XIX.

MARY McMILLAN.

Lanman, the author of a pleasing History of Michigan, says it embraces three epochs; the first a romantic one, extending to 1760, when the dominion over the small portion of inhabited territory passed from France to Great Britain. The earliest gleam of civilization at that period had scarcely penetrated its forests, and the boat-songs of the French furtraders, as they swept its lakes, alone awoke the echoes. The second epoch may be called a military one. It commenced with the Pontiac war, and extends through the struggles of the British, Indians, and Americans to obtain undisputed possession of the country; terminating with the victory of Commodore Perry, the defeat of Proctor, etc. The third and last period comprises the enterprising, mechanical, and working age of Michigan, commencing with the introduction of the public lands into market; it is the epoch of agriculture, manufactures, and commerce; the day of harbors, cities, canals, and railroads, in which forests have been surveyed and cleared, streams and lakes covered with sails, States founded, and their internal resources developed.

A few small settlements were made along the lakes at a very early period. Sault Ste. Marie, like the other French posts, had a fort and chapel in 1688, and was a favorite resort for traders and savages on their way to the forests of Lake Superior, its settlers being a few Indians, called the Salteurs, who lived by fishing in the rapids. A goldsmith, who went there afterwards, wrought from the pure copper found in that region, bracelets, candlesticks, crosses, and censers, for sale among the savages. From time to time Jesuit missionaries were sent from Quebec and Montreal to these distant posts, but they remained without any organized colonial government, or any connected history, forming a part of the Canadian domain, inhabited only by wandering Indians or migrating traders, whose headquarters were at Montreal or Quebec. The vast tracts extending from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi, fertile, and watered by noble streams, with inland seas offering facilities for commerce, were thus wandered over by herds of deer, elk, and buffalo, or tribes as wild as the beasts of the forest.

Baron La Hontan, who came at a very early period, says, describing Lake Erie, “It is assuredly the finest on earth; its banks decked with oak trees, elms, and chestnuts, entwined with vines bearing rich clusters to their tops, and its forests abounding with turkeys, deer, and wild beeves, frequented too by warlike hunters.” The French scattered along the lake border, were there for the purpose of pushing the fur trade into the Indian territory, and except the commandants at the posts, were chiefly merchants engaged in this traffic. The coureurs des bois, or, rangers of the woods, were often half-breeds, and were hardy and skilled in propelling the canoe, fishing, hunting, or sending a rifle-ball to the “right eye” of the buffalo. They procured cargoes of furs from the Indians, and carried large packs of goods across portages in the interior, by straps suspended from their foreheads or shoulders. They were familiar with every rock and island, bay and shoal, of the western waters. The ordinary dress of a Canadian furtrader, was a cloth fastened about the middle, a loose shirt, a “molton” or blanket-coat, a red worsted or leathern cap, and sometimes a surtout of coarse blue cloth, and cap of the same material; elk-skin trowsers, with seams adorned with fringe; a scarlet woollen sash tied round the waist, in which a broad hunting-knife was stuck, and buck-skin moccasins. In later years they wore a shirt of striped cotton, trowsers of cloth or leather, leggins like the Indians, deer-skin moccasins, colored belt of worsted, with knife and tobacco-pouch, and blue woollen cap with red feather. The half breeds were demi-savage, and were employed as guides or rangers, to manage the canoes in remote trading excursions. European goods were exchanged for peltries, which were taken to the depôts on the lakes, and thence transported eastward. The individuals who devoted their attention to agriculture usually wore a long surtout and sash, with red cap and deer-skin moccasins, while the gentlemen visiting the country preserved the garb in vogue in the days of Louis XIV. Agriculture was then limited to a few patches of corn and wheat, the grain being ground in wind-mills. The French soldiers, with their blue coats turned up with white facings, and short-clothes, and the priests with their long gowns and black bands, who had their stations near the forts, formed a strong contrast in their appearance to the Indians who loitered around the posts.[39]

The women made coarse cotton and woollen garments for the Indian traders. The amusements were chiefly dancing to the violin, and hunting in the forests; to which may be added the observance of the festivals enjoined by the church. Fishing was a constant occupation; canoes passed in every direction over the streams and bays, and the varieties of fish now esteemed so delicious, were taken in great abundance, and formed a principal article of food. The social condition of these primitive inhabitants was not as civilized as in the larger colonial settlements; the humble emigrants went out with their tents, their axes, their hoes, their stores of ammunition and provisions, and their cattle, to win a subsistence by hard labor, and had little regard to the amenities which are the growth of a settled community. The priests had much influence, and frequently was the lonely altar, with its rude candlesticks and censers carved from native copper, erected under the forest boughs, surrounded by savages in the wild costume of their tribes, deer or buffalo skins, with the cincture of the war eagle on their heads, their necklaces of bear’s claws, and moccasins embroidered with porcupine’s quills. The solemn chant went up amidst the distant howling of wild beasts, and the solitary bark chapels, adorned by no sculptured marble or golden lamps, but surmounted by the rudely framed cross, looked out on a domain of prairie, lake, and unbroken forest; yet was the wealth of art surpassed:

