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Table of Contents

Difficulty of procuring lodgings for the Indians—The Author pays them a visit—Is recognised by them—Arrangement with Mr. Rankin—Crowds around their hotel—First visit of the Ojibbeways to the Author’s Collection—Their surprise—Council held under the wigwam—Indians agree to drink no spirituous liquors—The old Chief’s speech to the Author—Names of the Indians—Their portraits—Description of each—Cadotte, the interpreter.

At the beginning of this chapter the reader turns a new leaf, or, opens a new book. He learns here the causes that begat this book, and I hope will find fresh excitement enough, just at the right time, to encourage him to go through it with me. He finds me turning here upon a pivot—my character changed and my occupation; travelling over old ground, and looking up old friends, of whom I had taken final leave, and who had thought me, ere this, safely landed on my own native shores.

The Ojibbeways were here; a party of nine wild Indians, from the back-woods of America. “Real Indians!” the “Ob-jub-be-ways,” or “Hob-jub-be-ways,” as the name was first echoed through Manchester—and had gone into lodgings for the night, which Daniel had procured with some difficulty. He drove to the door of an hotel, and inquired of the landlord if he could entertain a party of nine Indians for the night and perhaps for a few days. “O yes, certainly; bring them in. Porter, see to their luggage.” They were in his hall in a moment, having thoughtlessly sounded a yell of exultation as they landed on the pavement, and being wrapped in their robes, with their bows and arrows and tomahawks in their hands—as Indians are sure to be seen when entering a strange place—the landlord, taking a glance at them as he passed out, called out to Daniel, “What the devil is all this? I can’t take in these folks; you must load them up again. You told me they were Indians.” “Well! they are,” said Daniel. “No, they’re not; they’re wild men, and they look more like the devil than anything else. Every lodger would leave my house before morning. They’ve frightened the cook and my women folks already into fits.—Load them up as quick as you please.” Daniel got them “on board” again, and drove to another hotel, which was just being opened to the public, and with a new landlord, with whom he had a slight acquaintance. Here he was more successful, and, advising the Indians to keep quiet, had got them in comfortably and without much excitement. This very good and accommodating man, whose name I am sorry I have forgotten, being anxious to get his house and his name a little notoriety, seemed delighted at the thought of his house being the rendezvous of the Indians; and, upon Daniel’s representations that they were a civil and harmless set of people, his family and himself all did the most they could to accommodate and entertain them.

Daniel told him that they would make a great noise in Manchester, and as they would be the “lions” of the day, and visited by the greatest people in town, the clergy and all, it would be a feather in his cap, and make his hotel more known in three days than it would otherwise be in three years. This had pleased the new landlord exceedingly, and he made Daniel agree that Mr. Catlin, in announcing their arrival in the papers, should say that they had taken lodgings at his house, which he thought would do him great service. The good man’s wish was complied with the next morning, but there was scarcely any need of it, for the crowd that was already gathered and gathering around his new hotel, were certain to publish it to every part of the town in a very little time.

After they had been landed a while, and just when they were all seated around a long table and devouring the beef-steaks prepared for them, I made my way with great difficulty through the crowds that were jammed about the door and climbing to look into the windows, and entered the room, to take the first look at them.

As I stepped into the room I uttered their customary ejaculation of “How! how! how!”—to which they all responded; and rising from their seats, shook hands with me, knowing from my manner of addressing them who I was, or at least that I was familiar with Indians. I requested them to finish their suppers: and whilst conversing with Mr. Rankin I learned, from giving ear to their conversation, that one of the young men of the party had seen me whilst I was painting the portraits of chiefs at a Grand Council held at Mackinaw a few years before, and was coming forward to claim acquaintance with me. He finished his meal a little sooner than the rest, and made a dart across the room and offered me his hand, with a “How! how! how! ketch-e-wah!” and then telling me, with the aid of the interpreter, that he knew me—that he was at Mackinaw at the Great Council, when I painted the portraits of Gitch-e-gaw-ga-osh, and On-daig, and Ga-zaw-que-dung, and others; and I recollected his face very well, which seemed excessively pleasing to him.

The poor fellows were exceedingly fatigued and jaded; and after a few minutes’ conversation I left them, advising them to lie quiet for two or three days until they were rested and recruited after the fatigues of their long and boisterous voyage. Mr. Rankin, with the aid of my man Daniel, settled all the arrangements for this, and the next morning I met Mr. Rankin with a view to some arrangement for their exhibition in my collection, which was then open in the Exchange Rooms. He seemed alarmed about the prospects of their exhibition, from what had been told him in London, and proposed that I should take them off his hands by paying him 100l. per month.

