THE BATTLE AND DEFEAT
On the issue of Hull's campaign hung the fate of Fort Dearborn. With
the Indian, war was a passion, at once his greatest pleasure and his
chief business in life. He could not remain an idle spectator of such
a war as had now been joined between the white races, but must be a
participant on one side or the other. The exhortations of the Americans
that the red man hold aloof from the war, which did not concern him,
and let the whites fight out their own quarrel, would be heeded only on
one condition. The Americans must manifest such a decided superiority
over the British as to convince him that theirs was the successful
cause. Both disposition and self-interest urged the Indian to take his
stand on the winning side. As long as appearances led him to believe
that this was the American, he would hold aloof from the war, since the
United States did not desire his assistance. In the contrary event both
inclination and self-interest would lead him to side with the British.
There were exceptions, of course, to these generalizations. Tecumseh's
hostility to the Americans was independent of any such adventitious
circumstances. But with Hull triumphant at Maiden the tribes to the
west of Lake Michigan would have possessed neither the courage nor the
inclination to rise against the Americans; with the British flag waving
over Detroit the whole Northwest as far as the Maumee River and the
settlements of southern Indiana and Illinois would, as Hull pointed out
to the government before the war began, pass under British control.[566]
[Footnote 566: _Drennan Papers_, Hull to Eustis, March 6, 1812.]
Alarming reports of Indian hostility and depredations came to Chicago
during the winter of 1812. Early in March Captain Heald received
news from a Frenchman at Milwaukee of hostilities committed by the
Winnebagoes on the Mississippi.[567] On April 6 a band of marauders
who were believed to belong to the same tribe made a descent upon
Chicago.[568] Shortly before sunset eleven Indians appeared at the
farm of Russell and Lee some three or four miles from the fort up
the South Branch. Lee is said to have settled at Chicago about the
year 1805, having received the contract to supply the garrison with
provisions.[569] He lived with his family a short distance southwest
of the fort, and carried on his farming operations at the place on
the South Branch which was later known as Hardscrabble. Russell was
evidently the partner of Lee, but aside from this fact nothing is
known about him. The farm was under the immediate superintendence of
an American named Liberty White, who had lived at Chicago for some
time.[570] At the time of the descent of the marauding war party there
were three other persons, in addition to White, at the farmhouse, a
soldier of the garrison named John Kelso,[571] a boy whose name no one
has taken the trouble to record, and a Canadian Frenchman, John B.
Cardin, who had but recently come to Chicago.
[Footnote 567: _American State Papers, Indian Affairs_, I, 806.]
[Footnote 568: Short reports of the attack by Matthew Irwin and by
Captain Heald are printed in Wentworth, _Early Chicago_, 49-50. Longer
and more valuable accounts are contained in the letters of Heald
and John La Lime to Captain William Wells, dated April 15 and 13
respectively, printed in the _Louisiana Gazette_ for May 30, 1812. I
have made use of the copies of these letters made by Lyman C. Draper,
in the Draper Collection, S, Vol. XXVI. The best known account is Mrs.
Kinzie's narrative in _Wau Bun_, 155-60, but its statements require
verification.]
[Footnote 569: Statement of William R. Head in his _Annals of Chicago_,
MS owned by his widow. I have not been able to verify it.]
[Footnote 570: _Wau Bun_, 157. That his first name was Liberty is
stated by Heald. That he had lived at Chicago for some time is evident
from the occurrence of his name in Kinzie's account books.]
[Footnote 571: La Lime's letter to Wells, as printed in the _Louisiana
Gazette_, May 30, 1812, gives the name of John Kelson. From the
similarity of names I infer that the man was John Kelso, a private in
Heald's company.]
Soon after the arrival of the visitors Kelso and the boy, not liking
the aspect of affairs, "cleared out" for the fort. White and Cardin,
less apprehensive of a hostile disposition on the part of the Indians,
remained and were shortly murdered. The former was "shockingly
butchered." He was tomahawked and scalped, his face was mutilated and
his throat cut from ear to ear, and he received two balls through his
body and ten knife stabs in his breast and hip. It was with reason that
Heald declared him to be "the most horrible object I ever beheld in my
life." Cardin was shot through the neck and scalped, but his body was
not otherwise mutilated. It was Heald's belief that the Indians "spared
him a little" out of consideration for his nationality.
Following the murder of White and Cardin, the garrison and the civilian
residents of Chicago endured for some time what may fairly be described
as a state of siege.[572] The murderers were supposed to belong to the
Winnebago tribe, but the efforts of the commander to learn from the
neighboring Indians whether the supposition was correct were in vain.
Accordingly he forbade the Indians to come to the place until he should
learn to what nation the murderers belonged. Kinzie moved his family
into the fort, and all of the other residents of the place outside
the garrison fortified themselves in the house formerly occupied by
Jouett, the Indian agent. Those able to bear arms, fifteen in all,
were organized by Heald into a militia company and furnished with
arms and ammunition from the garrison store.[573] Parties of savages
lurked around, and the whites were forced to keep close to the fort to
avoid the danger of losing their scalps. A few days after the murders
three of the militia, two half-breeds and a Frenchman, deserted, thus
reducing the membership of the company to twelve, the number present at
the time of the massacre. The deserters were believed to have gone in
the direction of "Millewakii," taking ten or a dozen horses with them.
