deliver a close and well
directed fire on their backs, followed by a brisk charge, so as not to give
them time to reload. The cavalry was ordered to make a wide circuit and
attack the Indians after they were driven from their position. But so
impetuous was the charge of the well-trained infantry, they had the red men
routed and in full retreat before the cavalry could head them off. The
Indians were driven in the course of an hour several miles through the
thick woods by less than half their numbers.
The panic-stricken savages were chased with great slaughter to the very
walls of the British fort of Maumee, the commander of which had promised,
in case of defeat, to open the gates and give them protection. But he
probably had no real intention of doing so; certain it is, the gates
remained closed while scores of Indians were cut down without mercy by the
"Long Knives," {FN} even while huddled about the gates clamoring for
admission. Thus it was that this fort, instead of being a place of refuge,
became a delusion and a snare, and a veritable death trap to the routed
Indians.
* * * * *
{FN} The name "Long Knives" had been given by the Indians to the American
soldiers before this battle, but it was now revived as the Kentucky
cavalry, who did much of the slaughter, were all armed with long swords.
General Wayne, in his official report, gave his killed as thirty-eight, and
his wounded, one hundred and one. The loss of the Indians' could not be
definitely ascertained, but, inasmuch as they had two thousand warriors
engaged, it must have been great.
The formidable confederation of tribes was so completely crushed, they did
not recover from the effects of it for twenty years. After destroying all
the cornfields of the Indians for miles around, and laying waste all their
towns, Wayne gave the savages to understand that their alternative was
peace or destruction.
Seeing only starvation confronting them, and knowing, from sad experience,
the folly of expecting aid from the British or Canadians, the Indians
determined to make a treaty with Wayne in the summer of 1795. This was
ratified at Greenville, Ohio, August 7. Red men were present to the number
of eleven hundred and thirty, including a full delegation from every
hostile tribe. By the conditions of this treaty the Indians solemnly
covenanted to keep the peace, and agreed to cede to our Government a vast
tract of land lying in the present States of Ohio, Indiana and Michigan.
The Government in its turn agreed to pay the tribes annuities aggregating
nine thousand five hundred dollars, and acknowledge the Indian title to the
remaining territories, probably with the usual mental reservation, until
such time as the white men wanted to settle on it. In addition to this, all
prisoners on both sides were to be restored.
Dawson, in his memoirs of General Harrison (who was educated in General
Wayne's family), has given some interesting reminiscences respecting the
conclusion of this peace. He states that Little Turtle took a decided part
against the giving up of the large tract of country which General Wayne
required on the part of the United States. This circumstance, however, was
not unfavorable to the attainment of the object, as it was evident there
was a violent jealousy of the Turtle among most of the Ottawas, Chippewas
and Pottawatomies, so that they invariably opposed everything which he
advocated. And as they and their friends constituted the majority of the
council the Turtle was always in the minority. The superiority of his mind
was conspicuous not only in their company, but in his deportment in the
society of white people. All the chiefs were invited, in their turns, to
the general's table, and on these occasions the most of them showed
themselves still savages. But the Turtle seemed to readily adopt the ways
of civilization, and, in comparison with his brother chiefs, was quite a
gentleman.
After the peace was concluded, the Turtle settled upon Eel River, about
twenty miles from Fort Wayne, where the Americans erected for him a
comfortable house. He frequently visited the seat of government, both at
Philadelphia and Washington. His taste for civilized life being observed,
the Indian agents were desired by the Government to furnish him with every
reasonable accommodation for his comfortable subsistence, hoping that the
example might prove beneficial in their exertions to civilize the other
Indians.
