At two o’clock on the afternoon of May 26, 1736, the battle of Ackia was opened by Chevalier Noyan, who, as his troops advanced within carbine shot of the fort, could easily see English officers within the palisades directing the defense.
The French were moving to the attack in the open, without personal shields, which were too heavy to be brought so great a distance, and they had to resort to portable breastworks made of heavy ropes, closely woven together in strips of about four feet in width and about twenty feet in length. This wide strip of roping had to be borne at either end by strong men, who were of course exposed, while the firing line was somewhat protected. These mantelets, for such the movable fortifications were called, were carried by negroes, whom the French forced into this perilous service. A broadside of musketry was opened on the fort, in response to which the garrison vigorously replied, and among the casualties was that of killing one of the negroes, while another was wounded, whereupon every black man who was supporting the mantelets threw them down and fled the field. Without a waver in their line, the French pressed on to the attack.
The grenadiers led the advance and moved on into the outside village. The battle was now on in earnest, and one of the ablest of the French commanders, Chevalier de Contre Coeur, was killed, together with a number of grenadiers, but the fortified cabins were taken without, as well as some smallerones, to the latter of which fire was applied. This quick advantage gained, led to an enthusiastic determination to carry the fort by assault. Noyan, at the head of his troops, saw the advantage and was ready to lead the charge. With sword upraised, he commanded the advance, but on looking back he found that all the troops, save a mere handful, had fled back to the fortified cabins, leaving the officers. The enemy taking advantage of this juncture, fired more vigorously still, and another of the brave commanders, Captain DeLusser, the same who commanded at Fort Tombecke, fell. The officers bringing up the rear urged, besought, exhorted the troops who had sought shelter in the cabins to rejoin their officers, but to no purpose. They were promised the reward of promotion, but that did not avail. Finally the officers sought to appeal to their pride by proposing to take such as would follow and themselves make the assault, to all of which the troops were agreed, but they did not propose to face again the galling fire of the Chickasaws. Suiting the action to the word, the officers proceeded to the assault, for which they paid severely, for every prominent leader was shot down wounded—Noyan, Grondel, Montburn and De Velles. Though bleeding and suffering, Noyan supported himself and, much exposed, held his ground with a remnant of troops. Hoping to elicit those from the cabins, he ordered an aide to request the secreted troops to come to his rescue, as he was wounded. As the officer turned to obey, he was shot dead.
The assault had been carried to within a short distance of the main walls where the officers laybleeding from their wounds, the foremost of whom was the gallant Grondel. A number of Indian warriors issued from the fort to scalp him, on observing which a sergeant with four men rushed to his rescue, drove the Indians back into the fort, and raised his body to bear it off the field. Just as they started, every rescuer was killed. A stalwart Frenchman named Regnisse, seeing what had happened, dashed toward the body alone, under a galling fire, lifted the wounded man to his back and bore him off, though not without the receipt of another wound by Grondel.
Meanwhile, where were the courageous Choctaws who were so eager for the fray and who were the chief cause of bringing on the fight? While the French were exposed to a raking fire, these six hundred painted warriors remained at a safe distance on the plain, giving frequent vent to shouting and shrieking and yelling, interspersed now and then with dancing, and shooting into the air. This was the utmost of the service rendered by the Choctaw allies.
Though with a courageous few, Noyan had come under the shadow of the walls of the fort, he could do no more unsupported, and so proceeded to return, in order, to the fortified cabins, where he found his men crouching in fear, when he at once notified Bienville of the peril of the situation. He asked for a detachment to bear off the dead and wounded, and notified the governor that without troops to support him, nothing more could be done to capture the fort.
At this juncture, Bienville saw a demonstration made on the part of the savages in the fort, from anunconjectured quarter, to capture the cabins in which were gathered the men and officers, and made haste to send Beauchamp, with eighty men, to head off the movement, rescue the troops and to bring away the wounded and the dead. Beauchamp moved with speed, turned back the movement, and while many of the dead and wounded were recovered, he could not recover all. In this movement Beauchamp lost a number of men. So hot was the firing from the fort, that he was compelled to leave a number to the barbarity of the Chickasaws.
As Beauchamp was retiring in an orderly way, the Choctaws issued from their camp with much impetuosity and fury, as though they had at last resolved to carry everything before them. Fleet of foot, and filling the air with their wild yelling, they dashed toward the fort, but just then a well-directed fire into their ranks, from the Chickasaws, created a speedy rout, and they fled in every direction.
Had Bienville been able to bring his cannon so far into the interior, he would have demolished the fort in short order, but as it was, everything was against him. Instead of his plans being executed as originally formed, they fell to pieces, step by step, and his defeat was the most signal. Thus ended the campaign against the Chickasaws, the fiercest and most warlike of all the tribes. After all the imposing grandeur at the outset of the campaign it ended in a fiasco. The situation was much graver than Bienville seemed to apprehend. He was in the heart of the enemy’s country, without substantial support. His Choctaw allies had failed him, and in a grave crisis his own men had forsaken him. Nothingwould have been easier than for the Chickasaws to cut him off from his boats, and extinguish the entire command, but, themselves unapprised of the conditions, they kept well within the enclosure of the fort. Other difficulties were in store for the unfortunate Bienville.
The battle of Ackia had lasted three hours, but during that brief time there were some as excellent exhibitions of bravery, as well as sad defections of soldiery, as can well be conceived. However, all the dramatic and tragical scenes were not confined to the battle, as other interesting details are to follow. The day was now closing. For about two hours, the utmost quiet had fallen on the scene. The noisy Choctaws, in a camp adjoining, had become strangely silent. Not a note of activity came from the fort, not a man was to be seen. The horses and cattle of the Chickasaws, grazing on the prairie when the battle began, had fled far across the plain, but now that the day was closing, and the firing had ceased, they came wending their way across the expanse to a small stream that flowed at the base of the hill.
In a group the French officers were standing, discussing the scenes of the recent conflict, and indignant at the conduct of the Indian allies; they turned jocularly to Simon, the negro commander, and chid him on the cowardice of his black crew. Simon was polite and bright, and was much in favor with the officers. While he smiled in return to the jocularity of the officers, he glanced about him, suddenly picked up a long rope, and said: “I’ll prove to you that a negro is as brave as anybody, when it is necessary to be,” and with this dashed toward the herd of cattle and horses, selected a milk-whitemare, hastily made a halter, mounted on her back, and sped the entire circuit of the walls of the fort, perhaps a distance of a quarter of a mile. He was fired on by hundreds of rifles from the fort, but dashed back to the group of officers without having received a scratch, leaped from the back of the mare, gracefully saluted the officers and bowed, while they cheered his exploit. No one doubted the courage of Simon after that feat.