[Footnote 572: The narrative at this point is based on the letters of
La Lime and Heald to Captain Wells, April 13 and 15, 1812.]
[Footnote 573: Letter of Heald to Captain Wells, April 15, 1812;
letter of Sergeant William Griffith to Heald, June 13, 1820, Draper
Collection, U, VIII, 88.]
On May 1 Francis Keneaum, a British subject who lived at Maiden,
reached Chicago attended by two Chippewa Indians, en route for Green
Bay.[574] The party was arrested on suspicion that Keneaum was a
British emissary, and he subsequently made an affidavit showing that he
had been engaged by the brother-in-law of Matthew Elliot, the British
Indian agent, to go on a secret mission to Robert Dickson, the most
active and influential British emissary among the tribes west of Lake
Michigan. The Indians had taken the precaution to conceal the letters
intrusted to them in their moccasins and to bury them.[575] After their
release from detention they proceeded on their way and delivered them
to Dickson, who was passing the winter at the Fox-Wisconsin Portage.
The message which Captain Heald thus failed to intercept was from
no less a person than General Brock, who was seeking to establish
communication with Dickson; and it was due to the communication thus
established that Dickson led his northwestern bands to St. Joseph's to
co-operate in the attack on Mackinac, and in that descent upon Detroit
which had such a fatal effect upon Hull's campaign.[576]
[Footnote 574: Edwards, _Life of Ninian Edwards_, 324.]
[Footnote 575: Edwards, _Life of Ninian Edwards_, 333.]
[Footnote 576: This conclusion is based on the letters, in addition to
those already cited, of Captain Glegg to Dickson printed in _Michigan
Pioneer Collections_, XV, 180-82, 193-95, and the communications
between Glegg and Dickson printed in _Wisconsin Historical
Collection_s, XII, 139-40.]
We have seen already[577] how that campaign progressed to its
disastrous close, and that on its issue hung the fate of Fort Dearborn
and the Northwest. With so much of importance in the immediate vicinity
of Detroit to demand his attention, Hull had little time or thought
to devote to the remote posts at Mackinac and Chicago. News of the
declaration of war was received at Fort Dearborn toward the middle of
July.[578] The tradition was current at Chicago long afterward that
the news was brought by Pierre Le Claire, a half-breed who figured in
the negotiations for the surrender of the garrison on the day of the
massacre, who walked from the mouth of the St. Joseph River to Fort
Dearborn, a distance of ninety miles, in a single day.[579]
[Footnote 577: _Supra_, chap. ix.]
[Footnote 578: Lieutenant Helm's narrative of the massacre says July
10.]
[Footnote 579: Hubbard, _Life_, 126-27.]
On July 14 Hull wrote to Eustis, the Secretary of War, that he would
cause the brig, "Adams," which had been launched ten days before, to be
completed and armed as soon as possible for the purpose of supplying
the posts of Mackinac and Fort Dearborn with the necessary stores and
provisions, if they could be obtained at Detroit.[580] Exactly two
weeks later, however, two Chippewa Indians reached Hull's camp at
Sandwich bringing news of the surrender of Mackinac. The report seemed
so improbable that at first Hull refused to believe it, but close
questioning brought forth so many circumstantial details as to remove
his doubt. On the same day, July 29, he wrote to the Secretary of War,
"I shall immediately send an express to Fort Dearborn with orders to
evacuate that post and retreat to this place or Fort Wayne, provided
it can be effected with a greater prospect of safety than to remain.
Captain Heald is a judicious officer, and I shall confide much to his
discretion."[581]
[Footnote 580: _Drennan Papers_, Hull to Eustis, July 14 and 19, 1812.]
[Footnote 581: _Ibid._, Hull to Eustis, July 29, 1812.]
With the evacuation impending, we come upon some of the most important
questions in the history of Fort Dearborn. The nature of Hull's order
for the evacuation, the demeanor of the savages around the fort
immediately prior to the evacuation, the relations subsisting between
Captain Heald and the officers and men under his control, the degree
of sanity and sense displayed by the commander in dealing with the
difficult situation which confronted him--all these things require
careful consideration. In the accounts of the massacre that have
been written hitherto, these matters have commonly been presented in
such a way as to place the responsibility for the tragedy solely on
Captain Heald's shoulders, and to represent his administration of
affairs as stupid and incompetent to the verge of imbecility. But
there is abundant reason for suspecting that these accounts, which
all proceed, directly or indirectly from a common source, do Heald
grave injustice.[582] If an examination of the available sources of
information confirms this suspicion it is quite time, a century after
the massacre, to correct the popular impression of the affair and do
belated justice to the leader of civilization's forlorn hope on that
day of savage triumph.
[Footnote 582: See, on this point, Appendix II.]