I instantly stated my objections to such an arrangement, that by doing so I should be assuming all the responsibilities for them while abroad; and as I had always been opposed to bringing Indians abroad on that account, as well as from other reasons, I should be unwilling to use them in any way that should release him from the responsibilities he had assumed in bringing them to this country. And I then said, “I will propose what I feel quite sure will be more for your pecuniary interest, and more satisfactory to my own feelings, and it is the only way in which I will be interested in their exhibition; for under such an arrangement both the Indians and the exhibition will be sure of having our mutual and united efforts, which they will stand in need of to ensure the success that I hope they may meet. I will agree to make my Indian collection the place for their exhibition (the appropriateness of which will do away all the objections that would in many places be raised to their dancing), and to conduct their exhibition in the best way I can, giving my lectures on them and their modes, sharing equally with you all expenses and all receipts from this day to the time they shall leave the kingdom, expecting you to give your whole attention to the travelling and care of the Indians while they are not in the exhibition-rooms.”

To this proposition, which never was more than a verbal one, he at once agreed, and our arrangements were accordingly being made for the commencement of their dances, &c., in my exhibition-rooms. During the few days of interval between their arrival and the commencement of their exhibition, several editors of the leading journals, with other distinguished visitors to them, had examined them, and, being much pleased with their appearance, excited the public curiosity to see them, to an impatient degree; and the streets in the vicinity of their hotel became so completely besieged, that a strong party of police was necessary to keep back the crowds, who could only now and then get a glimpse of an eye and a nose of the Indians peeping out between the curtains of their windows.

Their first airing in Manchester was a drive in an omnibus, to my exhibition-rooms, which they had long wished to see. The mayor of the city, with the editors of the Guardian and several other gentlemen, had been invited there to see the first effect it would have upon them. It proved to be a very curious scene. As they entered the hall, the portraits of several hundreds of the chiefs and warriors of their own tribe and of their enemies were hanging on the walls and staring at them from all directions, and wigwams, and costumes and weapons of all constructions around them: they set up the most frightful yells and made the whole neighbourhood ring with their howlings; they advanced to the portraits of their friends and offered them their hands; and at their enemies, whom they occasionally recognised, they brandished their tomahawks or drew their bows as they sounded the war-whoop.

This scene was truly exciting, and after our distinguished visitors had left the rooms, I spread some robes upon the floor, upon which we sat, and lighting an Indian pipe, opened our first council by saying:—

“My Friends, I am glad to see you, and to offer you my hand in friendship. You see by the paintings around you, of your friends and of your enemies, that I am no stranger to Indians—and that I am their friend. I am very happy to see you in my room, and all well after crossing the great ocean. Your friend here, Mr. Rankin, tells me you have come to this country to give your dances, &c.; and he has proposed that I should manage your exhibition, and have your dances all given in my rooms. This I have agreed to do, provided it meets your approbation.”

To which they all instantly ejaculated “How, how, how!” which is always an affirmative, literally meaning yes. When meeting a friend, it is the first salutation, meaning “How goes it?” or “How do you do?” and pronounced at the ends of sentences, when any one is speaking, implies assent, or approbation, as “hear, hear!” is used in the English language.

“My good Friends, I have agreed to this on two conditions: the first, that it shall please you; and the second, that you will pledge your words to me that you will keep yourselves all the time sober, and drink no spirituous liquors while you are in the country. I make this condition because I know that the Indians are generally fond of strong drink, which wicked white men carry into their country and teach them to use. I know that the Indians often drink it to excess, not knowing in their country the sin of doing so. I know that the people in England detest drunkards, and they have an idea that all Indians are drunkards; and that if you drink and get drunk in this country, it will ruin all your prospects, and you will go home poor and despised. (‘How, how, how!’) You are a good-looking and well-behaved set of men, and I have no fears of any difficulties if you will keep sober. The English people are the friends of the Indians, and you will make many friends if you take and keep my advice. “I will ask but one solemn promise of you, and that is, that you will drink no spirituous liquors while you are in this country, and your friend Mr. Rankin will perfectly justify me in this. (‘How, how, how!’) “If you will keep sober, you shall have plenty of good tobacco to smoke and roast beef to eat, and there is no doubt that I will get you permission to see the Queen.”

