Fort Pitt was the British military head-quarters of the Western

frontier. It was the Gibraltar of defence, protecting the Eastern

colonies from invasion by the Western Indians. The consummation of

Pontiac's gigantic scheme depended upon the capture of Fort Pitt. It was

a strong fortification at the confluence of the Allegheny and

Monongahela Rivers. Its northern ramparts were faced with brick on the

side looking down the Ohio. Fort Pitt stood "far aloof in the forest,

and one might journey eastward full two hundred miles before the English

settlements began to thicken." The garrison consisted of three hundred

thirty soldiers, traders, and backwoodsmen, besides about one hundred

women and a greater number of children. Captain Simeon Ecuyer, a brave

Swiss officer, was in command. Every preparation was made for the

expected attack. All houses and cabins outside the palisade were

levelled to the ground. A rude fire-engine was constructed to extinguish

any flames that might be kindled by the burning arrows of the Indians.

In the latter part of May the hostile savages began to approach the

vicinity of the fort. On June 22d they opened fire "upon every side at

once." The garrison replied by a discharge of howitzers, the shells of

which, bursting in the midst of the Indians, greatly amazed and

disconcerted them. The Indians then boldly demanded a surrender of the

fort, saying vast numbers of braves were on the way to destroy it.

Ecuyer displayed equal bravado and replied that several thousand British

soldiers were on the way to punish the tribes for their uprising. The

fort was now in a state of siege. For about a month "nothing occurred

except a series of petty and futile attacks," in which the Indians,

mostly Ottawas, Ojibwas, and Delawares, did small damage. On July 26th,

under a flag of truce, the besiegers again demanded surrender. It was

refused and Ecuyer told the savages that if they again showed themselves

near the Fort he would throw "bombshells" among them and "blow them to

atoms." The assault was continued with renewed fury.

Meanwhile Sir Jeffrey Amherst, the commander-in-chief of the British

forces, awakening to the gravity of the situation, ordered Colonel

Bouquet, a brave and able officer in his majesty's service, to take

command of certain specified forces and proceed as rapidly as possible

to the relief of Fort Pitt, and then make aggressive warfare on the

Western tribes. Bouquet, leaving his head-quarters at Philadelphia,

reached Carlisle late in June, where he heard for the first time of the

calamities at Presqu'île, Le Boeuf, and Venango. He left Carlisle with

a force of five hundred men, some of them the pick of the British

regulars, but many of them aged veterans enfeebled by disease and long,

severe exposure. Bouquet had seen considerable service in Indian

warfare. He was not likely to be caught napping. He marched slowly along

the Cumberland Valley and crept cautiously over the mountains, passing

Forts Loudon and Bedford, the latter surrounded with Indians, to Fort

Ligonier, which, as noted above, had been blockaded for weeks by the

savages who, as at Bedford, fled at Bouquet's approach.

On August 5th the little army, footsore and tired and half-famished,

reached a small stream within twenty-five miles of Fort Pitt, known as

Bushy Run. Here in the afternoon they were suddenly and fiercely fired

upon by a superior number of Indians. A terrific contest ensued, only

ended by the darkness of night. The encounter was resumed next day; the

odds were against the British, who were surrounded and were being cut

down in great numbers by the Indians who skulked behind trees and logs

and in the grass and declivities. Bouquet resorted to a ruse which was

signally successful. He formed his men in a wide semicircle, and from

the centre advanced a company toward the enemy; the advancing company

then made a feint of retreat, the deceived Indians followed close after

and fell into the ambuscade. The outwitted savages were completely

routed and fled in hopeless confusion. Bouquet had won one of the

greatest victories in Western Indian warfare. His loss was about one

hundred fifty men, nearly a third of his army. The loss of the Indians

was not so great.

As rapidly as possible Bouquet pushed on to Fort Pitt, which he entered

without molestation on August 25th. The extent and the end of Pontiac's

conspiracy had at last been reached. The Pennsylvania Assembly, and King

George, even, formally thanked Bouquet.