Hull's letter to Eustis of July 29 expressed an intention to confide
much to Heald's discretion in the matter of the evacuation. But his
letter to Heald, although written on the same day, does not fulfil
this intention. The order to evacuate was positive,[583] and the
reason assigned for this step was a want of provisions. Heald was also
peremptorily enjoined to destroy the arms and ammunition. The only
thing confided to his discretion was the disposition of the goods of
the government factory, which he was authorized to give to the friendly
Indians, and to the poor and needy of the settlement.
[Footnote 583: Lost to the world for almost a century, Hull's order was
brought to light a few years since among the Heald papers in the Draper
Collection at Madison, Wisconsin. It was first published by the author
in "Some Notes on the Fort Dearborn Massacre," in the _Mississippi
Valley Historical Association, Proceedings for 1910-11_, 138. The order
reads as follows:
Sandwich July 29th 1812
_Capt. Nat. Heald._
Sir:--It is with regret I order the Evacuation of your Post owing
to the want of Provisions only a neglect of the Commandant of [word
illegible-possibly Detroit].
You will therefore Destroy all arms & ammunition, but the Goods of the
Factory you may give to the Friendly Indians who may be desirous of
Escorting you on to Fort Wayne & to the Poor & needy of your Post. I
am informed this day that Makinac & the Island of St. Joseph will be
Evacuated on acct of the scarcity of Provision & I hope in my next to
give you an acct. of the Surrender of the British at Maiden as I Expect
600 men here by the beginning of Sept.
I am Sir
Yours &c
Brigadier Gen. Hull.
Addressed; Capt. Nathan Heald, Commander Fort Dearborn by Express.
]
Unfortunately for Captain Heald's reputation with posterity, the
evacuation order was lost to sight for almost a century. Lieutenant
Helm's labored account of the massacre, written in 1814, states
that the order to Heald was "to Evacuate the Post of Fort Dearborne
by the route of Detroit or Fort Wayne if Practicable."[584] Helm's
narrative, like the evacuation order, was unknown to the public for
almost a century; his version of Hull's order, however, was preserved
in the form of tradition in the family of Kinzie, the trader, to
which Mrs. Helm belonged, and thus after the lapse of a third of a
century it appeared in print in Mrs. Juliette Kinzie's account of the
massacre[585] which was afterward incorporated in her book, _Wau Bun_.
[Footnote 584: Appendix VI.]
[Footnote 585: According to Mrs. Kinzie the order was "to evacuate the
fort, if practicable, and in that event, to distribute all the United
States' property contained in the fort, and in the United States'
factory or agency, among the Indians in the neighborhood." _Wau Bun_,
162.]
[Illustration: GENERAL HULL'S ORDER FOR THE EVACUATION OF FORT DEARBORN
(By courtesy of the Wisconsin State Historical Society)]
The evacuation order closed with the expression by Hull of the hope,
destined never to be realized, of being able to announce in his next
communication the surrender of the British at Maiden. Instead of this,
on August 8 he abandoned Sandwich and recrossed the river to Detroit.
The next day the Indian runner. Winnemac, delivered to Captain Heald at
Fort Dearborn his order for the evacuation.[586] Hull also sent word of
the intended evacuation to Fort Wayne, ordering the officers there to
co-operate in the movement by rendering Captain Heald any information
and assistance in their power.[587] In consequence of this Captain
William Wells, the famous Indian scout, set out for Fort Dearborn at
the head of thirty Miami warriors to assist in covering Heald's retreat.
[Footnote 586: Heald's Journal, Appendix III; his report of the
massacre, Appendix IV; Lieutenant Helm's narrative of the massacre,
Appendix VI.]
[Footnote 587: Heald's report, Appendix IV; Brice, _History of Fort
Wayne_, 206.]
The days following the ninth of August were, we may well believe,
filled with care and busy preparation for Captain Heald and all the
white people in and around Fort Dearborn. Their situation in the heart
of the wilderness was an appalling one, well calculated to tax the
judgment and abilities of Heald, on whose wisdom and energy the fate of
all depended, to the utmost. Apparently Kinzie sought to dissuade Heald
from obeying Hull's order to evacuate. There must be powerful reasons
to justify him in taking this step, yet if sufficiently convincing
ones pertaining to the safety of the garrison existed, it is clear
that Heald should have assumed the responsibility on the ground that
the order had been issued in ignorance of the facts of the situation
confronting the Fort Dearborn garrison.
There were several reasons to be urged against an evacuation. The
fort was well situated for defense. With the garrison at hand it
could probably be held indefinitely against an attack by Indians
alone, providing the supply of ammunition and provisions held out. The
surrounding Indians outnumbered the garrison ten to one, it is true,
but success against such odds when the whites were sheltered behind
a suitable stockade was not unusual in the annals of border warfare.
