"Friends!" involuntarily repeated the American, her cheek becoming even paler than before, and her lips compressed in a way to indicate some deep and painful emotion. Again she dropped her veil.
No other notice was taken of the interruption than what the surprised manner of Major Montgomerie manifested, and the General proceeded;
"I would ask you, Major Montgomerie, to become my guest while you remain with us, but I fear that, as a bachelor, I have but indifferent accommodation to offer to your niece."
"If Miss Montgomerie will accept it," said Colonel D'Egville, interposing, "I shall be most happy to afford her the accommodation of a home until she finally departs for the opposite shore. If the attention of a family of daughters," he continued, more immediately addressing himself to the young lady, "can render your temporary sojourn among us less tedious, you have but to command them."
So friendly an offer could not well be refused. Miss Montgomerie inclined her head in acquiescence, and Colonel D'Egville drew her arm within his own.
"It were unkind," remarked the general, good-humoredly, "to separate Major Montgomerie altogether from his niece. Either the young lady must partake of our rude fare, or we shall consider ourselves included in your dinner party."
"You could not confer on me a greater pleasure, General, and indeed I was about to solicit it. Commodore Barclay, may I hope that so short and unceremonious an invitation will be excused by the circumstances? Good, I shall expect you. But there is yet another to be included among our guests. Gerald, you will not fail to conduct this gentleman, whose name I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing"—and he looked at the latter, as if he expected him to announce himself.
"I fear, sir," observed the young officer, pointedly, "that your dinner party would be little honored by such an addition. Although he wears the uniform of an American officer, this person is wholly unworthy of it and of a seat at your table."
Every eye was turned with an expression of deep astonishment on the speaker, and thence upon the form of the hitherto scarcely noticed militia officer; who, with his head sunk sullenly upon his chest, and an eye now and then raised stealthily to surrounding objects, made no attempt to refute, or even to express surprise at, the singular accusation of his captor.
"This is strong language to apply to a captive enemy, and that enemy apparently an officer," gravely remarked the general; "yet I cannot believe Mr. Grantham to be wholly without grounds for his assertion."
Before Grantham could reply, a voice in the crowd exclaimed, as if the utterer had been thrown off his guard, "What—Phil!"
On the mention of this name, the younger prisoner looked suddenly up from the earth on which his gaze had been riveted, and cast a rapid glance around him.
"Nay, nay, my young friend, do not, as I see you are, feel hurt at my observation," resumed the general, extending his hand to Gerald Grantham; "I confess I did at one moment imagine that you had been rash in your assertion, but from what has this instant occurred, it is evident your prisoner is known to others as well as to yourself. No doubt we shall have everything explained in due season. By the bye, of what nature is your wound? slight, I should say, from the indifference with which you treat it."
"Slight, General—far slighter," he continued, coloring, "than the wound that was sought to be affixed to my fair name in my absence."
All looked at the speaker, and at each other with surprise, for, as yet, there could have been no communication to him of the doubts which had been entertained.
"Who is it of you all, gentlemen," pursued the young man, with the same composedness of voice and manner, and turning particularly to the officers of the forty-first regiment, who were grouped around their chief, "Who is it, I ask, on whom has devolved the enviable duty of reporting me as capable of violating my faith as a subject, and my honor as an officer?"
There was no reply, although the same looks of surprise were interchanged; but, as he continued to glance his eye around the circle, it encountered, either by accident or design, that of Captain Molineux, on whose rather confused countenance the gaze of Henry Grantham was at that moment bent with an expression of much meaning.
"No one answers," continued the youth; "then the sting has been harmless. But I crave your pardon, General—I am claiming an exemption from censure which may not be conceded by all. Commodore, how shall I dispose of my prisoners?"
"Not so, Mr. Grantham; you have sufficiently established your right to repose, and I have already issued the necessary instructions. Yet, while you have nobly acquitted yourself ofyourduty, let me also performmine. Gentlemen," he continued, addressing the large circle of officers, "I was the first to comment on Mr. Grantham's supposed neglect of duty, and to cast a doubt on his fidelity. That I was wrong I admit, but right I trust will be my reparation, and whatever momentary pain he may experience in knowing that he has been thus unjustly judged, it will, I am sure, be more than compensated for, when he hears that by General Brock himself his defence was undertaken, even to the pledging of his own honor. Mr. Grantham," concluded the gallant officer, "how you have obtained your knowledge of the conversation that passed here during your absence, is a mystery I will not now pause to inquire into, but I would fain apologize for the wrong I have done. Have I your pardon?"
