JOHN KINZIE'S CAPTIVITY.
We are, and always were (and I hope always will be), anything but a
"military nation." 1813 opened very gloomily for the United States;
but, as our quiet country has shown in several times of trial, it takes
some disaster to wake up Americans to the claims of the land they love
and the government they themselves have made. Bunker Hill was a defeat,
in form, but the patriots only fell back a little way; then halted
and quietly remarked: "We have several more hills to sell at the same
price," the price being such a loss as the British army had rarely met.
The war of 1812 began with the loss of Mackinaw and Detroit on land
and the frigate Chesapeake at sea; but Scott at Chippewa and Lundy's
Lane, Harrison at the Thames and Jackson at New Orleans caused all land
reverses to be forgotten; while Perry's victory on Lake Erie, together
with a splendid cluster of triumphs on the ocean, gave our navy a
lustre which it has never lost or suffered to become tarnished.
Curiously enough, Mr. Kinzie, our own Chicago pioneer, was a witness
to the finish of the glorious day at Put-in-bay, in announcing which
Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry added to our war-cries the immortal
words, "We have met the enemy and they are ours."
Here is Mrs. Kinzie's narrative of the captivity of her father-in-law,
embodying his experiences at that time:
CAPTIVITY OF JOHN KINZIE.
It had been a stipulation of General Hull at the surrender of Detroit
that the inhabitants of that place should remain undisturbed in their
homes. Accordingly the family of Mr. Kinzie took up their quarters
with their friends in the old mansion which many will still recall as
standing on the northeast corner of Jefferson Avenue and Wayne Street.
The feelings of indignation and sympathy were constantly aroused in
the hearts of the citizens during the winter that ensued. They were
almost daily called upon to witness the cruelties practiced upon
American prisoners brought in by their Indian captors. Those who
could scarcely drag their wounded, bleeding feet over the frozen
ground, were compelled to dance for the amusement of the savages, and
these exhibitions sometimes took place before the government house,
the residence of Colonel McKee. Some of the British officers looked
down from their windows at these heart-rending performances; for the
honor of humanity we will hope such instances were rare.
Everything that could be made available among the effects of the
citizens were offered, to ransom their countrymen from the hands
of these inhuman beings. The prisoners brought in from the River
Raisin--those unfortunate men who were permitted, after their
surrender to General Proctor, to be tortured and murdered by inches
by his savage allies, excited the sympathies and called for the
action of the whole community. Private houses were turned into
hospitals, and every one was forward to get possession of as many as
possible of the survivors. To effect this even the articles of their
apparel were bartered by the ladies of Detroit, as they watched from
their doors or windows the miserable victims being carried about for
sale.
In the dwelling of Mr. Kinzie, one large room was devoted to the
reception of these sufferers. Few of them survived. Among those
spoken of as the objects of deepest interest, were two young
gentlemen of Kentucky, both severely wounded, and their wounds
aggravated to a mortal degree by subsequent ill-usage and hardships.
Their solicitude for each other and their exhibition in various ways
of the most tender fraternal affection created an impression never to
be forgotten.
The last bargain made was by Black Jim, and one of the children,
who had permission to redeem a negro servant of the gallant Colonel
Allen, with an old white horse, the only available article that
remained among their possessions.
A brother of Colonel Allen afterward came to Detroit, and the negro
preferred returning to servitude rather than remaining a stranger in
a strange land.
Mr. Kinzie, as has been related, joined his family at Detroit in the
month of January. A short time after, suspicions arose that he was in
correspondence with General Harrison, who was now at Fort Meigs, and
who was believed to be meditating an advance upon Detroit. Lieutenant
Watson of the British army waited upon Mr. Kinzie one day with an
invitation to the quarters of General Proctor on the opposite side
of the river, saying he wished to speak with him on business. Quite
unsuspicious, he complied with the invitation, when to his surprise
he was ordered into confinement, and strictly guarded in the house
of his former partner, Mr. Patterson of Sandwich. Finding he did not
return to his home, Mrs. Kinzie informed some of the Indian chiefs,
his particular friends, who immediately repaired to the headquarters
of the commanding officer, demanded their "friend's" release and
brought him back to his home. After awaiting a time until a favorable
opportunity presented itself, the General sent a detachment of
dragoons to arrest him. They had succeeded in carrying him away and
crossing the river with him. Just at this moment a party of friendly
Indians made their appearance.