That night the French slept on their arms. Not a note came from the fort. There was funereal silence everywhere. When, however, light broke over the scene on the following morning, a horrible spectacle met the gaze of the French. The Chickasaws had sallied forth during the night and had borne within the fort the dead left on the scene, had quartered them, and had hung from the walls portions of the bodies of the unfortunate slain. This act of barbarous defiance, added to the sting of defeat, infuriated many of the officers and men, and they demanded to be given another chance at the Chickasaws and they would demolish the fort. Incensed and insulted, they became almost uncontrollable, but Bienville admonished coolness and prudence, for he had had enough, and was now more concerned about how he should get away with his crippled command. As the Choctaw allies had proved an incubus to Bienville from the start, and a source of annoyance and of embarrassment, the governor thought to enlist them in the removal of his stores and of the wounded. To this proposal they at first demurred, then became sullen, and finally refractory, and proposed to abandon theFrench outright, leave them to their fate, and hunt again their homes to the south.
Bienville was a shrewd diplomat and sagacious, and knew full well that if such an emergency should come, and the Choctaws would reach the boats first, take them and the stores left at Fort Oltibia, float down the river, and leave him and his men to perish in the wilds. In order to avert this calamity he proceeded on a policy of conciliation. It was ascertained that Red Shoes was the instigator of the discontent, who was as merciless as he was shrewdly ambitious of influence and leadership. Bienville dreaded him, and had distrusted him all along, but there was no way of disposing of him, and he had to accompany the command. The governor sent for the chief, who appeared before him accompanied by the despicable Red Shoes. Bienville not only persuaded the chief to remain steadfast, but gained his consent to have his warriors become burden-bearers of the camp equipage. At this agreement between the two leaders, Red Shoes indignantly protested, and in his rage snatched his pistol from his belt and would have shot the chief on the spot, had not Bienville seized his brawny arm and prevented the commission of the deed.
The march back to the boats was tedious and irksome, covering only four miles the first day. Two of the wounded men died on the way and were buried in the woods. The showers under which the march to the fort had prevailed, ceased for a week or more, followed by a season of hot, dry weather, the river at that point had shrunk,and the water was scarcely of sufficient depth to float the craft. As quickly as possible, things were gotten in readiness, the Choctaws were again left to shift for themselves, and Bienville and his command drifted down the river to Fort Tombeckbe. Here he left De Berthel in command, with a year’s supply of provisions, a quantity of merchandise with which to trade with the Indians, the wounded men to be cared for till restored, and Bienville, with spirit much subdued and humiliated over his discomfiture, returned to Mobile.
But what had become of D’Artaguette and his three hundred? His fate was the saddest. In seeking to comply with the request of Bienville to join him in the expedition against the fort, he had fallen in with a body of Chickasaws, who, by superior numbers, had overwhelmed him and captured him and his entire command. Himself and his men were prisoners in the fort during the engagement, and the ammunition used by the Chickasaws was that captured from the ill-fated D’Artaguette. Up to the time of the attack on the fort, D’Artaguette and his men were as well treated as Indians can treat the captured, but on the retirement of Bienville, D’Artaguette and his men were tied to stakes and burned.
For all the disasters attendant on the ill-starred campaign, including that of the fate of D’Artaguette, Bienville was held responsible by the Paris government, with which he lost favor, and the wane of influence and of power followed. Bienville was a victim of conditions over which no mortal could have had control, but it was a juncture of conditionsthat sometimes comes to the most meritorious of men, into which Bienville was brought, and he had to be sacrificed. While the work that he did laid the foundation of the civilization of three southern commonwealths, he was removed in dishonor, and left the scene of action and sank from view forever.
About the year 1721, a body of German colonists reached Mobile, and settled in the region adjoining. Among them was a woman of unusual personal beauty and of rare charm of manner. Her dress, and especially her jewels, indicated not only her station, but her wealth. She caused it to be understood that she was the daughter of the Duke of Brunswick Wolfenbuttel and the wife of Alexis Petrowitz, the son of Peter the Great, and accounted for her strange presence in the wilds of south Alabama, as due to the fact that she had been cruelly treated by the heir to the Russian throne; that she had fled the dominion of the great Peter, and for security, had sought the most distant region known to her. She furthermore asserted that the younger Peter had duly advertised the death of his wife, but insisted that the monstrous Muskovite had done this in order to conceal the scandal of her forced flight from his castle, and in order, too, to explain her absence from the court circles of St. Petersburg.
All this she explained to be a mere ruse, and that she was the real princess who had escaped his tyranny, preferring the inhospitable wilderness of a distant continent, to the royal palace with its tyrannous cruelty. The story received general credence, since the splendor of her attire and her familiarity with the inner secrets of the Russian court proved that she was no ordinary personage. Besides all this, there was increased evidence afforded by her conduct. Her beautiful face was saddened by someevident trouble over which she seemed to brood, as with a far-away look she would sit and muse for hours together. How else could all this be explained, save by the story which she related? This is just the evidence one would look for in substantiation of a story of cruelty.
The prepossessing manner of the princess, her immense fortune, and her ability to discuss Russian affairs, served to win not alone the confidence of all, but their sympathy as well. Her wrongs were the burden of her conversation, and her own reported station in life elicited much deference, which was duly and promptly accorded by all alike.
Great as the credence was, as a result of the recital of her wrongs, it received a reinforcement from another source that seemed to place it beyond question. Chevalier d’Aubant, a young French officer, had seen the wife of the Russian prince, and he declared that this was none other than she. He could not be mistaken, for he had seen her at St. Petersburg. This insistence settled the identity of the princess in the estimation of all.
But d’Aubant did not stop at this point of mere recognition. His profound sympathy awoke interest, which brought him frequently within the circle of the charms of the fair Russian, and, in turn, interest deepened into tenderness of affection. To the vivacious Frenchman, the glitter of wealth was far from proving an obstruction to the valiantness with which he assailed the citadel of her heart. At any rate, the chevalier and princess became one, lived in comparative splendor for years, and removed toParis, where, in sumptuous apartments, they resided till the death of the chevalier.
The deep shadow which had come into the life of the princess, according to her own story, won her hosts of friends whom she was able to retain by reason of her charms. The well-known character of the second Peter, a dissolute, worthless wretch, and the fact that his father had sent him abroad in Europe, to travel with the hope that his ways might be reformed by a wider margin of observation of the affairs of the world, lent increased credence to the pathetic story and elicited fresh installments of interest and sympathy. Chevalier d’Aubant died in the belief that he had married the repudiated wife of the eldest son of Peter the Great of Russia.