The red man possessed little taste for besieging a fortified place,
and if the first assault were beaten off, his lack both of artillery
and of resolution to persevere in such a contest rendered his success
improbable, unless the odds were overwhelmingly in his favor, or the
provisions of the besieged gave out. Moreover, whatever the odds might
be at Fort Dearborn, the probability of making a successful defense
behind the walls of the stockade was immeasurably greater than it would
be in the open country. Both Governor Edwards of Illinois and Harrison
of Indiana were vigorous executives, and if the fort were held, relief
might reasonably be expected before long from the militia which was
then being collected in southern Illinois and Indiana, or even from
Kentucky.
The situation was complicated, too, by the private interests at stake.
Evacuation would mean financial ruin to Kinzie, the trader, and Lee,
the farmer. These considerations Heald properly ignored of course.
But the danger to the families of the soldiers and of the civilians
clustered around the fort was greater and more appalling than to the
garrison itself. There could be no thought of abandoning these helpless
souls, yet the attempt to convey them away with the garrison would
render the retreat exceedingly slow and cumbersome. Kinzie at Chicago
and Forsyth at Peoria were well known and esteemed by the resident
natives, and many of these were well disposed toward the Americans;
the hostile bands might be expected to disperse after a period of
unsuccessful siege, and the property of the settlers and the lives of
the garrison would be saved.
On the other hand, most of these things were as familiar to Hull as
to Heald himself. Practically the only feature of Heald's situation
about which Hull's knowledge might be presumed to be deficient was
that concerning the number and demeanor of the Indians around Fort
Dearborn. But in the provision of his order authorizing Heald to
distribute the goods of the factory "to the Friendly Indians who may
be desirous of escorting you on to Fort Wayne" was a clear indication
of the commanding general's will in case this contingency should be
realized. Obedience to orders is the primary duty of a soldier. He
may not refrain from executing the order of his superior, however ill
advised it may appear to him, unless it is evident that it was issued
under a misapprehension of the facts of the situation, and that the
commander himself, if aware of these facts, would revoke it. The truth
of this proposition is so obvious that it would scarcely be worth while
to state it, were it not for the fact that there has been a practically
unanimous chorus of condemnation of Captain Heald on the part of those
who have hitherto written of the Fort Dearborn massacre because he
acted in accordance with it and obeyed his superior's order. Heald's
own view of his duty is clear, both from the course he followed and
from the narratives of himself and of his detractors. The latter shows
that he paid no attention to the protests against the evacuation made
by Kinzie and such others as the trader was able to influence; while
in his own official report of the massacre Heald does not even discuss
the question of holding the fort or of his reason for evacuating it,
further than to recite the order received from Hull to do so.
The time until the thirteenth of August was doubtless spent in
preparation for the wilderness journey, though actual details are for
the most part wanting. Some slight indication of the commander's labors
is afforded by an affidavit he made in 1817 in behalf of Kinzie and
Forsyth's claims against the government for compensation for the losses
sustained by them in the massacre. In this Heald stated that, being
ordered to evacuate Fort Dearborn and march the troops to Fort Wayne,
he employed sundry horses and mules, with saddles, bridles, and other
equipment, the property of Kinzie and Forsyth, to transport provisions
and other necessities for the troops.[588] On August 13 Captain Wells
arrived from Fort Wayne with his thirty Miami warriors to act as an
additional escort for the troops in their retreat. Probably on this
day a council was held with the Indians at which Heald announced his
intention to distribute the goods among them and evacuate the fort,
and stipulated for their protection upon his retreat.[589] On the
fourteenth the goods in the factory were delivered to the Indians,
together with a considerable quantity of provisions which could not be
taken along on the retreat. The stock of liquor was destroyed, however,
as were also the surplus arms and ammunition. The one was calculated to
fire the red man to deeds of madness, while for the whites to give him
the other would have been to furnish him with the means for their own
destruction.
[Footnote 588: Affidavit of December 2, 1817, Draper Collection,
_Forsyth Papers_, Vol. I.]
[Footnote 589: Heald's report does not mention the holding of a
council; Helm's narrative represents that Wells held the council
with the Indians. This is probably correct as to the main fact that
a council was held, but untrue in representing Wells, rather than
Heald, as the principal participant in it on the part of the whites. A
few months after the massacre the Superintendent of Indian Trade was
initiating measures for recovering from the War Department indemnity
for the goods of the Chicago factory destroyed at the time of the
massacre on the ground that they were delivered by Heald to the Indians
"under a kind of treaty" between the two (Indian Office, Letter Book C,
Mason to Matthew Irwin, February 9, 1813).]
To the resentment kindled among the Indians by the destruction of these
stores the immediate cause of the attack and massacre on the following
day has often been ascribed. That the disappointment of the red man was
keen is self-evident. Yet that but for the destruction of the powder
and whisky there would have been no attack on the garrison seems most
improbable. Heald stated under oath several years later that prior
to the evacuation the Indians had made "much application" to him for
ammunition, and expressed the opinion that but for the destruction
which took place not a soul among the whites would have escaped the
tomahawk.[590]
[Footnote 590: Affidavit of December 2, 1817, Draper Collection,
_Forsyth Papers_, Vol. I.]