Forts Detroit and Pitt, as has been seen, proved impregnable; neither

the evil cunning nor the persistent bravery of the savage could dislodge

the occupants of those important posts. The siege of Detroit had been

abandoned by the combined forces of Pontiac, but the country round

about continued to be infested with the hostile Indians, who kept up a

sort of petty bushwhacking campaign that compelled the soldiers and

traders of the fort, for safety, to remain "in doors" during the winter

of 1763-1764. Bouquet, on gaining Fort Pitt, desired to pursue the

marauding and murderous savages to their forest retreats and drive them

hence, but he was unable to accomplish anything until the following

year.

In the spring of 1764 Sir Jeffrey Amherst resigned his office, and

General Thomas Gage succeeded him as commander-in-chief of the British

forces in America, with head-quarters in Boston. Shortly after assuming

office, General Gage determined to send two armies from different points

into the heart of the Indian country. The first, under Bouquet, was to

advance from Fort Pitt into the midst of the Delaware and Shawano

settlements of the Ohio Valley; and the other, under Bradstreet, was to

pass from Fort Niagara up the Lakes and force the tribes of Detroit and

the region round about to unconditional submission.

Colonel John Bradstreet left Fort Niagara in July, 1764, with the

formidable force of over a thousand soldiers. In canoes and _bateaux_

this imposing army of British regulars coasted along the shore of Lake

Erie, stopping at various points to meet and treat with the Indians,

who, realizing their inability to cope with so powerful an antagonist,

made terms of peace or went through the pretence of so doing. At

Sandusky (Fort), particularly, Bradstreet accepted the false promises of

the Wyandots, Ottawas, Miamis, Delawares, and Shawanoes. On August 26th

he arrived at Detroit, to the great joy and relief of the garrison,

which now, for more than a year, had been "cut off from all

communication with their race" and had been virtually prisoners confined

within the walls of their stockade. Bradstreet forwarded small

detachments to restore or retake, as the case might be, the farther

western British posts, which had fallen into the hands of Pontiac's wily

and exultant warriors.

In October (1764) Bouquet, with an army of fifteen hundred troops,

defiled out of Fort Pitt, and, taking the Indian trail westward, boldly

entered the wilderness, "which no army had ever before sought to

penetrate." It was a novel sight, this regiment of regulars, picking

its way through the woods and over the streams to the centre of the Ohio

country. Striking the Tuscarawas River he followed down its banks,

halting at short intervals to confer with delegations of Indians until

October 25th, when he encamped on the Muskingum, near the forks of that

river formed by the confluence of the Tuscarawas and Walhonding rivers.

Here with much display of the pomp and circumstance of war on the part

of Bouquet, to impress and over-awe the savages, he held conferences

with the chiefs of the various tribes. They agreed to lay down their

arms and live for the future in friendship with the white invaders. All

prisoners heretofore taken and then held by the Indians were to be

surrendered to Bouquet. Over two hundred of these, captives, including

women and children, were delivered up, and with these Bouquet, with his

successful soldiery, retraced his course to Fort Pitt, arriving there on

November 28th. It was one of the most memorable expeditions in the

pre-State history of Ohio.

The sudden and surprising victories of Pontiac were being rapidly

undone. The great Ottawa chief saw his partially accomplished scheme

withering into ignominious failure. Sullen, disappointed, consumed with

humiliation and revenge, he withdrew from active prominence to his

forest wigwam. He sought the banks of the Maumee, the scene of his birth

and the location of the villages of many tribes who were his sympathetic

adherents. He did not participate in any of the councils held by

Bradstreet and the chiefs. "His vengeance was unslaked and his purpose

unshaken." But his glory was growing dim and his power was withering

into dust. From the scenes of his promising but short-lived triumphs, he

retired into the country of the Illinois and the Mississippi. He tried

to arouse the aid of the French. He gathered a band of four hundred

warriors on the Maumee, and with these faithful followers revisited the

Western tribes, in hopes of creating another confederation.[54] Not even

would the southern tribes, however, respond to his appeals. All was

lost. His allies were falling off; his followers, discouraged, were

deserting him. Again and again he went back to his chosen haunts and

former faithful followers on the Maumee. But his day had passed.