A volume might be written upon the Indian mythology of the lakes. Each rock, island, lake, river, wood and cataract along the shores of Michigan, had its presiding genius, good or evil; legends peopled the earth and air, spirits floated through the forests and danced along the streams; manitous of darkness performed their orgies in the storms, and the islands abounded with golden sands watched like the fleece of old, by serpents, birds of prey, and mighty giants. To these, sacrifices of tobacco pipes and other offerings were continually presented. In 1721, Charlevoix was informed that Michabout was the manitou of the lakes, and the island of Michilimackinac his birth-place. The name of this island signifies “a great turtle,” from its resemblance to one, or in the Chippewa speech, “the place of giant fairies.” This deity, it is said, created Lake Superior that his Indians might catch beaver; and the savages believe the fragments of rock at the Sault and other rapids are remains of the causeway constructed by him to dam up the waters.

The social condition of the settlers of Michigan was not much improved by the transfer of the country from the French to the British government. By the capitulation of Montreal, the French subjects were permitted to remain, and the fur trade was prosecuted by their agency under English companies. Till 1762 the peninsula remained quiet, while war raged at a distance; but the war of the Pontiac confederacy soon carried disturbance to its borders. The details of this period belong to history. It is proper merely to mention the plot by which this famous Indian chief aimed to destroy the fort of Detroit. He had ordered his Indians to saw off their rifles, conceal them under their blankets, and gain admission to the fort under pretence of holding a peaceable council. On a signal given by his delivering a belt of wampum in a specified manner, the savages were to rush on the soldiers, and fling open the gates to the body of warriors on the outside. Word was then sent to Major Gladwyn that Pontiac would hold a council with the English commander on the 9th of May, 1763. The evening before, an Indian woman employed by the Major to make some elk-skin moccasins, brought them to the fort. Gladwyn, pleased with her work, bespoke more, and having paid her for the first, sent a servant to see her safely through the gates. Here she lingered, looking wistfully at the river, and her behavior appearing singular, the servant asked the cause of her delay, but received no answer. The commanding officer then called her in, and asked why she hesitated, when, calling to mind his former kindness, the woman said she would not take away the skin, as she would not be able to bring it back. This remark exciting suspicion, she was induced by promises of safety and reward, to reveal the whole plot. The officers thought it a trick, but the night was spent in preparation; guards were placed on the ramparts, and every man was ready for defence. Their suspicions were confirmed by the distant sounds heard of the war-songs and dances of the Indians. In the morning Pontiac came with his chiefs and braves to the council-house, and was received by the Major and officers. The appearance of warlike preparation could not escape the Indians, and when they were seated on the skins, Pontiac asked the cause, which he was told was the necessity of military discipline. He professed much friendship for the English in his speech, but his gestures became violent as he approached the point when he was to give the concerted signal. The officers drew their swords, the soldiers at the doors clattered their arms, and as the chief presented the belt in his usual manner, thus failing to give the signal, the Major accused him of being a traitor, and pulling aside his blanket, showed his rifle. The Indians were ordered to quit the fort instantly, being assured of safety beyond the pickets, and were received by the warriors without with yells and firing, and other demonstrations of hostility towards the garrison, the more fierce on account of the failure of the enterprise.

During the Revolutionary struggle the peninsula remained in comparative quiet. Although constituting a part of the Canadian territory, a magazine of arms for the savage allies of the loyalists, and a mart where scalps were bought and sold, it can boast no prominent events to give interest to its history, because not made the theatre of action. A mere outpost of Canada, it was a magnificent extent of wilderness, in which the axe had scarcely felled a tree; trackless, save where Indian trails wound through the dense forests and flowery oaklands; unbroken, except by scattered Indian villages and corn-fields studding the prairies, or the solitary posts of furtraders. The treaty of 1783 included the peninsula within the bounds of American territory. At this time its sparse white population consisted chiefly of French and English, whose settlements were confined to the vicinity of trading posts along the lakes and the banks of the principal rivers. When the ravages of the savage tribes on the frontier were terminated by the victories of Gen. Wayne and the treaty in 1795, the tide of emigration began to flow more steadily westward. Michigan was erected into a separate territory in 1805, but the progress of settlement was slow, and the principal business carried on was still the fur trade.