All was now ready for the departure, which was to take place on the
morning of the fifteenth. At this juncture there came to the commander
a belated warning. Black Partridge, a Pottawatomie chief from the
Illinois River, came to him with the significant message that "linden
birds" had been singing in his ears and they ought to be careful on
the march they were about to make. At the same time he surrendered his
medal, explaining that the young warriors were bent on mischief and
probably could not be restrained.[591]
[Footnote 591: There are two contemporary versions of this incident;
one is contained in Lieutenant Helm's narrative of the massacre, the
other in McAfee's _History of the Late War_, 98. McAfee's informant
was Sergeant Griffith of Heald's company. Both of the accounts are
very brief. They agree in the main fact that Black Partridge gave the
warning to the interpreter, but Helm alone mentions the surrender of
the medal.]
It was now too late to withdraw from the plan of evacuating the fort,
even if the commander had desired to do so. The next morning dawned
warm and cloudless. Inside the stockade the last preparations for the
toilsome journey had been made. No chronicler was present to preserve
a record of the final scenes, but the imagination can find little
difficulty in picturing them. With all its rudeness and privation,
the Chicago they were leaving was home to the members of the little
party--for some the only one they had ever known. Here the Lees had
lived for half a dozen years; here their children had been born, and
had passed their happy childhood. Here the Kinzies had lived for an
even longer time, and had long since attained a relative degree of
prosperity. Here the soldiers had hunted and skated and fished, and
gone through their monotonous routine duties until they had become
second nature to them. Here the talented young Van Voorhis had dreamed
dreams and seen visions of the teeming millions that were to compose
the busy civilization of this region in the distant future. Hither in
the spring of 1811 the commander had brought his beautiful Kentucky
bride, the niece of Captain Wells; here, true to her ancestry, she had
fallen in love with the wilderness life; and here, three months before,
her life had been darkened by its first great tragedy, the loss of
her first-born son, "born dead for the want of a skilful Midwife." We
may not know the thoughts or forebodings that filled the mind of each
member of the little wilderness caravan, but doubtless home was as
dear, and anxiety for the future as keen, to the humbler members of the
party as to any of those whose names are better known.
Without, in the marshes and prairies and woods that stretched away
from the fort to south and west and north, the representatives of
another race were encamped. Several hundred red warriors, many of
them accompanied by their squaws and children, had gathered about the
doomed garrison. For them, doubtless, the preceding days had been
filled with eager debate and anticipation. The former had concerned
the momentous question whether to heed the advice of the Americans
to remain neutral in the war between the white nations, or whether
to follow their natural inclination to raise the hatchet against the
hated Long Knives and in behalf of their former Great Father. The
latter had hinged about the visions of wealth hitherto undreamed of to
flow from the distribution of the white man's stores among them; or
about the prospect, equally pleasing to the majority, of taking sweet
if belated revenge for the long train of disasters and indignities
they had suffered at the hands of the hated race by the slaughter of
its representatives gathered here within their grasp. As day by day
the runners came from the Detroit frontier with news of the ebbing
of Hull's fortunes and with appeals from Tecumseh to strike a blow
for their race, the peace party among them dwindled, doubtless, as
did the hope of Hull's army. Now, at the critical moment, on the eve
of the evacuation when, if ever, the blow must be struck, had come a
final message from Tecumseh with news of Hull's retreat to Detroit and
of the decisive victory of August 4 over a portion of his troops at
Brownstown. With this the die was cast, and the fate of the garrison
sealed. The war bands could no longer be restrained by the friendly
chiefs, to whom was left the role of watching what they could not
prevent and saving such of their friends as they might from destruction.
And now the stage is set for Chicago's grimmest tragedy. Before us
are the figures of her early days. Let us pause a moment to take note
of some of the actors before the curtain is lifted for the drama.
John Kinzie, the trader, vigorous and forceful and shrewd, with more
at stake financially than anyone else in the company, but, of vastly
greater importance, with a surer means of protection for the lives of
himself and family in the friendship of the Indians. Chandonnai, the
half-breed, staunch friend of the Americans, whom all authorities unite
in crediting with noble exertions to save the prisoners. The friendly
Pottawatomie chiefs, Alexander Robinson, who was to pilot the Healds to
safety at Mackinac, and Black Partridge, who had warned Captain Heald
of the impending attack, and who soon would save the life of Mrs. Helm.
Among the hostile leaders were Black Bird, probably the son of the
chief who had assisted the Americans in plundering St. Joseph in 1781;
and Nuscotnemeg, or the Mad Sturgeon, already guilty of many murders
committed against the whites.[592] There were, of course, many other
chiefs of greater or less degree and reputation. Then there were the
officers and their wives. Heald, the commander, old in experience and
responsibility if not in years; his beautiful and spirited young wife,
whose charm could stay the descent of the deadly tomahawk, and whose
bravery extort the admiration of even her savage captors; Lieutenant
Helm and his young wife, who preferred to meet the impending danger by
the side of her husband. Of the younger men, Van Voorhis and Ronan,
the former has left of himself a winning picture sketched in a letter
a fragment of which has been preserved;[593] the latter is painted in
the only description we have of him, in the pages of _Wau Bun_, as
brave and spirited, but rash and overbearing and lacking a due sense of
respect for his superiors in age and responsibility. These faults of
youth, if in fact they existed, were soon to be atoned by the bravery
with which he met his fate, fighting desperately to the end.