In the spring of 1766 Pontiac met Sir William Johnson[55] at Oswego. In

his peace speech at that time he said: "I speak in the name of all the

nations westward, of whom I am the master. It is the will of the Great

Spirit that we should meet here to-day; and before him I now take you by

the hand. I call him to witness that I speak from my heart; for since I

took Colonel Croghan[56] by the hand last year, I have never let go my

hold, for I see that the Great Spirit will have us friends.

"Moreover, when our great father, of France, was in this country, I held

him fast by the hand. Now that he is gone, I take you, my English

father, by the hand, in the name of all the nations, and promise to keep

this covenant as long as I shall live."

But he did not speak from the heart; on the contrary, only from the

head. Leaving the Oswego conference, "his canoe laden with the gifts of

his enemy," Pontiac steered homeward for the Maumee; and in that

vicinity he spent the following winter. From now on for some two years

the great Ottawa chief disappeared as if lost in the forest depths.

In April, 1769, he is found at Fort St. Louis, on the west side of the

Mississippi, where he gave himself mainly to the temporary oblivion of

"fire-water," the dread destroyer of his race. He was wont to cross the

"Father of Waters" to the fort on the British side at Cahokia, where he

would revel with the friendly creoles. In one of these visits, in the

early morning, after drinking deeply, he strode with uncertain step into

the adjacent forest. He was arrayed in the uniform of a French officer,

which apparel had been given him many years before by the Marquis of

Montcalm. His footsteps were stealthily dogged by a Kaskaskia Indian,

who in the silence and seclusion of the forest, at an opportune moment,

buried the blade of a tomahawk in the brain of the Ottawa conqueror, the

champion of his race.

The murderer had been bribed to the heinous act by a British trader

named Williamson, who thought to thus rid his country (England) of a

dangerous foe. The unholy price of the assassination was a barrel of

liquor. It was supposed that the Illinois, Kaskaskia, Peoria, and

Cahokia Indians were more or less guilty as accomplices in the horrible

deed. That an Illinois Indian was guilty of the act was sufficient. The

Sacs and Foxes, and other Western tribes friendly to Pontiac and his

cause were aroused to furious revenge. They went upon the warpath

against the Illinois Indians. A relentless war ensued, and, says

Parkman, "over the grave of Pontiac more blood was poured out in

atonement than flowed from the veins of the slaughtered heroes on the

corpse of Patroclus."

The body of the murdered chief was borne across the river and buried

near Fort St. Louis. No monument ever marked the resting-place of the

great hero and defender of his people.

FOOTNOTES:

[45] Estimate of Sir William Johnson in 1763: Iroquois, 1950; Delawares,

600; Shawnees, 300; Wyandots, 450; Miamis and Kickapoos, 800; Ottawas,

Ojibwas, and other wandering tribes of the Northwest "defy all efforts

at enumeration." The British population in the colonies was then about

1,000,000; the French, something like 100,000.

[46] Rogers called this river Chocage. Rogers' camp was on the present

site of the city of Cleveland.

[47] Parkman says he was about fifty years old when he met Major Rogers,

which was in 1760.

[48] Chief Richardville also asserted that Pontiac was born of an Ottawa

father and a Miami mother. The probability of this tradition is allowed

by Knapp, and accepted by Dr. C.E. Slocum, of Defiance, a very careful

and reliable authority. Dodge says some claimed Pontiac was a Catawba

prisoner, adopted into the Ottawa tribe.

[49] Detroit was first settled by Cadillac, July 24, 1701, with fifty

soldiers and fifty artisans and traders. So it had been the chief

Western stronghold of the French for one hundred fifty years. Detroit at

this time (1760) contained about two thousand inhabitants. The centre of

the settlement was a fortified town, known as the "Fort," to distinguish

it from the dwellings scattered along the river-banks. The Fort stood on

the western bank of the river and contained about a hundred small wood

houses with bark or thatch-straw roofs. These primitive dwellings were

packed closely together and surrounded and protected by a palisade about

twenty-five feet high; at each corner was a wooden bastion, and a

block-house was erected over each gateway. The only public buildings in

the enclosure were a council-house, the barracks, and a rude little

church.