At the commencement of this address, the visible heaving of his full chest, the curling of his proud lip, and the burning flush of his dark cheek, betrayed the mortification Gerald felt, in having been placed in a position to be judged thus unjustly; but, as the commodore proceeded, this feeling gradually passed away, and when the warm defence of his conduct by the general was alluded to, closed as the information was with a request for pardon, his temporary annoyance was banished, and he experienced only the generous triumph of one who is conscious of having won his way, through calumny and slander, to the well merited approbation of all right minded men.
"Come, come," interposed the general, more touched than he was willing to appear, by the expressive manner in which the only hand of the commodore now grasped that of his lieutenant, and perceiving that the latter was about to reply—"We will defer all further explanation until a later period. But, before we depart, this person must be disposed of; Major Montgomerie, excuse my asking if you will be personally responsible for your fellow prisoner?"
"Certainly not!" returned the Major quickly, and with something like alarm at the required responsibility; "that is to say, he does not belong to the United States regular service, and I know nothing of him. Indeed, I never saw him before last night, when he joined me with a verbal message from Detroit."
Hitherto the individual spoken of had preserved an unbroken silence, keeping, as we have already shown, his gaze riveted upon the ground, except at intervals, when he looked around with an eye of suspicion, as if to measure the distance that separated him from the groups of Indians in the background. The disclaimer of the major had, however, the effect of restoring to him the use of his tongue. Casting his uncertain eye on the gentlemanly person of the latter, he exclaimed, in a tone of insufferable vulgarity:
"I'll tell you what it is, Mister Major—you may think yourself a devilish fine feller, but I guess as how an officer of the Michigan Militia is just as good and as spry as any blue coat in the United States rig'lars; so there's that (snapping his fingers) for pretendin' not to know me."
An ill-suppressed titter pervaded the group of British officers—the general alone preserving hisserieux.
"May I ask your name?" he demanded.
"I guess, gin'ril, it's Paul Emilius Theophilus Arnoldi, ensign in the United States Michigan Militia," was answered with a volubility strongly in contrast with the preceding silence of the speaker.
"Then, Mr. Arnoldi, as an officer in the American militia, you shall enjoy your liberty on parole. I need not, I presume, sir, point out to you the breach of private honor and national faith consequent on any violation of that parole."
"I guess not, gin'ril, for, I take it, the word of a Michigan militia officer is as good as that of any United States rig'lar as ever stepped in shoe leather."
Another very pardonable disposition on the part of the younger officers to indulge in mirth, was interrupted by the general, desiring a young aide-de-camp to procure the necessary billet and accommodation for Ensign Arnoldi.
These two individuals having moved away in search of the required lodging, the general, with his staff and prisoner guests, withdrew towards the fort. Their departure was the signal for the breaking up of the groups, and all dispersed to their several homes, and in pursuit of their various duties. The recently arrived Indians were distributed throughout the encampment, already occupied as we have described, and the prisoners taken in the morning were provided with suitable accommodation.
As Colonel D'Egville was about to enter the gate of the fort, with his fair charge leaning on his arm, Gerald Grantham approached the party, with the intention of addressing the general in regard to the prisoner Arnoldi; but finding him engaged in close conversation with Major Montgomerie, he lingered, as if awaiting a fitting opportunity to open the subject.
While he yet loitered, the eye of Miss Montgomerie met his. What it expressed we will not venture to describe, but its effect upon the young officer was profound. The moment before, discouraged by her apparent reserve, he had stood coldly by, but now startled into animation, he bent upon her an earnest and corresponding look; then, with a wild tumult at his heart, which he neither sought to stifle nor to analyze, and wholly forgetting what had brought him to the spot, he turned and joined his brother, who, at a short distance, stood awaiting his return.
At the garrison mess-table that evening the occurrences of the day naturally formed a chief topic of conversation; and a variety of conjectures, more or less probable, regarding the American lady, were hazarded by the officers to some of whom she had become an object of curiosity, as she had to others of interest. This conversation, necessarilyparenthèsedwith much extraneous matter, in the nature of rapid demands for solids and liquids, during the interesting period devoted to the process of mastication, finally assumed a more regular character when the cloth had been removed, and the attendants retired.