To this the old chief (Ah-quee-we-zaints, the boy chief) arose and replied:—

“My Friend, I give you my hand. The Great Spirit has been kind to us in keeping his eye upon us all in crossing the salt lake, and we are thanking Him that we are all here safe and in good health. We had heard much of you when in our own country, where all the Indians know you, and we are now happy to meet you. (‘How, how!’)

“My Friend, we are here like children in this strange country, and we shall feel happy and not afraid if you will be our father—the Great Spirit has put good counsel into your mouth, and we will follow it. (‘How, how, how!’)

“We all know the dangers of fire-water; we have all been fond of it, and have been taught to drink it. We have been told that the Great Spirit sent it to us because he loved us—but we have learned that this is not true.

“We have learned that the English people do not drink it—they are wise; and we will all pledge our words to you in this council that we will not drink it while we are in this country, and we are ready to put our names on a paper. (‘How, how, how!’)”

“My Friends,” said I, “I don’t require your names on a paper; I am satisfied; if you were white men, perhaps I might—but no Indian who ever gave me his word has deceived me. I will take your names on paper, however, for another purpose, that I may know how to call you, how to introduce you, and to have your arrival properly announced in the newspapers.” (‘How, how, how!’)

N^o. 4.

Their names were then taken as follows, and the business of our first council being finished, it broke up. (See Plate No. 4.)

1 Ah-quee-we-zaints (the Boy Chief).

2 Pat-au-a-quot-a-wee-be (the Driving Cloud), war-chief.

3 Wee-nish-ka-wee-be (the Flying Gull).

4 Sah-mah (Tobacco).

5 Gish-ee-gosh-e-gee (Moonlight Night).

6 Not-een-a-akm (Strong Wind), interpreter.

7 Wos-see-ab-e-neuh-qua, woman.

8 Nib-nab-ee-qua, girl.

9 Ne-bet-neuh-qua, woman.

After a stroll of an hour or so about my rooms, where they were inexpressibly amused with my numerous paintings, &c., they were driven awhile about the town, and landed at their hotel, where the crowd had become so general and so dense, that it was almost impossible to approach it. The partial glance that the public got of their red faces and wild dresses on this day, as they were moving through the streets, and passing to and from the carriage, increased the cry of “Ob-jubbeways!” in every part of the city, and established the fact as certain, that “real Indians” had made their appearance in Manchester.

It should be known to the reader by this time that this party were from the northern shore of Lake Huron, in Canada; therefore her Majesty’s subjects, and part of one of the most numerous tribes in North America, inhabiting the shores of Lake Superior, Lake of the Woods, and Lake Huron, numbering some 15,000 or 20,000, and usually (in civilized parlance) called Chippeways, a mere refinement upon their native name, O-jib-be-way. The appearance of these wild folks so suddenly in the streets of Manchester was well calculated to raise an excitement and the most intense curiosity. They were all clad in skins of their own dressing, their head-dresses of eagles’ quills and wild turkeys’ feathers; their faces daubed and streaked with vermilion and black and green paint. They were armed with their war-clubs, bows and quivers, and tomahawks and scalping knives, just as they roam through the woods in their country; and their yells and war-whoops, which were occasionally sounded in the streets at some sudden occurrence that attracted their attention, gave a new excitement amid the smoke and din of Manchester. The leading man of this party, Ah-quee-we-zaints (the boy chief), was an excellent old man, of seventy-five years, with an intelligent and benignant countenance, and had been somewhat distinguished as a warrior in his younger days.

The next of consequence (Pat-au-a-quot-a-wee-be, the driving cloud), and called the war-chief (though I believe, not a chief), was a remarkably fine man of thirty-five years of age, and had distinguished himself as a warrior in several battles in the war of 1812, having been engaged in the British lines, and in those engagements had been several times severely wounded, and of which he still carried and exhibited the most frightful scars.

Sah-mah (tobacco) and Gish-ee-gosh-e-gee (moonlight night) were two fine young men, denoted warriors, having their wives with them; Wee-nish-ka-wee-be (the flying gull) was a sort of doctor or necromancer to the party, and a young fellow of much drollery and wit. The Strong Wind, the interpreter, whose familiar name was Cadotte, was a half-caste, a young man of fine personal appearance and address, and the son of a Frenchman of that name who had long been an interpreter for the English factories in those regions.

By the patient and accommodating disposition of this young man, any conversation was easily held with these people; and through him, the interchange of feelings between the civilized world and these rude and curious people, which will appear in the subsequent chapters of this book, was principally effected.