Thatcher informs us that, "These indulgences, however, entirely destroyed,
for a time at least, the Turtle's influence among the savages; for some
envied his good fortune and others suspected his honesty. Being perfectly
sensible of this, and not a little chagrined by it, we may fairly presume
that he made various attempts to recover his popularity. This was probably
the secret of his opposition to the interests of the United States, on more
occasions than one, where it was not altogether indispensable. But we
certainly need not deny him on that account the credit of real patriotism,
which he manifested at all times. The truth is that in some indifferent
cases, when he might have yielded to the demands of the American
authorities without disgrace, he opposed them chiefly for the sake of
retaining or regaining his influence with his countrymen."
Schoolcraft, who speaks of Little Turtle in very complimentary terms, gives
him the credit of doing at least as much as any other Indian in America "to
abolish the rites of human sacrifice." By this he means the torture of
prisoners, especially burning them at the stake. In this he is undoubtedly
right, for the Turtle uniformly enjoyed the reputation of being as humane
as he was brave. No prisoner was ever reserved for torture by his warriors.
Nor was this the only case in which he acted the part of a reformer, so
much needed among his countrymen. He was the first chief to originate an
efficient system of measures for the suppression of intemperance among his
people. And never was a similar system so loudly called for, for the
condition of his people was truly deplorable. The Turtle was no less
mortified than incensed by these abuses. He saw his countrymen destroyed,
and destroying each other, every day in peace, and no tribe was more
besotted than the Eel River Miamis; and he saw hundreds of them in war, at
one time, surprised and massacred in their cups without resistance, like
sheep assailed by wolves, on the very ground still red and wet with his
victories. Possibly chagrin was as strong a motive with him as
philanthropy. But, however that might be, he devoted himself with his usual
energy to the correction of the evil. In 1802, or 1803, he went before the
Legislature of Kentucky, attended by his friend and interpreter, Captain
Wells, {FN} and made his appeal to them in person. A committee was
appointed to consider the subject, and we believe a law was passed to
prevent the sale of whisky to the Indians, as he desired. He also visited
the Legislature of Ohio, and made a highly animated address. His
description of the Indian traders was drawn from life, when he said, "They
stripped the poor Indian of skins, gun, blanket, everything--while his
squaw and the children dependent on him lay starving and shivering in his
wigwam." Thatcher informs us that nothing came of this eloquent speech
except the empty honor of addressing that august body.
* * * * *
{FN} This Captain William Wells, when a lad, was captured with four others
while hunting near Louisville, Kentucky. The Indians conveyed them to
Indiana. Afterward Wells was taken to a village of the Miamis in Ohio,
and, on being adopted into the tribe became a brother-in-law to Little
Turtle. He afterward left the Indians to become one of Wayne's scouts, and
was killed at the Fort Dearborn massacre in 1812. He left a family of half
breed children, and for him Wells street, Chicago, is named.
Little Turtle seems to have been an all-round reformer. He it was who first
introduced the practice of inoculation for the prevention of smallpox among
the Indians--a scourge second only to whisky, as we learn from the European
(London) Magazine, of April, 1802. The article was compiled from American
papers, and made this statement: "Last winter, there was a grand embassy of
Indians to the President and Congress at Washington. Little Turtle was the
head warrior. The President had supplied them with plows, spinning-wheels,
etc., and to crown all he explained to them how the Great Spirit had made a
donation to the white men--first to one in England (Dr. Jenner), and then
to one in America (Dr. Waterhouse, of Boston)--of a means of preventing
the smallpox. Such a confidence had the copper-colored King in the words of
his 'Father,' that he submitted to be inoculated, together with the rest of
the warriors. It further appears that he took a quantity of the vaccine
matter home with him, which he probably administered in person not long
afterward fifteen more of his tribe visited the seat of government in
pursuit of the same remedy."
{Illustration: Ouray, late principal chief of he Utes.}
We shall conclude our sketch of this eminent chief with a few anecdotes
preserved by Mr. Dawson:
"What distinguished him most," says that writer, "was his ardent desire to
be informed of all that relates to our institutions; and he seemed to
possess a mind capable of understanding and valuing the advantages of
civilized life, in a degree far superior to any other Indian of his time.