"Where is Shaw-nee-aw-kee?" was the first question.
"There," replied his wife, pointing across the river, "in the hands
of the red-coats who are taking him away again."
The Indians ran to the river, seized some canoes that they found
there, and crossing over to Sandwich compelled General Proctor a
second time to forego his intentions.
A third time this officer was more successful, and succeeded in
arresting Mr. Kinzie and conveying him, heavily ironed, to Fort
Maiden in Canada, at the mouth of the Detroit river. Here he was at
first treated with great severity, but after a time the rigor of his
confinement was somewhat relaxed, and he was permitted to walk on the
bank of the river for air and exercise.
On the 10th of September, as he was taking his promenade under the
close supervision of a guard of soldiers, the whole party were
startled by the sound of guns on Lake Erie at no great distance
below. What could it mean? It must be Commodore Barclay firing into
some of the Yankees. The firing continued. The time allotted the
prisoner for his daily walk expired, but neither he nor his guard
observed the lapse of time, so anxiously were they listening to what
they now felt sure was an engagement between ships of war. At length
Mr. Kinzie was reminded that the hour for his return to confinement
had arrived. He petitioned for another half hour.
"Let me stay," said he, "until we can learn how the battle has gone."
Very soon a sloop appeared under press of sail, rounding the point,
and, presently, two gun-boats in chase of her.
"She is running--she bears the British colors," cried he--"yes, yes,
they are lowering. She is striking her flag! Now," turning to the
soldiers, "I will go back to prison contented, I know how the battle
has gone."
The sloop was the Little Belt, the last of the squadron captured by
the gallant Perry, on that memorable occasion, which he announced in
the immortal words: "We have met the enemy and they are ours!"
Matters were growing critical, and it was necessary to transfer all
prisoners to a place of greater security than the frontier was now
likely to be. It was resolved therefore to send Mr. Kinzie to the
mother country. Nothing has ever appeared which would explain this
course of General Proctor in regard to this gentleman. He had been
taken from the bosom of his family, where he was living quietly
under the parole which he had received, and was protected by the
stipulations of the surrender. He was kept for months in confinement.
Now he was placed on horseback under a strong guard, who announced
that they had orders to shoot him through the head if he offered to
speak to a person on the road. He was tied upon the saddle in a way
to prevent his escape, and thus they set out for Quebec. A little
incident occurred which will help to illustrate the course invariably
pursued toward our citizens at this period, by the British army on
the northwestern frontier.
The saddle upon which Mr. Kinzie rode had not been properly fastened,
and owing to the rough motion of the animal on which it was, it
turned so as to bring the rider into a most awkward and painful
position. His limbs being fastened he could not disengage himself,
and in this manner he was compelled by those who had charge of him,
to ride until he was nearly exhausted, before they had the humanity
to release him.
[Illustration: NEW FORT, RIVER, KINZIE HOUSE, ETC., AS GIVEN IN
WAU-BUN.]
Arrived at Quebec, he was put on board a small vessel to be sent
to England. The vessel when a few days out at sea was chased by an
American frigate and driven into Halifax. A second time she set sail
when she sprang a leak and was compelled to put back.
The attempt to send him across the ocean was now abandoned, and he
was returned to Quebec. Another step, equally inexplicable with his
arrest, was now taken. This was his release, and that of Mr. Macomb,
of Detroit, who was also in confinement at Quebec, and the permission
given them to return to their friends and families, although the war
was not yet ended. It may possibly be imagined that in the treatment
these gentlemen received, the British commander sheltered himself
under the plea of their being "native born British subjects," and
perhaps when it was ascertained that Mr. Kinzie was indeed a citizen
of the United States, it was thought safest to release him.
In the meantime General Harrison at the head of his troops had
reached Detroit. He landed on the 29th of September. All the citizens
went forth to meet him.--Mrs. Kinzie leading her children by the
hand, was of the number. The General accompanied her to her home
and took up his abode there. On his arrival he was introduced to
Kee-po-tah, who happened to be on a visit to the family at that time.
The General had seen the chief the preceding year, at the council at
Vincennes, and the meeting was one of great cordiality and interest.
Additional particulars about the interesting career of this remarkable
man are given further on. (See Appendix D.)
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