But a fatal revelation was inevitable. It is said that while strolling in the Garden of the Tuileries she was one day met by the marshal of Saxe, who recognized her as one of the attendants of the Russian princess, an humble female who greatly resembled her mistress, and by reason of her contact with the most elevated of Russian society, had acquired the manners of the best, and while in the service of the princess had means of access to her wardrobe and purse, and by stealth, had enriched herself and at an unconjectured time fled the palace and escaped to America. The Chevalier d’Aubant, having seen the princess once, was easily deceived by the appearance of this woman, her wealth, and by the reputation of the Russian prince. On her ill-gotten wealth he lived for years, and died in blissful ignorance of her huge pretension.
It is said that the pretender died at last in absolute penury in Paris, leaving an only daughter as the result of the marriage with Chevalier d’Aubant. The story has been related in different forms by different writers, and at one time was quite prevalent as a sensational romance in the literary circles of Europe. The particulars of this rare adventure may be found recorded in much of the literature of that period, some insisting on its accuracy, while others deny it. Duclos, a prolific writer of European romance, furnishes the amplest details of the affair, while such writers as Levesque, in his Russian history; Grimm, in his correspondence, and Voltaire, straightway repudiate the genuineness of the story on the basis of its improbability. The incidents of the time at the Russian court, the career of d’Aubant, and much else afford some reason for believing that there is at bottom, some occasion for a romance so remarkable.
Without here insisting on its genuineness, such is the story, in one of its forms, as it has come to the present. However, this, as well as much else, indicates how much of interesting matter lies in literary mines unworked in connection with our primitive history. The literary spirit of the South has never been properly encouraged by due appreciation, with the consequence of a scant literature. The industrial spirit seized our fathers in other years, and the fabulous fertility of our soils, the cultivation of which beneath fervid skies, in an even climate, has largely materialized our thought, and still does. Who now reads a book? If so, what is the character of the book? We scan the morning daily, orread at sleepy leisure the evening press, skim the magazines, and this usually tells the story. From sire to son this has been the way gone for generations. Permit the bare statement without the moralizing.
In advance of the territorial construction of Alabama, this region had been sought as a refuge by adherents of the British crown during the stormy days of the Revolution, while others who were loyal Americans, also came to escape the horrors of war in the Carolinas. All these filed through the dense forests which covered the intervening distance at that early day. Across Georgia, the most western of the thirteen colonies, they fled, putting the Chattahoochee between them and the thunder of war, and buried themselves in the obscurity of the Alabama forests. These forests had remained unbroken from the beginning, now pierced here and there by the wide beaten paths of the Indian. Several of these paths became, in subsequent years, highways of primitive commerce, running from terminal points hundreds of miles apart.
The Indian knew nothing of roads and bridges, his nearest approach to the last named of these conveniences being fallen trees across the lesser streams. Nor had he the means of constructing them, as he was dependent on the flint implements which he rudely constructed into hatchets and wedges. By means of these, he would fashion his light canoe from the less heavy woods, like the cedar and birch, which were easily worked while in a green state, but when dry became firm and light and well suited to float the waters of the streams and bays. While in a green state, the trunks of these trees were hollowed out with each endcurved up, and the paddles were made from slabs riven from some timbers light and strong. These canoes served to transport them across the streams, and afforded the means of fishing and hunting. When not in use, craft like this was secured to trees by means of muscadine vines. These were the conditions found by the white man when he came to invade the domain of the Indian.
With his improved implements of iron and steel trees were easily felled by the paleface, rafts were built, bridges were constructed, and by degrees, as the population grew, roads were opened. The refugees from the storms of war who came about 1777, followed the Indian trails when they could, but now and then they would have to plunge into the thick forests, pick their way as best they could through a tangled wilderness, and pursue their course to their destination. By immigrants like these, some of the territory stretching from the western confine of Florida to the Tombigbee, came to be peopled in the first years of the nineteenth century, and for more than two decades before.
Localities in the present territory of the counties of Monroe, Clarke, Baldwin and Washington were occupied as early as 1778. Some of the white men in the lower part of Monroe County married Indian maidens, from which connections came some of the families that subsequently became conspicuous in the early annals of the state. Among such may be named the Weatherfords, Taits, Durants, and Tunstalls. In the bloody scenes which followed in Indian warfare, some of these espoused the cause of one race, and some the other. Not a few of these becamewealthy, according to the estimate of the times; some were intelligent and influential, and imparted a wholesome influence to the early society of the state.
Primitive commerce was quickened along the great beaten pathways in consequence of the advent of the whites. These original highways extended from the ports of Mobile and Pensacola long distances into the interior. One of these ran from Pensacola by way of Columbus, Georgia, to Augusta, where was intersected another, which reached to Charleston. Another ran by way of Florence and Huntsville to Nashville, whence it extended as far north as old Vincennes, on the Wabash. Through the ports of Mobile and Pensacola exports were made to distant parts, as primitive craft was always in wait for these commodities at these ports. The commodities were brought from the interior on pack horses, or rather ponies, which commodities consisted of indigo, rawhides, corn, cattle, tallow, tar, pitch, bear’s oil, tobacco, squared timber, myrtle wax, cedar posts and slabs, salted wild beef, chestnuts, pecans, shingles, dried salt fish, sassafras, sumach, wild cane, staves, heading hoops, and pelfry.
The introduction of cotton had begun long before the invention of the gin by Eli Whitney, in 1792. The seeds were first picked from the cotton with the fingers, which was improved later by some small machines, the appearance of which was hailed as a great advance on previous methods, and an early chronicler records the fact with much elation, that by means of the method of these small French machines as much as seventy pounds of cottonwere cleared of seed in a day. The commodities already named were transported to the sea on small, scrawny ponies, usually called “Indian ponies,” tough, and possessing a power of endurance against hardship and fatigue that was wonderful. The cost of transportation was practically nothing, as these animals were hobbled at noon and at night, and turned out to graze to the full on the rank grass and native peavines, and, when in the region of a low country, on young cane. The weight of a load was usually one hundred and eighty pounds, one-third of which was balanced in bundles or packs on either side, while a third was secured in the center on the back of the animal. Ten of these ponies were assigned to a single “drover,” who walked in the rear of the drove and managed all by wild yelling. After one or two trips over the same way, the ponies came to learn where to stop for water and encampment. They often wore bells of different tones, the wild clangor of which bells would fill the surrounding forest for great distances. When loaded, the ponies would fall into line at a given signal of the “drover,” each knowing his place in the file, and amble away with ears thrown back, going ordinarily the distance of twenty-five miles each day. Some of the streams were fordable, while others had to be swum by these primitive express trains. Camping places became famous along the different routes, at which points all the droves came to camp.