[Footnote 592: _Wisconsin Historical Collections_, XI, 320; Washburne,
_Edwards Papers_, 57.]
[Footnote 593: For it see pp. 196, 387.]
Sadder, however, than any of these was the situation of some of the
humbler members of the party. That a soldier and officer should face
death with composure was to be expected; that a soldier's wife should
brave danger by his side was not an unknown thing in the annals of the
frontier. But the officers' wives were mounted, and whatever might
happen on the weary march, they were certain to receive the best care
and attention the resources of the company could afford. There were,
too, in their case no children for whom to provide or worry. But
what of the state of mind of those members of the Chicago "militia,"
who in addition to abandoning their homes were burdened with wives
and children, and with inadequate means of providing for them? What
of Mrs. Burns and Mrs. Simmons with their babes of a few months and
the hardships of the march before them? What of the other mothers'
forebodings for their loved ones? What of the wife of Fielding Corbin,
with the pangs of approaching maternity upon her and the prospect of
the dreary journey before her? Perhaps it was a mercy a period was so
soon to be put to her trials. Finally, what of the innocent babies
whose bright eyes were looking out, doubtless, in uncomprehending
wonder, upon the unwonted scene of bustle and excitement around them?
With them but not of them was William Wells, the famous frontier
scout, the true history of whose life surpasses fiction.[594] Member
of a prominent Kentucky family, the brother of Colonel Samuel Wells of
Louisville, he was kidnapped at an early age by the Indians and adopted
into the family of Little Turtle, the noted Miami chieftain. He became
a noted warrior and fought by the side of his red brothers in the
campaigns of 1790 and 1791, when they defeated the armies of Harmar and
St. Clair. Afterward, whether because of a belated consciousness of his
true race identity or of the solicitations of his white relatives and
the pleading of his beautiful niece, Rebekah Wells, he threw in his lot
with the whites. His fame as a scout and fighter soon became as great
among them as it had formerly been with the Indians. He was a perfect
master of woodcraft and of the Indian mode of warfare, and as head of a
special force of scouts he rendered most efficient service in Wayne's
campaign.
[Footnote 594: On the career of Wells see Kirkland, _Chicago Massacre_,
173-78; Roosevelt, _Winning of the West_, IV, 79 ff.; Wentworth, _Early
Chicago_, 45-46, 56-57; speech of Little Turtle in _American State
Papers, Indian Affairs_, I, 583; letter of Governor Harrison to the
War Department, October 3, 1809, MS copy in Chicago Historical Society
library.]
Perhaps the most notable tribute to his character is the fact that
despite this change of allegiance he continued to retain the esteem
of his former associates; and that in this period of fierce rivalry
between the two races he enjoyed at one and the same time the esteem
and confidence of such men as Little Turtle on the one side and Anthony
Wayne and William Henry Harrison on the other. At the conclusion of
the Treaty of Greenville Little Turtle made a speech on behalf of the
Indians, expressing his satisfaction with it; in the course of which,
adverting to the subject of the traders, he especially requested
that Wells be stationed by the government at Fort Wayne as resident
interpreter, saying that he possessed the confidence of the Indians as
fully as he did that of the whites. Fort Wayne remained his place of
residence for the remainder of his life and during most of the time he
was serving in the government Indian Department. In 1807 Nathan Heald
came to Fort Wayne as commander of the post, and here met and wooed
Rebekah, the daughter of Samuel, and favorite niece of William Wells.
Now at the summons of love and duty, heedless of the danger to himself,
the latter had hastened with his friendly Miamis from Fort Wayne to
rescue her and assist in the retreat of the garrison. He alone of
all the company, therefore, was present from choice rather than from
necessity. His arrival at Fort Dearborn on the thirteenth must have
afforded the only ray of cheer and hope which came to the settlement in
this time of trial and danger.
All preparations being complete, about nine o'clock the stockade gate
was thrown open and there issued forth the saddest procession Michigan
Avenue has ever known.[595] In the lead were a part of the Miamis, and
Wells, their leader, alert and watching keenly for the first signs of
a hostile demonstration. In due array followed the garrison, the women
and children who were able to walk, and the Chicago militia, the rear
being brought up by the remainder of the Miamis. Most of the children,
being too young to walk, rode in one of the wagons, accompanied,
probably, by one or more of the women. Mrs. Heald and Mrs. Helm were
mounted and near or with their husbands though each couple became
separated early in the combat. The other women and children were on
foot around the baggage wagons, which were guarded by Ensign Ronan,
Surgeon Van Voorhis, the soldiers who had families, and the twelve
Chicago militia.