"Apropos," remarked Captain Granville, who filled the president's chair. "We ought to have toasted your brother's gallant exploit, Henry; gentlemen, fill your glasses—all full? Then I will give you the health of Lieutenant Grantham, of the squadron."
The toast was responded to by all but Captain Molineux. His glass had been filled and raised, but its contents remained untasted.
The omission was too marked not to be noticed by more than one of the party; Henry Grantham, whose eye had been fixed on Captain Molineux at the time, of course detected the slight. He sat for some minutes conversing with an unusual and evidently forced animation; then, excusing his early departure under the plea of an engagement with his brother, rose and quitted the mess-room.
"What have you done with the ugly lout you took charge of, De Courcy?" inquired Captain Cranstoun, interrupting the short and meaning pause which had succeeded to Grantham's departure.
"Why, I calculate, captain," returned the lively aid-de-camp, imitating the nasal drawl and language which had called up so much mirth, even in presence of the general—"I calculate as how I have introduced Ensign Paul, Emilius, Theophilus Arnoldi, of the United States Michigan Militia, into pretty considerable snug quarters—I have billeted him at the inn, in which he had scarcely set foot, when his first demand was for a glass of 'gin sling,' wherewith to moisten his partick'lar damn'd hot, baked clay."
"What a vulgar and uncouth animal," observed St. Clair, a Captain of Engineers—"I am not at all surprised at Major Montgomerie's disinclination to acknowledge him as a personal acquaintance."
"It is to be hoped," said De Courcy, "we shall not encounter many such during the approaching struggle, for, since we have been driven into this war, it will be a satisfaction to find ourselves opposed to an enemy rather more chivalrous than this specimen seems to promise."
"Nay, nay, De Courcy," remarked Captain Granville, "you must not judge of the American officers of the line by that standard; as, for example, Major Montgomerie and the person just alluded to. Last winter," he continued, "there was a continued interchange of hospitalities between the two posts, and, had you been here to participate in them, you would have admitted that among the officers of Detroit, there were many very superior men indeed."
"Pleasant ball, that last they gave," said Lieutenant Villiers, with a malicious laugh, and fixing his eyes on the Captain of Grenadiers.
"The devil take the ball," impatiently retorted Cranstoun, who did not seem to relish the allusion; "don't talk about it now, man."
"What was it, Villiers? do pray tell us. Something good, I am sure from Cranstoun's manner," eagerly asked the aid-de-camp, his curiosity excited by the general titter that followed the remark.
"Shall I tell him, Cranstoun?" asked Villiers, in the same bantering tone.
"Don't bother me," petulantly returned the other, as, thrusting his long legs under the table and turning his back upon the questioner, he joined, or affected to join, in a conversation that was passing, in a low tone, at his end of the room.
"I must premise," began Villiers, addressing himself to the attentively listening De Courcy, "that such is the mania for dancing in this country scarcely any obstacle is sufficient to deter a Canadian lady, particularly aFrench Canadian, from indulging in her favorite amusement. It is, therefore, by no means unusual to see women drawn in sleighs over drifting masses of ice, with chasms occasionally occurring of from fifteen to twenty feet—and that at a moment when, driven by wind and current, the huge fragments are impelled over each other with a roar that can only be likened to continuous thunder, forming, in various directions, hillocks from which the sun's rays are reflected in a thousand fantastic shades and shapes. On these occasions the sleighs, or carioles, are drawn, not as otherwise customary, by the fast-trotting little horses of the country, but by expert natives whose mode of transportation is as follows: A strong rope is fastened to the extremity of the shafts, and into this the French Canadian, buried to the chin in his blanket coat, and provided with a long pole terminating in an iron hook, harnesses himself, by first drawing the loop of the cord over the back of his neck, and then passing it under his arms. In this manner does he traverse the floating ice, stepping from mass to mass with a rapidity that affords no time for the detached fragment to sink under the weight with which it is temporarily laden. As the iron-shod runners obey the slightest impulsion, the draught is light; and the only fatigue encountered is in the act of bringing the detached bodies together. Wherever an opening intervenes, the Canadian throws forward his pole, and, securing the pointed hook in some projection of the floating ice, drags it towards that on the extreme verge of which he stands. In like manner he passes on to the next, when the same operation remains to be performed, until the passage is fully effected. Sometimes it happens that a chasm of more than ordinary extent occurs, in which case the pole is unavailable, and then his only alternative is to wait patiently until some distant mass, moving in a direction to fill up the interstice, arrives within his reach. In the meanwhile the ice on which he stands sinks slowly and gradually, until sometimes it quite disappears beneath the surface of the water."