As commerce thus grew, there came anon highwaymen who would rob the droves of their burdens. One of these robbers became as notorious as DareDevil Dick in English annals. His name was Hare, and Turk’s Cave, in Conecuh County, was the place for the deposit of his booty. With the years, this obstruction was removed. By means of this traffic not a few accumulated considerable fortunes, the traditions of whose wealth still linger in the older regions, with many extravagant stories attending. These stories embodied in a volume would give an idea of the ups and downs of these early times in Alabama.
The Indian viewed with envious eye the pale-faced invader who dared to “squat” on his dominions, for which he had slight use save for that of hunting. The law of the untutored savage is revenge, and to the Indian revenge means murder. The safety of the whites lay in the community of interest and a common bond of protection. In every large settlement or group of settlements there was built a local stockade of protection and defense, while in a given region there was erected a large fort, to be occupied in case of serious danger, or of general attack. Of these there was a large number throughout the territory of Alabama. There was no basis by which the Indian could be judged. He was a stealthy, treacherous fellow, who was constantly lurking about the homes of the first settlers, in order to wreak vengeance on the women and children, to massacre whom the Indian thought would force the retirement of the men.
Among the strange incidents connected with the menacing presence of the Indian during the primitive period of the state’s history, was that of the conduct of the horses and cows when a savage would come within easy distance. Whether grazing or at work, these animals would instinctively lift their heads and raise their tails, while with protruding ears they would indicate the direction of the savage. More than that, they would frequently give demonstration to their excitement by running here and there, and stop only to turn their ears inthe direction of the approaching or lurking Indian. They did not see him, but by some other means, perhaps by the keen sense of smell, they could detect the presence of the savage, even while he was some distance away. It was thus that these animals became danger signals which no one dared disregard. Not infrequently a horse would stop while plowing, lift his head, snuff the air, and give other indications of excitement, all of which would put one duly on guard. By this infallible sign, much violence was averted and many lives saved. The ears of the brutes became almost as valuable to these pioneers, as the needle of the compass to the mariner, and certainly the protruding ear was just as unerring as the pointing of the needle.
Another fact which became proverbial among the primitive settlers was, with regard to young children, especially helpless babies, in the presence of excitement and danger. Not infrequently mothers would have but a few minutes in which to flee for safety to the nearest stockade, and often they would snatch their sleeping babes from their cradles, in order to make hasty flight, and the remarkable fact is that the little ones would never cry. In their flight, mothers would sometimes stumble and fall with their babes in their arms, but the little ones would still hold their peace. These facts became proverbial among the pioneers.
The condition to which one may become inured or accustomed, was abundantly illustrated in pioneer life. Occasional danger would have made life well nigh unbearable, but when it was frequent, when one did not know when he was to be pounced uponfrom some covert, by an Indian, it came to be a matter of constant expectation, and was no more thought of than any other ordinary condition of life. Of course, with danger always impending, men went armed, and the constant expectation of attack reduced the condition to one of the most ordinary. Men generally felt but little concern about themselves, but they were gravely concerned about their dependable families. These hardy men of the frontier usually became indifferent to personal danger, which fact greatly impressed the savage. While he hated the paleface, he dreaded to encounter him. Only under conditions of advantage, or when so penned that there was but slight hope of escape, would the Indian dare to engage in open fight with a white man. The skill of the Indian was limited, while the cool calculation of the white man would enable him the more readily to comprehend a given situation. In a reëncounter the Indian would always act with precipitation, while the white man would act with calculation, even under a stress of exciting conditions. This was often illustrated in the difference of the conduct of the two races.
One chief advantage the Indian enjoyed over the white man—he could easily outrun him. The Indian was trained to fleetness of foot from early childhood. He could run with bent form, faster than could the white in an upright position.
It was almost incredible how rapidly the Indian could penetrate the tangled underbrush in flight, or in seeking the advantage of a foe. Athletic training was common among all the tribes. On just two things the Indian relied, one of which was his fleetnessof foot and the other his ambuscade, unless he was forced into a condition of desperation, when he would become the most terrible of antagonists. While the sinews of the Indian were toughened by his mode of life, his muscles were kept in a perfectly flexible condition. This was in part due to his constant exposure to the open air. He slept and lived in the open. The consequence was that the constitution of the Indian was rarely impaired by disease. Active exercise, in which he every day indulged, the open air, simple food, and sleeping on the hard earth, made him an athlete, and among them there were often prodigies of strength.
The Indian spurned ease, and to him clothing was an encumbrance. It was like a child encased in a shield. On the other hand, the white man coveted ease. In those early days, and even for generations later, the white man would regard a bed uncomfortable unless it was of feathers, and he would never walk when there was a possibility of riding. In physical strength and endurance, therefore, the Indian was the superior, while in coolness and in calculation, and in the rapid husbanding of resource, the white man was at an immense advantage, and this made him the dominant factor.
This last element stood the whites well in hand in their intercourse with the Indians. Treacherous to the utmost, the Indian, in his pretensions of friendship, came to be a study to the frontierman, and rarely was one thrown off his guard by the pretended warning of an Indian. Oftener than otherwise, given advice of impending danger, by an Indian, was reversed, and savages were oftenintercepted in fell design by the whites, who came readily to detect the treacherous purpose of the Indian. When suddenly foiled, no people were more easily demoralized than were the Indians. Of these characteristics, as frequently displayed, we shall have occasion to take note in these sketches.
The name of Alexander McGillivray is inseparable from the earliest annals of Alabama history. So notorious was he, that to omit his name from the records of the state, would be to occasion a serious gap. Though a private citizen, McGillivray, in the sway of power, was practically a sovereign. In the constitution of this wonderful man were extraordinary force, comprehensive resourcefulness, unquestioned magnetism, and sinisterness of purpose, rarely equaled. He was born to dominate, and his facility for planning and scheming, as well as for executing, was phenomenal. Nor was the dominion of his influence restricted to Alabama, for it extended into Georgia and Florida, and reached even the seat of the national government, which was at that time, seeking to stand erect in its emergence from infantile conditions.
