  FAREWELL WAR-DANCE OF THE INDIANS. E EARLY in 1833 Indians to the number of five thousand or more, assembled at Chicago, around the fort, the village, the rivers and the portage, to treat for the sale of their entire remaining possessions in Illinois and Wisconsin. John Joseph Latrobe, in his "Rambles in North America," gives the following realistic sketch of the state of things hereabouts just sixty years ago: A mushroom town on the verge of a level country, crowded to its utmost capacity and beyond, a surrounding cloud of Indians encamped on the prairie, beneath the shelter of the woods, on the river-side or by the low sand-hills along the lake, companies of old warriers under every bush, smoking, arguing, palavering, pow-wowing, with no apparent prospect of agreement. The negotiations dragged on for weeks and months, for the Indians were slow to put an end to their jollification, an occasion when they were the guests of the Government, and fared sumptuously with nothing to pay. The treaty had still to be ratified by the senate before its provisions could be carried out and the settlement made. This took about two years. FAREWELL WAR-DANCE OF THE INDIANS, AUGUST 18, 1835. The money paid and the goods delivered, the Indians shook the dust off their feet and departed; the dust shaking being literal, for once, as they joined, just before starting, in a final "war-dance." For this strange scene, we fortunately have as witness Ex-Chief-Justice Caton, previously quoted herein. He estimates the dancers at eight hundred, that being all the braves that could be mustered, out of the five thousand members then present of the departing tribes. The date was August 18th, 1835. He says: They appreciated that it was their last on their native soil—that it was a sort of funeral ceremony of old associations and memories, and nothing was omitted to lend it all the grandeur and solemnity possible. They assembled at the Council House (North-east corner of Rush and Kinzie Streets). All were naked except a strip of cloth around their loins. Their bodies were covered with a great variety of brilliant paints. On their faces particularly they seemed to have exhausted their art of hideous decoration. Foreheads, cheeks and noses were covered with curved strips of red or vermillion, which were edged with black points, and gave the appearance of a horrid grin. The long, coarse black hair was gathered into scalp locks on the tops of their heads and decorated with a profusion of hawks' and eagles' feathers; some strung together so as to reach nearly to the ground. They were principally armed with tomahawks and war clubs. They were led by what answered for a band of music, which created a discordant din of hideous noises, produced by beating on hollow vessels and striking clubs and sticks together. They advanced with a continuous dance. Their actual progress was quite slow. They proceeded up along the river on the North side, stopping in front of every house to perform some extra antics. They crossed the north branch on the old bridge, about Kinzie Street, and proceeded south to the bridge which stood where Lake Street bridge is now, nearly in front of, and in full view from the Sauganash Hotel ("Wigwam" lot, Lake and Market Streets). A number of young married people had rooms there. The parlor was in the second story pointing west, from the windows of which the best view of the dancers was to be had and these were filled with ladies. The young lawyer, afterward Chief Justice, had come to the West in 1833, and less than a year before this had gone back to Oneida County, New York, and there married Miss Laura Sherrill. They were among the lookers-on from those upper windows, a crowd all interested, many agitated and some really frightened at the thought of the passions and memories that must be inflaming those savage breasts and that were making them the very picture of demoniac fury. Although the din and clatter had been heard for some time, they did not come into view from this point of observation till they had proceeded so far West (on the North side) as to come on a line with the house. All the way to the South Branch bridge came the wild band, which was in front as they came upon the bridge, redoubling their blows, followed by the warriors who had now wrought themselves into a perfect fury. The morning was very warm and the perspiration was pouring from them. Their countenances had assumed an expression of all the worst passions—fierce anger, terrible hate, dire revenge, remorseless cruelty—all were expressed in their terrible features. Their tomahawks and clubs were thrown and brandished in every direction, and with every step and every gesture they uttered the most frightful yells. The dance consisted of leaps and spasmodic The Indians were conveyed to the lands selected for them, (and accepted by a deputation sent by them in advance of the treaty) in Clay County, Missouri, opposite Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. The Missourians were hostile to their new, strange neighbors, and two years later they were again moved, this time to a reservation in Iowa, near Council Bluffs. Once more the fate of the poor waif, "Move on, move on," was theirs, and then they halted in Kansas for many years. Their present condition has been already sketched. Judge Caton is an ardent, devoted friend of the Indians. He knew many of them personally, they having been his faithful companions—by night and day, in summer and winter—in hunting, which was the passion of his early years. Yet here, we observe, he says sadly, that his wishes for their welfare go beyond any confident hope he can feel. |
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