In 1810 the island of Mackinaw, a romantic point, rising like an altar from the realm of waters, was the central mart of traffic, and the lakes were sprinkled with canoes of traders and Indians; the merry Canadian voyageur bartering his trinkets at booths scattered along the shores, and the red warrior with his fantastic ornaments, his silver armlets and embroidered moccasins, coming to exchange his treasures, or on fishing and hunting excursions. The fur merchants went up the lakes in large canoes, manned by Canadians, to meet their agents returning from the remote wilderness at Fort William, one of the principal pioneer posts of the northwest country. The council house was a large wooden building, hung with trophies of the chase, and Indian implements of war or peaceful employment. Thus the romantic aspect of the country had not yet disappeared, though the post was crowded with traders, and the epoch of mercantile enterprise was in its meridian. The semi-barbarous dominion exercised for a century over the lakes and the region on their borders, had not yet been swept away even by the wings of commerce.

The war of 1812 was a crisis which brought renewed devastations upon the frontier, and the borders were overrun by the British and their savage allies. Although, by act of Congress in May of this year, two millions of acres were ordered to be surveyed, little inducement was held out to emigrants to penetrate a remote wilderness, through which there were no roads, and as late as 1820 Detroit, Frenchtown, Mackinaw, and Sault Ste. Marie, were the chief settlements within the present limits of the State. When, some time afterwards, expeditions were projected for exploring the country, the interior was yet a ranging ground for savages and wild beasts, intersected by Indian trails, with here and there, by the lakes or streams, a few clusters of log houses, or the huts of Frenchmen; the roads constructed in 1823 scarcely passable in the most favorable season. Gradually, however, the forest began to resound with the huntsman’s axe, and the log tenements of the hardy pioneers to stud the wilderness. The social progress of the territory was not marked by any stirring events. The advance of emigration along its rivers was solitary and silent; the cannon and bayonet had long since given place to the plough and the woodman’s axe, and the subjugation of the wild forest was achieved without the necessity of disputing possession of the soil with human foes. The emigrants scattered themselves by degrees over the interior, finding a dry and fertile soil, well adapted for culture, and a country rich in varied and picturesque scenery. The lake-like and rolling prairies, with their wooded islands and forest borders, were beautiful beyond description; the white oak openings were like stately parks enamelled with flowers, and the burr-oak groves like orchards studded with large pear trees. The mounds rose from thirty or forty to two hundred feet, and hill and dale, secluded lake and forest tract, with its dense growth of beech, black walnut, elm, maple, hickory, oaks of different kinds, etc., its luxuriant wild grape vines and rich underwood, presented scenes that might well captivate the new comers. One by one, or in small numbers, wagons bearing the families of the pioneers, with their furniture, might be seen winding over the rough roads or along the shores; then smoke rose curling through the woods from the prostrate trunks of smouldering trees; the settler having cleared a small space, built his log house, while his cattle fed on the luxuriant herbage in the vicinity; the labors of the plough followed those of the axe, the winter was weathered through, and the succeeding year saw him an independent freeholder, with a market at his door for the produce of his farm.

Mrs. McMillan was among the early settlers of the eastern portion of Michigan. Her removal with husband and children from a populous and cultivated region, was a laborious journey, performed in the manner above mentioned, in a small wagon, laden with a few necessary articles of comfort for their new home; by slow and toilsome stages—their nights being passed under some temporary shelter, insufficiently protected from the attacks of wild beasts, and subject to inconvenience from night dews, cold winds, and troublesome insects. Their establishment was attended with the same circumstances of labor and hardship, which have been described in numerous other cases. We pass to some incidents that may serve to illustrate the times, as well as show the courage and energy of this strong-hearted matron.

In 1813 she was living on the Canada side, in a small house on the banks of the Thames, a beautiful little river whose bright waters were often skimmed by canoes of savages intent on plunder or slaughter, the shrill war-whoop often resounding from the depths of the woods. McMillan had left his family to enter into active military service, and their home was two miles distant from the nearest neighbor. The country had been kept in a continual state of alarm by marauding parties of Indians, who did not hesitate to kill and capture, as well as rob the defenceless settlers. Mrs. McMillan suffered the more from anxiety at this critical period, as in the absence of her husband the care of their young children devolved entirely upon her, and her sole protection was her own prudence and energy. One day having heard rumors of the approach of a hostile party, and being apprehensive of a sudden attack, she took her infant and walked to the nearest house in search of information. There she was startled with the intelligence that savages had been seen in the vicinity, and that they had gone in the direction of her dwelling, where they would probably stop during the day. The matron thought of the little ones she had left at home unprotected, and a sickening terror entered her heart. She stayed to hear no more, but hastened homeward, bearing in her arms the unconscious babe who might now be all that remained to her. As she came near, her eyes were eagerly strained for a sight of those beloved ones who were accustomed to run to meet her; all was silence; and when she dashed open the door and stood within the dwelling, a scene of desolation met her view! Every article of furniture had disappeared; the floor was dusty with the track of footsteps, and not one of her children was anywhere on the premises.