[Footnote 595: The account of the battle and the massacre which
follows is the result of a study of all the known available sources of
information. Since Appendix II is devoted to a consideration of the
principal sources of our knowledge of the massacre, I have deemed it
unnecessary to cite my authority in each instance for the statements
made here.]
The route taken was due south, parallel with the river until its mouth
was reached and then along the beach, not far, probably, from the
present Michigan Avenue, for most of the land to the east has been
filled in since the beginning of modern Chicago. On the right of the
column moved an escort of Pottawatomies. Below the mouth of the river
began a row of sand hills, or ridges, which ran between the prairie and
the beach, parallel to the latter and distant from it about one hundred
yards. When these were reached the soldiers continued along the beach,
while the Pottawatomies disappeared behind the ridges to the right. The
reason for this soon became apparent. When a distance of about a mile
and a half had been traversed by the soldiers Captain Wells, who with
his militia was some distance in advance, discovered that the Indians
had prepared an ambush for the whites and were about to attack them
from their vantage point behind the bank. Aware of a favorable position
for defense a short distance ahead, he rode rapidly back toward the
main body to urge Heald to press forward and occupy it, swinging his
hat in a circle around his head as he went, as a signal that the party
was surrounded. The heads of the warriors now became visible all along
the line, popping up "like turtles out of the water." The troops
immediately charged up the bank, and with a single volley followed home
with a bayonet charge scattered the Indians before them. But this move
proved as futile as it was brave. The Indians gave way in front only to
join their fellows in another place, on the flank or in the rear, and
the fight went on.
Meanwhile a deadlier combat, which we may perhaps think of as a
separate battle, was raging around the wagons in the rear. Here it
was that the real massacre occurred. Apparently in the charge up the
sand hills and in the ensuing movements the main division of the
regulars under Heald became separated from the rear division, and yet
it was precisely here, where the provisions and the helpless women and
children were placed, that protection was most urgently needed. The
Indians, outnumbering the whites almost ten to one, swarmed around,
some, apparently, even coming from the front to share in the easier
contest at this point. Here were the junior officers, Ronan and Van
Voorhis, and here, apparently, Kinzie had elected to stay. Around the
wagons too were the militia, twelve in number, comprising the male
inhabitants of the settlement capable of bearing arms, who had been
organized and armed by Heald at the time of the April murders. The
combat here was furious, being waged hand to hand in an indiscriminate
melee. Fighting desperately with bayonet and musket-butt the militia
were cut down to a man. But one, Sergeant Burns, escaped instant death,
and he, grievously wounded, was slaughtered an hour after the surrender
by an infuriated squaw. Ronan and Van Voorhis shared their fate as did
the regular soldiers, Kinzie being the only white man at the wagons who
survived. Even the soldiers' wives, armed with swords, hacked bravely
away as long as they were able. In the course of the melee two of the
women and most of the children were slain.
The butchery of these unfortunate innocents constitutes the saddest
feature of that gory day. The measure which had been taken to insure
their welfare was responsible for their destruction; for while the
conflict raged hotly, a young fiend broke through the defenders of
the wagons and climbing into the one containing the children quickly
tomahawked all but one of them. Of the women slain one was Mrs. Corbin,
the wife of a private soldier, who is said to have resolved never to be
taken prisoner, dreading more than death the indignities she believed
would be in store for her. Accordingly she fought until she was cut to
pieces. The other was Cicely, Mrs. Heald's negro serving-woman. She
and her infant son, who also perished, afford two of the few instances
of which we have authentic record of negroes being held in slavery at
Chicago.[596]
[Footnote 596: The printed sources of information concerning Cicely and
her child are Darius Heald's narrative of the massacre in _Magazine
of American History_, XXVIII, 111 ff., and the Heald petition to the
Court of Claims for compensation for property lost in the massacre,
in _Chicago Tribune_, December 8, 1883. The author has a memorandum
prepared by Mrs. Heald for the guidance of her son, Darius, on the
occasion of his visit to Chicago in 1855 for the purpose of procuring
testimony in support of the claim for compensation for the Heald
property lost in the massacre. It contains the following allusions to
Cicely and her son: "John Kinzie at Chicago ... he knew the negro girl
Cicely. He came to buy the negro girl offered me $600. he probably
knows about the horses three in number. He knows about the negro woman
being killed and also her male infant killed in the battle by the
Indians Mrs. Baubee [Beaubien] Knew Capt. Heald and his wife and the
negroes and horses which they had in possession at the time of the
defeat, knows of the killing of the negroes Mrs. Helium [Helm] Get
these two Ladies to relate all their knowledge as regards the loss
of the two slaves the horses and other personal property in their
possession...."]
While this slaughter was going on at the wagons Captain Wells, who
had been fighting in front with the main body of troops, seems to
have started back to the scene to engage in a last effort to save the
women and children. His horse was wounded and he himself was shot
through the breast. He bade his niece farewell, when his horse fell,
throwing him prostrate on the ground with one leg caught under its
side. Some Indians approaching, he continued to fire at them, killing
one or more from his prostrate position. An Indian now took aim at him,
seeing which Wells signed to him to shoot, and his stormy career was
ended. The foe paid their sincerest tribute of respect to his bravery
by cutting out his heart and eating it, thinking thus to imbibe the
qualities of its owner in life. Wells was the real hero of the Chicago
massacre, giving his life voluntarily to save his friends. The debt
which Chicago owes to his memory an earlier generation sought to
discharge by giving his name to one of the city's principal streets.