During the frequent visits which he made to the seat of government, he
examined everything he saw with an inquisitive eye, and never failed to
embrace every opportunity to acquire information by inquiring of those with
whom he could take that liberty.
"Upon his return from Philadelphia, in 1797, he visited Governor Harrison,
at that time a captain in the army, and commander at Fort Washington. He
told the captain he had seen many things, which he wished to have
explained, but said he was afraid of giving offense by asking too many
questions. 'My friend here,' said he, meaning Captain Wells, the
interpreter, 'being about as ignorant as myself, could give me but little
satisfaction.' He then desired the captain to inform him how our Government
was formed, and what particular powers and duties were exercised by the two
houses of Congress, by the President, the Secretaries, etc. Being satisfied
on this subject, he told the captain he had become acquainted with a great
warrior while in Philadelphia, in whose fate he was much interested and
whose history he wished to learn. This was no other than the immortal
Kosciusko; he had arrived at Philadelphia a short time before, and hearing
that a celebrated Indian chief was in the city, he sent for him. They were
mutually pleased with each other, and the Turtle's visits were often
repeated. When he went to take his final leave of the wounded patriot, the
latter presented Little Turtle with an elegant pair of pistols, and a
splendid robe, made of sea otter's skin, worth several hundred dollars.
"The Turtle now told his host that he wished very much to know in what wars
his friend had received those grievous wounds which had rendered him so
crippled and infirm. The captain showed him, upon a map of Europe, the
situation of Poland, and explained to him the usurpations of its territory
by the neighboring powers--the exertions of Kosciusko to free his country
from this foreign yoke--his first victories, and his final defeat and
captivity. While he was describing the last unsuccessful battle of
Kosciusko, the Turtle seemed scarcely able to contain himself. At the
conclusion he traversed the room with great agitation, violently flourished
the pipe tomahawk which he had been smoking, and exclaimed, 'Let that woman
take care of herself'--meaning the Empress Catharine--'this may yet be a
dangerous man!'
"The captain explained to the Turtle some anecdotes respecting the Empress
and her favorites, one of whom--the King of Poland--had at first been by
her elevated to the throne and afterward driven from it. He was much
astonished to find that men, and particularly warriors, would submit to a
woman. He said that perhaps if his friend Kosciusko had been a portly,
handsome man, he might have had better success with her majesty of all the
Russias, and might by means of a love-intrigue have obtained that
independence for his country, to which his skill and valor in the field had
been found unequal.
"The Turtle was fond of joking, and was possessed of considerable talent
for repartee. In the year 1797 he lodged in a house in Philadelphia, in
which was an Irish gentleman of considerable wit, who became much attached
to the Indian and frequently amused himself in drawing out his wit by
good-humored jests. The Turtle and this gentleman were at that time both
sitting for their portraits--the former by order of the President of the
United States, the picture to be hung up in the war-office--to the
celebrated Stewart. The two meeting one morning in the painter's studio,
the Turtle appeared to be rather more thoughtful than usual. The Irishman
rallied him upon it, and affected to construe it into an acknowledgment of
his superiority in the jocular contest. 'He mistakes,' said the Turtle to
the interpreter, 'I was just thinking of proposing to this man, to paint us
both on one board, and here I would stand face to face with him, and berate
him to all eternity.'"
Little Turtle opposed the designs of Tecumseh and the Prophet, from the
time of their first appearance on the political stage, and it was owing to
his influence that very little was effected by them among the Miamis, as
well as other tribes, for a long time. Had he lived through the war of
1812, he would undoubtedly have exerted himself more energetically for the
American interest than ever before. The following communication indicates
the part he was prepared to take, subsequent to the battle of Tippecanoe.
The "witness" probably acted as amanuensis:
"Fort Wayne, 25th Jan., 1812.
Governor Harrison:
"My friend,--I have been requested by my nation to speak to you, and obey
their request with pleasure, because I believe their situation requires all
the aid I can afford them.