[50] There are many versions of the divulging of the plot; one that it

was by an old squaw; another that a young squaw of doubtful character

told it to one of the subordinate officers; still another, that it was

by an Ottawa warrior. Parkman seems to favor the Ojibwa girl, called

Catherine, and said to be the mistress of Gladwyn.

[51] True to his Indian nature, Pontiac determined to assume a mask of

peace and bide his time. Gladwyn wrote as follows to Lord Jeffrey

Amherst: "This moment I received a message from Pontiac telling me that

he should send to all the nations concerned in the war to bury the

hatchet; and he hopes your excellency will forget what has passed."--ED.

[52] This post of St. Joseph was the site of a Roman Catholic mission

founded about the year 1700. Here was one of the most prominent French

military posts.

[53] There were several forts called Miami in those early days. This one

was built in 1749-1750 by the French commandant, Raimond.

[54] Pontiac sought the aid of the Kickapoos, Piankishaws, Sacs, Foxes,

Dakotas, Missouris, and other tribes on the Mississippi and its

head-waters.

[55] Sir William Johnson was at this time superintendent of Indian

affairs in the North (of the colonies) by appointment from the King.

Johnson was a great favorite with the Indians, and exerted great power

over them, especially among the Six Nations. He married a sister of

Brant, the Mohawk chief; he was, moreover, adopted into the Mohawk tribe

and made a sachem.

[56] George Croghan was a deputy Indian agent under Sir William Johnson.

In 1765, at the instance of Johnson, Croghan proceeded from Fort Pitt

down the Ohio to the mouth of the Wabash, up which he journeyed and

thence across the country to Detroit, treating with the Indians as he

passed. On this journey Croghan met Pontiac, who made promises of peace

and friendship.

AMERICAN COLONIES OPPOSE THE STAMP ACT

PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH

A.D. 1765

JAMES GRAHAME GEORGE BANCROFT

Although the Stamp Act passed by the English Parliament in 1765 was

repealed in the following year, the opposition which led to its

repeal became also one of the principal causes of the American

Revolution. The passage of this act and the laying of its

impositions upon the colonies formed the climax of England's

mercantile policy there, where irritating revenue laws had already,

as in Massachusetts, for some years been in force.

In 1763 England determined to levy upon the colonies direct taxes,

not only for their own military defence, but also as a contribution

to the payment of the British war debt. George Grenville, who, says

Macaulay, knew of "no national interests except those which are

expressed by pounds, shillings, and pence," became prime minister in

1763. His first measure was that known as the "Molasses or [Sugar]

Act," reviving an old law for enforcement in the American colonies.

The act was meant to "protect" West Indian sugar-planters, and it

laid a heavy duty upon all sugar and molasses imported into North

America from the French West Indies.

The outbreak of indignation, especially in New England, against this

imposition was a prelude to the more general and determined

resistance to the Stamp Act, which was Grenville's second obnoxious

measure. The history of "Grenville's Stamp Act" is adequately set

forth by Grahame and Bancroft, whose respective accounts present its

most important features and its fate in the hands of American

patriots.

JAMES GRAHAME

The calamities of the French and Indian War (1755) had scarcely ended

when the germ of another war was planted which soon grew up and produced

deadly fruit. At that time sundry resolutions passed the British

Parliament relative to the imposition of a stamp duty in America, which

gave a general alarm. By them the right, the equity, the policy, and

even the necessity of taxing the colonies were formally avowed. These

resolutions, being considered as the preface of a system of American

revenue, were deemed an introduction to evils of much greater magnitude.

They opened a prospect of oppression, boundless in extent and endless in

duration. They were, nevertheless, not immediately followed by any

legislative act. Time and an invitation were given to the Americans to

suggest any other mode of taxation that might be equivalent in its

produce to the Stamp Act; but they objected not only to the mode, but

the principle; and several of their assemblies, though in vain,

petitioned against it.