"And the women, all this time?" demanded De Courcy, with something of the nervousness which might be attributed to such a situation.
"Sit as quietly and as unconcernedly, wrapped in their furs, as if they were merely taking their customary drive on terra firma," continued Villiers; "nay, I am persuaded that if they ever entertain an anxiety on those occasions, it is either lest the absence of one of these formidable masses should compel them to abandon an enterprise, the bare idea of entering upon which would give an European woman an attack of nerves, or that the delayed aid should be a means of depriving them of one half minute of their anticipated pleasure."
"Why," interrupted Middlemore, despite of a dozen ohs and ahs—"why, I say, is Villiers like a man of domestic habits? Do you give it up? Because he is fond of dwelling on his own premises."
"Middlemore, when will you renounce that vile habit of punning?" said De Courcy, with an earnestness of adjuration that excited a general laugh at his end of the table. "Come, Villiers, never mind his nonsense, for your premises, although a little long, are not without deep interest—but what has all this to do with our good friend above?"
"You shall hear. After a succession of balls last winter, to which the ladies of either shore were invariably invited, the concluding one was given by the officers in garrison at Detroit. This was at the very close of theseason, and it chanced that, on the preceding night, the river had broken up, so that the roar and fracas of crashing ice might have been likened, during forty-eight hours afterwards, to some terrible disorganization of nature. Nothing daunted, however, by the circumstance, many of the Canadian ladies made the usual preparations, and among others the Miss D'Egvilles."
Here Villiers paused a moment, and with a significant "hem," sought to arouse the attention of the grenadier; but Cranstoun, insensible to the appeal, and perhaps unwilling to listen to a story that occasioned so much mirth whenever it was repeated, continued with his back immovably turned towards the speaker.
"All very well," pursued Villiers; "but we know the adage—'none so deaf as those who will not hear.' I have said," again turning to De Courcy, while those who were near listened not without interest to the story, familiar even as it was to them all, "that the Miss D'Egvilles were of the party. At that time our friend was doing the amiable to the lively Julia, although we never could persuade him to confess his penchant; and, on this occasion, he had attached himself to their immediate sleigh. Provided, like the Canadians, with poles terminated by an iron hook at one end and a spike at the other, we made our way after their fashion, but in quicker time than they possibly could, harnessed as they were in the sledges. With the aid of these poles, we cleared, with facility, chasms of from ten to twelve feet, and alighting on our moccasined feet, seldom incurred much risk of losing our hold. Our ball dresses were taken in charge by the ladies, so that our chief care was the safe passage of our own persons. We all arrived without accident, and passed a delightful evening, the American officers exerting themselves to give thecoup d'éclatto the last ball of the season."
"Yes," interrupted the incorrigible Middlemore, as he cracked a peccan nut, "and the balls reserved for us this season will also carry with them thecoup de grass."
"The night," pursued Villiers, no one noticing the interruption save by an impatient 'pish,' "gave every indication of a speedy break up. The ice yet floated along in disjoined masses, but with even greater rapidity than on the preceding day. Two alternatives remained—either to attempt the crossing before further obstacle should be interposed, or to remain in Detroit until the river had been so far cleared of the ice as to admit of a passage in canoes. With our leaping poles, we were not so much at a loss, but the fear entertained was principally for the safety of the sleighs. Nothing dismayed, however, by the dangerous appearance of the river, the ladies, after due deliberation, courageously resolved on returning without delay, and we accordingly set out on our somewhat hazardous expedition.
"Notwithstanding it was, as I have already remarked, the close of winter, the cold was intense, and we were warmly clad. I do not know if you have ever seen Cranstoun's huge bear skin coat, (an affirmative nod was given by De Courcy), well: in this formidable covering had he encased himself, so that when he quitted the town, surmounted as his head was moreover with a fur cap, he presented more of the appearance of a dancing bear than of a human creature. In this guise he attached himself to the sleigh of the D'Egvilles, which, in crossing, happened to be the furthest down the river, of the group."
"What a damn'd long time you are telling that stupid story, Villiers," atlength noticed Cranstoun, wheeling round and regarding the narrator with a look of ill assumed indifference, "I could have told it myself in half the time."
"I am afraid you would not tell it so faithfully," replied Lieutenant Villiers, amid the loud laugh which was now raised at Cranstoun's expense. "You see it is so good a thing, I like to make the most of it."