But to its shame a later one robbed him in large part of this honor, by
giving to that portion of the street which runs south of the river the
inappropriate and meaningless designation of Fifth Avenue.
The close of another brave career was dramatic enough to deserve
separate mention. During the battle Sergeant Hayes, who had already
manifested the greatest bravery, engaged in individual combat with an
Indian. The guns of both had been discharged, when the Indian ran up
to him with uplifted tomahawk. Before the warrior could strike Hayes
ran his bayonet into his breast up to the socket, so that he could not
pull it out. In this situation, supported by the bayonet, the Indian
tomahawked him, and the foemen fell dead together, the bayonet still in
the red man's breast.[597]
[Footnote 597: Schoolcraft, _Narrative Journal of Travels from Detroit
... to the Sources of the Mississippi River in the Year 1820_, 392.]
Meanwhile what of Captain Heald and the troops under his immediate
direction? The Miamis had abandoned the Americans at the first sign of
hostilities. After a few minutes of sharp fighting Heald drew off with
such of his men as still survived to a slight elevation on the open
prairie, out of shot of the bank or any other cover. Here he enjoyed a
temporary respite, for the Indians refrained from following him, having
no desire, apparently, to grapple with the regulars at close range in
the open. The fight thus far had lasted only about fifteen minutes,
yet half of the regulars had fallen. Wells and two of the officers
were dead and the other two wounded, and the Americans were hopelessly
beaten. The alternatives before them were to die fighting to the last,
or to surrender and trust to the savages for mercy. After some delay
the Indians sent a half-breed interpreter, who lived near the fort and
was friendly with the garrison, and who in the commencement of the
action had gone over to the Indians in the hope of saving his life, to
make overtures for a surrender. Heald advanced alone toward the Indians
and was met by the interpreter and the chief. Black Bird, who requested
him to surrender, promising to spare the lives of the prisoners. The
soldiers at first opposed the proposition, but after some parleying the
surrender was made, Captain Heald promising, as a further inducement to
the Indians to spare the prisoners, a ransom of one hundred dollars for
every one still living. The captives were now led back to the beach and
thence along the route toward the fort over which they had passed but
an hour or so before. On the way they passed the scene of the massacre
around the wagons. Helm records his horror at the sight of the men,
women, and children "lying naked with principally all their heads off."
In passing the bodies he thought he perceived that of his wife, with
her head severed from her shoulders. The sight almost overcame him, and
we may readily believe that he "now began to repent" that he had ever
surrendered. He was happily surprised, however, on approaching the fort
to find her alive and well, sitting crying among some squaws. She owed
her preservation to the friendly Black Partridge, who had claimed her
as his prisoner.
In the action the white force numbered fifty-five regulars and twelve
militia in addition to Wells and Kinzie, the latter of whom did not
participate in the fighting.[598] Against these were pitted about five
hundred Indians. The white men were better armed, but the Indians
had the advantage of position and of freedom from the incumbrance of
baggage and women and children to protect. Under the circumstances
the odds were overwhelmingly in their favor, and their comparatively
easy victory was but a matter of course. Their loss was estimated by
Heald at about fifteen. The Americans killed in the action comprised
twenty-six regular soldiers, the twelve militia[599] and Captain Wells,
with two of the women and twelve children. A number of the survivors,
too, were wounded.
[Footnote 598: On the number of the regulars and others engaged in the
combat see Appendix IX.]
[Footnote 599: Including Burns, who was wounded in the action and
killed by a squaw about an hour afterward.]
Following the surrender came the customary scenes of savage cruelty.
The friendly Indians could answer only for the prisoners in their
possession. Some of the wounded were tortured to death, and it is
not improbable that some of the prisoners were burned at the stake.
The more detailed story of their fate, along with that of the other
survivors of the battle, is reserved for the following chapter. For
the remainder of the day and the ensuing night the victors surfeited
themselves with the plunder and the torture. The following day the
plundering of the fort and the distribution of the prisoners were
completed, the buildings were fired, and the bands set out for their
several villages. The corpses on the lake shore, bloody and mutilated,
were left to the buzzards and the wolves, and over Chicago silence
and desolation reigned supreme. In March, 1813, Robert Dickson passed
through Chicago on a mission to rouse the northwestern tribes against
the Americans. He reported[600] that there were two brass cannon, one
dismounted, the other on wheels but in the river. The powder magazine
was in a good state of preservation and the houses outside the fort
were well constructed. He urged the Indians not to destroy them, as
the British would have occasion to use them if they should find it
necessary to establish a garrison here.
[Footnote 600: _Michigan Pioneer Collections_, XV, 262.]