McGillivray was the Machiavelli of these early times. With a gaze lifted immensely above that of his contemporaries, he planned vast designs, while the order of mind of this remarkable man was such that, in the requisite details of execution, he could fit and adjust conditions with a skill so marvelous, and a precision so exact, as to be able to accomplish all to which he set his hand.
His mind was fertile, his vision comprehensive, his judgment unerring, his skill adroit, his cunning foxy, his facilities without seeming limit, and his absence of principle as void as space. His plans were often a network of tangled schemes, so wrought into eachother, that to most men involved in such, there would be no possibility of escape, but under the manipulation of this master of craft and of intrigue, they would be brought to a culmination invested with so much plausibility, as to divest them of any open appearance of wrong. McGillivray was always cool and collected, suave and smiling, and could make so fair a show of sincerity and of innocence, backed by a cogency of assertion, as often to make the false wear the mask of truth.
The times in which McGillivray lived were exceedingly favorable to the cultivation of his character. That which he did would have been unnatural with an ordinary man, but to Alexander McGillivray, and to the period in which he lived, nothing seemed more natural. The times were out of joint, his native gifts were exceptional, the period afforded just the orbit for their exercise, and with audacious effrontery he seized on every chance to execute his fell designs.
The close of the Revolution had left the country in a deplorable condition. The demoralization which inevitably follows in the wake of war, was one of unusual seriousness to the young American nation. Added to that of widespread disaster was the sudden transition from colonial conditions, under the crown, to that of republican independence. History has failed to emphasize the moral and social conditions in the American territory, incident to the Revolution, which conditions imposed a herculean task on our primitive statesmen. At best, the undertaking of a free government, under conditions such as then prevailed, was an experiment on whichthe hoary nations of Europe looked with doubting interest.
Under the conditions of universal demoralization, the task was assumed of welding into coherency the scattered elements of population, which population viewed freedom more as license than as liberty, and with an interpretation like this, there was a greater tendency toward viciousness and criminality than toward a patriotic interest in the erection of stable government. Then, too, the untutored savage still roved the forests, and his wigwam settlements extended from limit to limit of the territory of the prospective nation. The savage was revengeful, and stood in defiance of the encroachment of the whites on his rightful domain. It was under conditions like these that the unscrupulous McGillivray came on the scene with all his seductive arts.
In point of diplomacy, he was the peer of any man on the continent, while in cunning unscrupulousness he was unapproached by any. To scheme was to him a natural gift; to plot was his delight, and to him intrigue was a mere pastime. His machinations were so adroitly shaped as to enable him to rally to his aid forces the most opposite and contradictory, and yet into each of his wily schemes he could infuse the ardor of enthusiasm. The danger embodied in McGillivray was that he was not only bad, but that he was so ably and atrociously wicked. In his veins ran the blood of three races—Indian, Scotch, and French. His grandfather, Captain Marchand, was a French officer, his father, a Scotchman, and his mother, one-half Indian. Alexander inherited the strongest traits of these three races. He had thequick but seductive perception of the French, the cool calculation and dogged persistency of the Scotch, and the subtle shrewdness and treachery of the Indian. Possessing these traits to a preëminent degree, they were greatly reinforced by an education derived from the best schools of the time, he having been educated at Charleston, South Carolina. He was Chesterfieldian in conventional politeness, and as smooth as Talleyrand in ambiguity of speech. Apparently the fairest and most loyal of men, he possessed a depth of iniquity inconceivable.
His father, Lachlan McGillivray, had run away from his home in Scotland when a lad of sixteen, and reached Charleston about forty years before the outbreak of the Revolution. Penniless and friendless, he engaged to drive pack-horses, laden with goods, to the Indian settlements on the Chattahoochee. His only compensation for the trip was a large jackknife, which proved the germ of a subsequent fortune. Nothing was more highly prized at that time, than a good jackknife. Lachlan McGillivray exchanged his knife for a number of deer skins, which commanded an exorbitant price in the markets of Charleston. Investment followed investment, which resulted in increasing dividends to the Scotch lad, so that by the time he was fully grown, he owned two plantations on the Savannah River, both of which were stocked with negro slaves. He later came to possess large commercial interests, both in Savannah and Augusta, and having married the half-breed Indian girl, in Alabama, he owned large interests in this state. He had, besides Alexander, three other children. One of these married a French officer,Le Clerc Milfort, who became a brigadier-general in the army of Napoleon, while another became the wife of Benjamin Durant, a wealthy Huguenot merchant, the ancestor of the present Durants in Mobile and Baldwin counties, while another still, married James Bailey, a half-breed, who was subsequently a conspicuous defender of Fort Mims. These names are suggestive of fountain sources of history. This brief introduction prepares us to enter on the remarkable career of Alexander McGillivray.
Among the other traits of Alexander McGillivray was that of an insufferable vanity. The Indians came to recognize him as their chief, but this he indignantly put aside and named himself “the emperor.” Designing the career of his son to be that of a merchant, Lachlan McGillivray had afforded him every possible educational advantage that the most advanced schools could give, but the young man chafed under the restrictions of commercial life and left his father’s home, which was now in Georgia, and returned to Wetumpka, the scene of his birth and childhood, and allied himself with the Indians of that region. Most opportune was the time to young McGillivray, for the Creeks had become involved in a serious disturbance with the whites of Georgia, and were in search of a competent leader who could cope with the situation.
The American Revolution was now in progress. The British, here and there about the South, were active through the Tories, in inciting to rebellion the ferocious Indians. Every wrong was exaggerated, and many supposed wrongs were created, to engender strife between the whites and the Indians. On reaching Wetumpka, young McGillivray was hailed as their chief and as the man who had come to the kingdom for such a time as this. Fresh from academic honors, the youth was altogether responsive to the flatteries of the Indians. Proclaiming himself the emperor of the Creeks, he donned their garb, and became their idol. He beganhis operations on a scale so delightful to the Indians, that he won their confidence at once.
His movements attracted the attention of the British authorities at Pensacola, and there was tendered him a colonelcy in their army, without interference with his chiefship in the Indian tribe. He was placed on the payroll of the English army and exchanged his toggery of the Indian chief for the crimson uniform of the British colonel. This was an occasion of fascination to the Indians, who exulted in the promotion of their young chief. McGillivray now had everything his way. He plied his seductive arts, and there was nothing that he desired that was withheld. The Indians doted on him, and the pride of the young man knew no limit. He proved a skillful leader in battle, courageous and strategic, but his sphere was in the field of diplomacy. He left others to lead in fight, while he solicited the aid of Indians in the service of the king of England. In the ranks of the Tories, none was so efficient as was McGillivray, yet when the war closed disastrously to the crown, and when the British had no further use for him, they abandoned him to his fate, took his commission from him, and cared no more for him.