Here Cranstoun again turned his back upon the party, and Villiers pursued.
"The main body of the expedition had got nearly half way across the river, when suddenly our ears were assailed by moanings, resembling those of some wild beast, mingled with incessant and ungovernable laughter. Checking our course, and turning to behold the cause, we observed, about a hundred yards below us, the sledge of the D'Egvilles, from which the almost convulsive laughter proceeded, and at a considerable distance beyond this again, an object the true character of which we were some time in discovering.
"It appeared, on subsequent explanation, that Cranstoun, who had been whispering soft nothings in the ear of Julia D'Egville, (here the captain was observed to prick his ear without materially altering his position) hem! Cranstoun, I say, it appeared had also taken it into his head to give her a specimen of his agility, by an attempt to clear a space between two masses of ice of somewhat too great a breadth for a heavy grenadier, buttoned up to the chin in a ponderous bear skin coat. He succeeded in gaining the opposite piece of ice, but had no sooner reached it, than he fell, entangled in such a manner in his covering that he found it impossible to extricate himself. To add to his disaster, the force of his fall broke off, from the main body, the section of ice on which he rested. Borne down by the current, in spite of his vain struggles to free himself, he was unable even to call for aid, his fingers moreover being so benumbed with cold that he found it impossible to unbutton the straps which confined his mouth. In this emergency he could only utter the strange and unintelligible moan which had reached our ears, and which, mingled with the bursts of laughter from Julia D'Egville, formed a most incongruous melange.
"The best of the adventure remains, however, to be told. Numbers of the peasantry from either shore, provided with poles, guns, and ropes, were now to be seen rushing towards the half congealed Cranstoun, fully imagining—nay exclaiming—that it was a wild bear, which, in an attempt to cross the river, had had its retreat cut off, and was now, from insensibility, rendered harmless. Disputes even arose in the distance as to whom the prize should belong, each pursuer claiming to have seen it first. Nay, more than one gun had been levelled with a view of terminating all doubt by lodging a bullet in the carcase, when, fortunately, for the subject in dispute, this proposal was overruled by the majority, who were more anxious to capture than to slay the supposed bear. Meanwhile the Canadian, harnessed to the sleigh of the D'Egvilles, roared out with all his lungs for the two parties to hasten to the assistance of the drowning British officer. In the confusion produced by their own voices, however, they did not appear to hear or understand him; yet all pursued the aim they had in view. Cranstoun's body was so doubled up that it was impossible for any one, who had not witnessed the accident, to imagine it anything in nature but a bear; and this impression, the strange moaning he continued to make, tended to confirm.
"The party of Canadians, favored by the nature of their floating ice-bridges, were the first to come up to him. A desperate effort of his cramped muscles had enabled Cranstoun to extend one of his legs, at the moment when they were about to throw a noose round his neck, and this was the first intimation the astonished peasantry had of their supposed prize being a human being, instead of the fat bear they had expected. Poor Cranstoun was of course liberated from his 'durance vile,' but so chilled from long immersion, that he could not stand without assistance, and it was not until one of their companions had approached with a sleigh that he could be removed. He kept his bed three days, as much I believe from vexation as illness, and has never worn his unlucky bear skin since; neither has he forgiven Julia D'Egville the laugh she enjoyed at his expense. Cranstoun," he concluded, "you may turn now, the story is told."
But Cranstoun, apparently heedless of the laugh that followed this—as indeed it did every—narration of the anecdote, was not to be shaken from his equanimity. He continued silent and unmoved, as if he had not heard a word of the conclusion.
"Poor Cranstoun," exclaimed the joyous De Courcy, in a strain of provoking banter, "what an unfortunate leap that was of yours; and how delighted you must have felt when you again stepped on terra firma."
"I don't wonder at his leap being unfortunate," observed Middlemore, all eyes fixed upon him in expectation of what was to follow, "for Julia D'Egville can affirm that, while paying his court to her, he had not chosen aleap year."
While all were as usual abusing the far strained pun, a note was brought in by the head waiter and handed to the punster. The officer read it attentively, and then, with an air of seriousness which in him was remarkable, tossed it across the table to Captain Molineux, who, since the departure of Henry Grantham, had been sitting with his arms folded, apparently buried in profound thought, and taking no part either in the conversation or the laughter which accompanied it. A faint smile passed over his features, as, after having read, he returned it, with an assentient nod to Middlemore. Shortly afterwards, availing himself of the opportunity afforded by the introduction of some fresh topic of conversation, he quitted his seat, and whispering something in the ear of Villiers, left the mess room. Soon after, the latter officer disappeared from the table, and in a few moments his example was followed by Middlemore.