The alarm and anguish of the mother may be better imagined than described. The fatal idea had flashed at once on her mind, that her little ones had been either murdered or carried away captive by the merciless Indians. In this terrible emergency she lost none of her self-possession, nor her usual sagacity of judgment. The savages could not have gone far, and her only course was to cross the river and seek aid immediately. But there was no canoe, nor mode of conveyance; she could not swim, nor could she leave her helpless infant behind her. She was not long in discovering a way to overcome the difficulty. Hastily rolling some logs into the water, she placed two boards across them, forming a kind of raft, on which she stepped cautiously, carrying her babe, managed to hold the frail craft together while she guided its course, and reached the opposite shore in safety. Here her terror and anguish were suddenly changed into joy; the children had heard of the near approach of Indians immediately after their mother’s departure, and having taken the precaution to put the furniture in the cellar, out of the intruders’ way, they had crossed the river to seek protection from the neighbors on the other side.

On another occasion Mrs. McMillan suffered from Indian depredation. A large party from the different tribes was on the way to Toronto, and in the course of a single day some two hundred of them stopped at her house, plundering it of all it contained. McMillan was still absent, and the mother did not dare to interfere for the rescue of any portion of her property, lest she should draw down vengeance upon herself and her innocent children. The work of spoiling went on, therefore, while they stood quietly aloof. A fine flock of geese, which she had raised with care, was on the grass before the door, and the Indians soon commenced execution among them. Mrs. McMillan started forward to save her favorites; but a gun was instantly levelled at her, with the threat of shooting, if she ventured to interrupt the sport. Like many other matrons of that day, she prided herself on a handsome set of pewter dishes and plates, which her industrious scouring kept as bright as silver. Their polish and beauty pleased the Indians, who tried them by biting, to ascertain if they were real silver, and the whole stock speedily passed into the possession of the depredators, who left only a knife and a tin cup in the house. When the last of the enemy had passed over the river, the terrified family found themselves in safety, but exhausted with hunger, while nothing in the shape of food was left about the place. They were compelled to fast till supplies could be brought from a distance of several miles.

When the war was over, and comparative quiet established, McMillan and his family, with two or three others, removed to Detroit, ascending the river on a large raft. The trials of the wife were not ended. Straggling bands of savages were still lurking in the neighborhood of the city, ready for any deed of robbery or bloodshed. One evening when McMillan had left his home for a short time, the silence was broken by the report of a gun, which caused some alarm to his wife and children, though they were far from anticipating the extent of their calamity. The father’s prolonged absence caused apprehension, which was terminated by fatal certainty; during the night his lifeless body was brought home. This blow was severely felt by the bereaved wife, but a sense of duty to the loved ones dependent on her, prevented her from being utterly overwhelmed. It may be imagined, after this sad tragedy, how anxiously passed the nights in her lonely dwelling. In the middle of one dark night, the roar of the alarm guns was again heard. The affrighted mother sprang up, gathered her children hastily together, and knowing well there was no safety within doors, hurried with them from the house. The house of a friend at a considerable distance, offered shelter, but the darkness was intense; the fugitives lost their way, and ere long found themselves in the midst of the deep mire for which the roads of Detroit were formerly so celebrated. More urgent peril, however, was behind them; they struggled on, leaving their shoes in the mud, and managed to escape to the house of their friend, where they were received with kindness. The mother’s quick eye, scanning her rescued group, now discovered that her son, eleven years of age, was missing! The alarm was given, and the next day men were sent in every direction about the country to search for him; but all in vain. It was too certain that he had been captured, and the distracted mother feared he had been murdered by the relentless savages. For four long months she endured the tortures of suspense. She then learned that her boy had been taken prisoner, and was still held in captivity at some distance from the city. The sum demanded for his ransom was speedily sent, and he was restored to the arms of his mother. During his captivity he had fared hardly, subsisting chiefly on buds and roots, and never having even a piece of bread. This son is now living at Jackson, Michigan.

After the termination of the Indian troubles, Mrs. McMillan maintained her family by her exertions, giving each of her children a substantial education, with such training as to fit them for every duty and vicissitude of life. She made enough to purchase a valuable piece of land near the Presbyterian church, with a large framed house, which is now known as the Temperance or Purdy’s Hotel. Mrs. McMillan resides in the city with one of her sons, and is often solicited by those who have heard something of her romantic history, to relate her adventures in detail, and describe the life led by many who like her, encountered the perils of war in a new country.