While the result was disastrous to the British arms, it was exceedingly so to the McGillivrays. The father had been a devoted loyalist throughout, and when peace was declared his property was confiscated, he was left without a penny, and, worse still, the Whigs thirsted for his blood. They sought to find him, and, without a dime in his pocket, he fled the country and returned to Europe, after makingmany narrow escapes, for had he been captured, he would have paid the penalty of his loyalty to the British crown by dangling from the end of a rope. All that saved Alexander’s neck was that he was recognized the chief of the Indian tribes whom the Americans were eager to conciliate. The conditions created by the close of the war afforded to Colonel McGillivray a fresh opportunity for new alliances on a new field.
Impoverished by the calamitous result of the Revolution, Colonel McGillivray was more enraged than dispirited, and in seeking new connections, he turned to the Spanish, who recognized the services of so valuable an ally, and were not slow to use him. In order to facilitate their schemes they gave to McGillivray the commission of colonel in the Spanish army on full pay, and besides, made him commissary commissioner to the Creek Indians, whom to win to the loyalty of Spain there was offered to them open ports on the Gulf coast for the shipment of their peltry.
This latter position gave to McGillivray vast advantage, as his palms itched for Spanish gold, much of which he handled in this new relation. Having the confidential ear of both parties, McGillivray was not slow to replenish his impoverished purse. He was equally the trusted counselor of both, and was not hindered in cross-purposes by any scruple, to make the most of the advantage afforded. He was the prince of plotters, and the impersonation of selfishness. A treaty was entered into at Augusta, Georgia, between the white settlers and the Creeks, respecting the lands, which treaty was repudiatedby the Indian tribes, and led to outbreaks of violence on the part of the savages. This action was inspired by McGillivray, the promotion of whose interest lay in agitation and disturbance. Outbreaks became general, as the result of the instigation of McGillivray, who did nothing openly, but inspired the Spanish to stimulate the animosity of the savages against the white settlers.
Conditions rapidly assumed an aspect of gravity, and outbreaks became so general, that it was necessary for the American government to take the matter seriously in hand, and to seek to placate the Indians. A commission of able men was appointed by congress, under the leadership of General Andrew Pickens, to negotiate with the Indians, with the end in view of adjusting all differences. General Pickens addressed a letter to McGillivray, which communication was a masterpiece of astute diplomacy. While it bristles with threat, it is at the same time pervaded by conditional conciliation; while stout in the assertion of independence, it is yet concessive in tone, and while it promises direful consequences in case the general government declines to recognize the rights of the Indians, it adroitly injects, in a patronizing way, the suggestion that the Americans who had wrested independence from the British crown would be glad to be in position to accord great consideration to the unfortunate Indian.
Able as General Pickens was in the field of statescraft, it was impossible for him so to depress the standard of his character to such a plane as to be able to cope with the villainy of McGillivray. The difficulty lay in the fact that the two men were workingfrom two opposite points. Pickens was seeking reconciliation, while this was precisely what McGillivray did not wish. Pickens was seeking to heal a serious breach, while it was to the interest of McGillivray to keep it as wide open as possible. However, negotiations were arranged for and the congressional commission was to meet, in council, Colonel McGillivray, at Golphinton.
At great sacrifice, and by laborious travel, the commissioners of the government, under General Pickens, made their way to Golphinton, when, lo! McGillivray was not there. Instead, he had sent to represent the Indians, the chiefs of two towns, accompanied by about sixty warriors. As negotiations had been conducted by McGillivray, and as his presence was necessary to consummate the proposed treaty, there was not only disappointment on the part of the commissioners, but great indignation. Even though every chief had been present, the absence of their representative and commissioner would invalidate any agreement, and this McGillivray well knew.
Nonplused by his absence, the commissioners of the government merely stated to those present that which congress desired to accomplish, and withdrew. This gave rise to fresh complications, which now assumed a three-cornered aspect, as the federal commissioners’ plans were objected to by the commissioners of Georgia, on the one hand, and by the Indians, on the other. Conditions were growing worse instead of better, much to the delight of Alexander McGillivray, who would produce such a juncture as would eventuate in his final enrichment. Without the knowledge of either of the other parties, he was pulling the wires with the hand of an adept schemer. After all the negotiation, therefore, the whole affair proved a fiasco.
Still, something must be done. Conditions could not remain as they were, and border warfare was continually imminent. The government was prostrated by the Revolution, and a general war with the Indians might invite an interference on the part of both England and Spain. President Washington was much worried and perplexed, and summoned to his aid the ablest counselors. The situation was exceedingly grave, and a single misstep might plunge the country into the most disastrous of wars.
The next step led to the appointment of Dr. James White as the superintendent of the Creek Indians. Dr. White was cool and cautious, a skilled diplomat, and was familiar with Indian treachery, while he had the advantage of enjoying, to a degree, their confidence. He was not without a sense of self-reliance in the undertaking, and if he could not succeed in the ratification of a treaty, he would so probe into the situation as to glean facts which would enable the government the better to adopt proper policies. He knew McGillivray well, and was not averse to a tilt in diplomacy with this arch plotter and schemer. He at once wrote to McGillivray from Cusseta, setting forth his mission and that which he proposed to accomplish. The reply was one of equivocal phraseology, lengthy, shrewd, evasive. It might mean anything or nothing, and was susceptible to a variety of interpretations. The upshot of the correspondence was a meeting at Cusseta. This time McGillivray was present with a proposal to the national commissioner, which proposal was astounding and startling. Surrounded by a large number of chiefs, McGillivray submittedhis unreasonable proposal. This occurred in April, 1787.
The proposal, in brief, was that the general government make large and unreasonable grants, with the alternative of a prompt acceptance, or that of a declaration of war on the first of the following August, just four months hence. McGillivray knew that the proposed conditions would not be acceptable, and he also knew the consequences of a war to the young nation. Matters were not growing better fast. Here was a juncture that called for the skill of the ripest statesmanship. The general government and the state of Georgia were as much out of accord, as were both, with the Indians. It was an opportunity which the keen McGillivray could not suffer to remain unused. It was a matter of bargain and trade with him, and the question uppermost with him was how much he could derive from it.