"When your speech by Mr. Dubois was received by the Miamis, they answered
it, and I made known to you their opinion at that time.
"Your letter to William Wells, of the 23d November last, has been explained
to the Miamis and Eel River tribes of Indians.
"My friend, although neither of these tribes have had anything to do with
the late unfortunate affair which happened on the Wabash, still they all
rejoice to hear you say, that if those foolish Indians which were engaged
in that action would return to their several homes and remain quiet, that
they would be pardoned, and again received by the President as his
children. We believe there is none of them that will be so foolish as not
to accept of this friendly offer; whilst, at the same time, I assure you,
that nothing shall be wanting on my part to prevail on them to accept it.
"All the Prophet's followers have left him (with the exception of two camps
of his own tribe); Tecumseh has just joined him with eight men only. No
danger can be apprehended from them at present. Our eyes will be constantly
kept on them, and should they attempt to gather strength again, we will do
all in our power to prevent it, and at the same time give you immediate
information of their intentions.
"We are sorry that the peace and friendship which has so long existed
between the red and white people, could not be preserved, without the loss
of so many good men as fell on both sides in the late action on the Wabash;
but we are satisfied that it will be the means of making that peace which
ought to exist between us more respected, both by the red and the white
people.
"We have been lately told by different Indians from that quarter, that you
wished the Indians from this country to visit you; this they will do with
pleasure when you give them information of it in writing.
"My friend, the clouds appear to be rising in a different quarter, which
threatens to turn our light into darkness. To prevent this, it may require
the united efforts of us all. We hope that none of us will be found to
shrink from the storm that threatens to burst upon our nations.
"Your friend.
"(X) Mischecanocquah, {FN} or Little Turtle,
For the Miami and Eel River tribes of Indians.
Witness, Wm. Turner, Surgeon's Mate, U. S. Army.
I certify that the above is a true translation.
Wm. Wells."
* * * * *
{FN} Written also Michikiniqua
We thus find that the Turtle's sympathies were with the Americans in the
war of 1812, which was about to burst forth in all its fury. But he was not
destined to be an active participant in the stirring scenes that succeeded.
He died while on a visit to the commandant at Fort Wayne, July 14, 1812,
deeply deplored by the whites as well as his own people.
His last disease, according to the report of the army surgeon, was gout,
and from it he was a great sufferer, but he endured it "with the
characteristic composure of his race." He died on the turf of his open camp
and was buried by his friend, the commandant, with honors of war.
He was said to be sixty-five years of age by those who had the opportunity
of learning the fact from himself. That account would make him forty-five
at the time of his great victory over St. Clair; and about thirty at the
breaking out of the American Revolution, during which he no doubt laid the
foundation of his fame. It is known that the Miamis gave as much trouble
during that period as any other tribe on the continent ever did in as few
years, and the Turtle was then their rising young chief.
There is one other story of Little Turtle which is too good to omit. When
the celebrated French traveler, Volney, made the acquaintance of the Turtle
he asked what prevented him from living among the whites, and if he were
not more comfortable in Philadelphia than upon the banks of the Wabash? To
which he replied, "Taking all things together, you have the advantage over
us; but here I am deaf and dumb. I do not talk your language; I can neither
hear nor make myself heard. When I walk through the streets, I see every
person in his shop employed about something, one makes shoes, and another
hats, a third sells cloth, and every one lives by his labor. I say to
myself, 'which of all these things can you do?' Not one. I can make a bow
or an arrow, catch fish, kill game and go to war; but none of these are of
any use here. To learn what is done here would require a long time. Old age
comes on. I should be a piece of furniture, useless to my nation, useless
to the whites and useless to myself. I must return to my own country."
Savage and heathen as he was, because of his environment, he always had an
intense longing for better conditions for himself and people; which goes to
prove that Little Turtle was one of nature's noblemen.