An American revenue was, in England, a very popular measure. The cry in

favor of it was so strong as to silence the voice of petitions to the

contrary. The equity of compelling the Americans to contribute to the

common expenses of the empire satisfied many who, without inquiring into

the policy or justice of taxing their unrepresented fellow-subjects,

readily assented to the measures adopted by the Parliament for this

purpose. The prospect of easing their own burdens at the expense of the

colonists dazzled the eyes of gentlemen of landed interest, so as to

keep out of their view the probable consequences of the innovation. The

omnipotence of Parliament was so familiar a phrase on both sides of the

Atlantic that few in America, and still fewer in Great Britain, were

impressed, in the first instance, with any idea of the illegality of

taxing the colonists.

Illumination on that subject was gradual. The resolutions in favor of an

American stamp act, which passed in March, 1764, met with no opposition.

In the course of the year which intervened between these resolutions and

the passing of a law grounded upon them, the subject was better

understood, and constitutional objections against the measure were urged

by several, both in Great Britain and America. This astonished and

chagrined the British ministry; but as the principle of taxing America

had been for some time determined upon, they were unwilling to give it

up. Impelled by partiality for a long-cherished idea, Grenville, in

March, 1765, brought into the House of Commons his long-expected bill

for laying a stamp duty in America. By this, after passing through the

usual forms, it was enacted that the instruments of writing in daily use

among a commercial people should be null and void unless they were

executed on stamped paper or parchment, charged with a duty imposed by

the British Parliament.

When the bill was brought in, Charles Townshend concluded a speech in

its favor with words to the following effect: "And now will these

Americans, children planted by our care, nourished up by our indulgence,

till they are grown to a degree of strength and opulence, and protected

by our arms--will they grudge to contribute their mite to relieve us

from the heavy weight of that burden which we lie under?" To which

Colonel Barre replied: "They planted by your care? No, your oppressions

planted them in America! They fled from tyranny to a then uncultivated

and inhospitable country, where they exposed themselves to almost all

the hardships to which human nature is liable; and, among others, to the

cruelty of a savage foe the most subtle, and I will take upon me to say

the most formidable, of any people upon the face of God's earth! And

yet, actuated by principles of true English liberty, they met all

hardships with pleasure, compared with those they suffered in their own

country from the hand of those that should have been their friends.

"They nourished up by your indulgence? They grew by your neglect of

them! As soon as you began to care about them, that care was exercised

in sending persons to rule them, in one department and another, who

were, perhaps, the deputies of deputies to some members in this House,

sent to spy out their liberties, to misrepresent their actions, and to

prey upon them: men whose behavior on many occasions has caused the

blood of those sons of liberty to recoil within them; men promoted to

the highest seats of justice--some who to my knowledge were glad, by

going to a foreign country, to escape being brought to the bar of a

court of justice in their own.

"They protected by your arms? They have nobly taken up arms in your

defence, have exerted a valor, amid their constant and laborious

industry, for the defence of a country whose frontier was drenched in

blood, while its interior parts yielded all its little savings to your

emolument. And, believe me, that same spirit of freedom which actuated

these people at first will accompany them still: but prudence forbids me

to explain myself further. God knows I do not at this time speak from

any motives of party heat. I deliver the genuine sentiments of my

heart. However superior to me, in general knowledge and experience, the

respectable body of this House may be, yet I claim to know more of

America than most of you; having seen and been conversant in that

country. The people, I believe, are as truly loyal as any subjects the

King has; but a people jealous of their liberties, and who will

vindicate them if ever they should be violated: but the subject is too

delicate. I will say no more."

During the debate on the bill, the supporters of it insisted much on the

colonies being virtually represented in the same manner as Leeds,

Halifax, and some other towns were. A recurrence to this plea was a

virtual acknowledgment that there ought not to be taxation without

representation. It was replied that the connection between the electors

and non-electors of Parliament, in Great Britain, was so interwoven from

both being equally liable to pay the same common tax as to give some

security of property to the latter: but with respect to taxes laid by

the British Parliament, and paid by the Americans, the situation of the

parties was reversed. Instead of both parties bearing a proportional

share of the same common burden, what was laid on the one was exactly so

much taken off from the other.

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