So astounding was the proposal, that Dr. White found himself a pigmy dealing with a colossus, and he could do nothing more than to report to the President the result of the meeting. All the while, McGillivray was shuffling with the Spanish authorities in such a way as to extort large sums of gold from them, while he was dissembling with the American government for a similar reason, using meanwhile the deluded Indian as an instrument to promote his designs. He would hold the Indian in his grip by an affected solicitude in his behalf, while he would promise certain results to Spain for given sums, and meanwhile agitate Washington with a threat of war. Men and interests, however sacred, were to him as puppets to be employed for the profoundest selfishness.He would create demonstrations of hostility on the part of the Indians, in order to extort from interested merchants tribute to quell the disturbance. He would threaten Spain with America, and America with Spain, thereby producing alarming conditions in the commercial world, and from nations and merchants alike, he reaped booty.
Exasperated to a pitch almost uncontrollable, Washington at one time thought of a war of extermination, but this would involve the lives and property of the people of the whole South, involve the country seriously with England and Spain, and leave a stain on the American government, and the idea was abandoned. Resourceful as he was, Washington had practically reached the limit of suggestiveness when it occurred to him to appoint a secret agent charged with the mission of inviting a big council of the Indian chiefs to repair on horseback all the way from Alabama and Georgia to New York, then the seat of national government, in order to confer with him in person in the adjustment of all grievances. Colonel Marinus Willett was chosen by the President for this delicate and difficult function.
Taking a ship at New York, Colonel Willett was just fourteen weeks reaching Charleston, from which point he immediately set out along the Indian trails on horseback for the region of the Chattahoochee. He was served by faithful Indian guides, and through many days of hard riding, he proceeded to his destination where he had arranged a meeting with McGillivray and all the great chiefs. Conditions were now favoring McGillivray, for he wellknew that he had produced grave concern at the national capital, and was abundantly prepared for the result which he was now nursing. According to prearrangement, Colonel Willett and Colonel McGillivray met at the town of Ocfuske, on the Tallapoosa River. McGillivray found his match in Colonel Willett, who was as skilled in the art of diplomacy as was McGillivray, but without his unscrupulousness.
The diplomats met—Willett and McGillivray. Willett was polite, courtly of address, skillful of speech, resourceful, but wary. McGillivray was suave, excessive in politeness, equivocal of speech, deceitful, ostensibly generous, though as treacherous as a serpent. Both were able. Each had had much to do with men and affairs, but the motives of the two were as wide as the poles. In the assembled council, Willett showed that he was at home. Under the guise of excessive politeness, the two played against each other for advantage with the skill of trained fencers. There was a mastery of self-confidence that equally possessed both. Each spoke in a measured, cautious way. With mutual distrustfulness, each vied with the other in courtesy of tone. Objections were met and verbal blows were parried with a degree of politeness that approached the obsequious. It was Greek meeting Greek. The widest discretion was Willett’s in arranging for the proposed council in New York, where the Indian chiefs were invited by the “great President” to meet him.
With the mastery of a skilled disputant, Colonel Willett addressed the assembled chiefs, including, of course, Colonel McGillivray. The pith of his speech was that “our great chief, George Washington,” had sent him to convey to them a message of cordial affection, and to invite them to his great council house in New York, where he wished to sign with his own hand, along with ColonelMcGillivray, a treaty of peace and of alliance. He assured them of the high regard entertained for them by “our great chief,” who did not want their lands, but wished to see them happy, contented, and protected. He further assured them that Washington would make a treaty “as strong as the hills and as lasting as the rivers.” His tone of address and assurance of sincerity greatly pleased the assembly.
The result of the meeting, which lasted for hours, was that a deputation of chiefs, together with Colonel McGillivray, would accompany Willett on horseback to New York. Arrangements for transporting the baggage on horses were made, and the day appointed for the departure. Accordingly, Colonels Willett and McGillivray, a nephew of Colonel McGillivray, and a body of Indian chiefs filed out of Little Tallassee, near Wetumpka, on the morning of June 1, 1790, for the distant capital. Along the way the party was reinforced by other chiefs on horseback, who were in wait for the arrival of Willett and McGillivray. At Stone Mountain, Georgia, the two great chiefs of the Cowetas and Cussetas joined the party. Onward the procession moved, exciting much interest, and in certain quarters, not a little sensation. On reaching the home of General Andrew Pickens, on the Seneca River, in South Carolina, they were received with the utmost cordiality by this distinguished gentleman, who arranged for more comfortable means of travel. Here the party fell in with the Tallassee king, Chinnobe, the “great Natchez warrior,” and others. Henceforth the Indians rode in wagons, excepting the four whowere the bodyguard of Colonel McGillivray, who accompanied him on horseback, while Colonel Willett rode alone in a sulky. At Richmond and at Fredericksburg the party halted to rest, at which places much consideration was shown to Colonel McGillivray. Distinguished honor was shown the entire party at Philadelphia, where they were entertained for three days. Boarding a sloop at Elizabethtown, New Jersey, they were finally landed in New York.
Now began a series of demonstrations that lasted through a number of days. The sachems of Tammany Hall turned out in full regalia, met the deputation at the water’s edge in lower New York, which was at that time about all there was of the city, marched up Wall Street, then the principal thoroughfare of the city, past the federal building, where congress was in session, then to the home of the President, with that pomp and ceremony of which Washington was very fond. Each member of the deputation was presented to the President, while the eyes of the enchanted chiefs fairly glittered with delight as they unceremoniously gazed on the scenes about them in the mansion of the President. Washington could not outdo Colonel McGillivray in conventionality in the exchange of greeting. Both were men of splendid physique, McGillivray being just six feet high, with broad shoulders, well proportioned, and as straight as a flagstaff. From the home of the President the procession filed to the office of the secretary of war, thence to the mansion of Governor Clinton, all of which being over, they were marched for entertainment to theprincipal hostelry of the city, the City Tavern, where a banquet was spread for the unique deputation, when the functions of the first day were closed.
Other notable attentions charmed the visiting chiefs, whose elation over the novel scenes in which they were the principal sharers was equaled alone by the concern of Colonel McGillivray regarding what all this might mean for him. The chiefs of the wilds were easily beguiled by these profuse attentions, but not so the wily McGillivray. With sedulous care he kept the chiefs well under his thumb, lest they might fall into other hands, by means of which they might be alienated from himself.
After some days, negotiations were entered on between McGillivray and the Indian chiefs, on the one hand, and Henry Knox, the chosen representative of the government, on the other. With cautious vigilance on the part of both Knox and McGillivray, each step in the proceeding was taken. Knox knew his man, and McGillivray knew what he wished, and all else was made subservient to that purpose. McGillivray was as free in the ply of his art in the metropolis, as he was beneath the native oaks of his tribe on the distant Coosa. Nothing daunted him, and with dexterity he employed his art as the situation was gone into. A sensational episode occurred in connection with the proceedings. Washington learned that the Spanish of Florida and of Louisiana, having heard of the departure on this mission of McGillivray and his chiefs, had dispatched a secret agent with a bag of Spanish gold, by ship to New York, to bribe the chiefs and prevent a treaty. McGillivray wore their uniform, bore a commission ascolonel in their army, and was their agent, but their confidence in him was naught, hence the mission of the agent. This agent was detected on his arrival, and was shadowed by an officer from the moment he touched the soil of the city. The agent was never able to reach the Indians. With consummate skill the contest continued from day to day, McGillivray determined to force the initiative in the offer to be made, before he would agree to commit himself. He was a plausible enigma to the statesmen at New York, whom he forced to show their hands before he would agree to disclose his purposes and wishes.
While several previous articles have been devoted to the notorious career of Alexander McGillivray, there was a phase of the situation which logically belongs to the interesting proceedings in New York which should not be omitted, and when read in connection with facts already presented, adds increased interest to the narrative.
Keeping his plans well to himself, McGillivray was quietly breeding schemes with which to baffle the able men at the national capital. For days together, the negotiations were kept up, and they were days of serious concern and of lingering suspense to President Washington. The parleying and dallying led to the apprehension that McGillivray would propose terms so startling, as to end the whole affair with a fiasco, and in view of the recent demonstration, reduce the situation to governmental mortification. On the other hand. McGillivray was apprehensive that his intended proposals would be rejected, hence his tactical delay and parley. Knox was patient, McGillivray impatient. At last Knox was able to force from the wily trickster and supple diplomat the condition on which he would be willing to sign the treaty. It proved to be an occasion of as much elation to the one as to the other. McGillivray chuckled over his success, while the government congratulated itself on the settlement of terms so easy.
When, at last, McGillivray stated his terms, they were that fifteen hundred dollars in gold should bepaid him outright by the government annually, together with other easy emoluments, yet to be named, and a certain quantity of merchandise, with certain limited sums of money to the Indians each year, for which consideration the vast domains of the Oconees were to be surrendered, while they were to remain under the peaceable protection of the United States, and form no treaties with any others. Yet, on account of that which occasioned this treaty so cheaply, much suspense and terror had been created and much blood spilled, and not a few whites were even then in bondage to the Indians. These slaves were to be liberated, and the two powerful tribes, the Creeks and the Seminoles, were to become subject to the general government. Paltry as the consideration was, McGillivray got the utmost of his wishes, and crowed over the result.
The infamy of this malicious character grows in depth with the probing. Back of his tampering with different embassies in the past, his Judas-like dealing with different nations at the same time, his instigation of the tribes to outbreak, his dragging these Indian chiefs across the country all the way to New York, lay the sinister and sordid selfishness of this perfidious man, already named, McGillivray provided for himself by being made a brigadier general in the regular American army on full pay, which was at that time twelve hundred dollars, while he was to derive additional remuneration as the government agent to the Indian tribes.
Intoxicated with delight at his success, McGillivray headed the procession homeward bound, after an exchange of congratulations with PresidentWashington, where each vied with the other in stilted conventionality. McGillivray flattered the artless Indians into the belief that he had won for them a victory, and they shared with him in the gusto of his elation. His maneuvers were just such as to produce fresh plans of conspiracy and of intrigue for the future. On his return home, he doffed the uniform of the Spanish colonel, and donned that of the American brigadier, all of which heightened the admiration of the Indians, while it afforded newer opportunity to the general to lay deeper schemes and reap richer rewards. This course was occasioned by the reasons now to be given.
One of our modern investigations would have disclosed the fact that while the treaty was based on the conditions named, there lay beneath it, out of the sight of the general public, a secret treaty between President Washington and General McGillivray, on condition that he would manage the Indians as the President might desire. As a sort of secret agent, and in order to enhance his position in the estimation of the Indians, McGillivray was made a channel for the transmission of certain gifts and privileges, which he was to use to the advantage of the government, for which he cared not a thread, and he would never have become the secret purveyor, without the prospect of personal enrichment. He was to give to the Indians, in his own way, the assurance that their commerce was to find exit through the Gulf and ocean ports, while he was to present to each chief, as from himself, but really from the government, a handsome gold medal,besides a yearly gift of one hundred dollars in gold. Besides still, the government was in the same secret way to educate annually four of the Indian youth, free of all charge. All this was to be done in such manner, as to have it appear how strong was the hold and influence of McGillivray on the general government, and thus maintain his grip on the Indians. This looks a little nebulous, from the government side, but it is a matter of history, and at the time, was known only to the favored few. History, like the sea, has hidden depths. That which Washington wished, was to keep in subjection the troublesome Indian; that which McGillivray wished was the enhancement of his importance, in order to the gratification of his personal vanity, and in order, too, to a plethoric purse. At any rate, such are the facts. What our modern muckrakers might make of a proceeding like this now, deponent knoweth not. While in the state councils of New York, there was silent and suppressed glee over the result, in the heart of Alexander McGillivray, at the same time, there were fresh schemes being incubated, as in daily meditation he southward rode. Washington thought he had McGillivray bagged, while McGillivray knew he had Washington hoodwinked. Later developments afford fresher revelations of the diabolical character of Alexander McGillivray.
A season of tranquillity ensued which Washington regarded as auspicious, when as a matter of fact it was ominous. McGillivray never intended to execute the terms of the treaty, only in so far as they would conduce to his personal ends, for on his return to the South, he at once entered into secretnegotiations with the Spanish. He explained to them that his jaunt to the capital was a mere ruse, in order to gather information, the better to aid the king of Spain, and that he was just now ready to render to Spain the most efficient service. Here, then, was an American general disporting himself in the national uniform, spurs, boots, epaulettes, and all, betraying the government into the hands of a foreign foe. While drawing the pay of a brigadier, he was, as a secret emissary of Spain, the recipient of a sum much larger.
In order, at last, to promote his schemes, he fomented strife and agitation among the chiefs, by instigating them to protest against the terms of the treaty. Meanwhile, he informed the government at New York that he was doing his utmost to enforce the terms, and must have broad discretion and ample time, in order to accomplish the end in view. Between himself and the secretary of war an active correspondence was kept up in which correspondence the atrocious Alexander McGillivray was more than a match for the cabinet officer of Washington. Thus went events for years together.