The dinner party at Colonel D'Egville's was composed in a manner to inspire an exclusive with irrepressible horror. At the suggestion of General Brock, Tecumseh had been invited, and, with him, three other celebrated Indian chiefs, whom we beg to introduce to our readers under their familiar names—Split-log—Round-head—and Walk-in-the-water—all of the formidable nation of the Hurons. In his capacity of superintendent of Indian affairs, Colonel D'Egville had been much in the habit of entertaining the superiorchiefs, who, with a tact peculiar to men of their sedate and serious character, if they displayed few of the graces of European polish, at least gave no manifestation of an innate vulgarity. As it may not be uninteresting to the reader to have a slight sketch of the warriors, we will attempt the portraiture.
The chief Split-log, who indeed should rather have been named Split-ear, as we shall presently show, was afflicted with an aldermanic rotundity of person, by no means common among his race, and was one, who from his love of ease and naturally indolent disposition, seemed more fitted to take his seat in the council than to lead his warriors to battle. Yet was he not, in reality, the inactive character he appeared, and more than once subsequently he was engaged in expeditions of a predatory nature, carrying off the customary spoils. We cannot impart a better idea of the head of the warrior than by stating, that we never recall that of the gigantic Memnon, in the British Museum, without being forcibly reminded of Split-log's. The Indian, however, was notorious for a peculiarity which the Egyptian had not. So enormous a head, seeming to require a corresponding portion of the several organs, nature had, in her great bounty, provided him with a nose, which, if it equalled not that of Smellfungus in length, might, in height and breadth, have laughed it utterly to scorn. Neither was it a single, but a double nose—two excrescences, equalling in bulk a moderate sized lemon, and of the spongy nature of a mushroom, bulging out, and lending an expression of owlish wisdom to his otherwise heavy features. As on that of the Memnon, not a vestige of a hair was to be seen on the head of Split-log. His lips were, moreover, of the same unsightly thickness, while the elephantine ear had been slit in such a manner, that the pliant cartilage, yielding to the weight of several ounces of lead which had for years adorned it, now lay stretched, and coquetting with the brawny shoulder on which it reposed. Such was the Huron, or Wyandot Chief, whose cognomen of Split-log had, in all probability, been derived from his facility in "suiting the action to the word;" for, in addition to his gigantic nose, he possessed a fist, which in size and strength might have disputed the palm with Maximilian himself; although his practice had chiefly been confined to knocking down his drunken wives, instead of oxen.
The second Chief, Round-head, who, by the way, was the principal in reputation after Tecumseh, we find the more difficulty in describing from the fact of his having had few or none of those peculiarities which we have, happily for our powers of description, been enabled to seize hold of in Split-log. His name we believe to have been derived from that indispensable portion of his frame. His eye was quick, even penetrating, and his stern brow denoted intelligence and decision of character. His straight, coal-black hair, cut square over the forehead, fell long and thickly over his face and shoulders. This, surmounted by a round slouched hat, ornamented with an eagle's feather, which he ordinarily wore and had not even now dispensed with, added to a blue capote or hunting frock, produced atout ensemble, which cannot be more happily rendered than by a comparison with one of his puritanical sly-eyed namesakes of the English Revolution.
Whether our third hero, Walk-in-the-water, derived his name from any aquatic achievement which could possibly give a claim for its adoption, we have no means of ascertaining; but certain it is, that in his features he bore astriking resemblance to the portraits of Oliver Cromwell. The same small, keen, searching eye, the same iron inflexibility of feature, together with the long black hair escaping from beneath the slouched hat, (for Walk-in-the-water, as well as Round-head, was characterised by an unconscious imitation of the Rounheads of the Revolution)—all contributed to render the resemblance as perfect as perfection of resemblance can be obtained, where the physical, and not the moral, man, forms the ground of contrast.
Far above these in nobleness of person, as well as in brilliancy of intellect, was the graceful Tecumseh. Unlike his companions, whose dress was exceedingly plain, he wore his jerkin or hunting coat of the most beautifully soft and pliant deer-skin, on which were visible a variety of tasteful devices, exquisitely embroidered with the stained quills of the porcupine. A shirt of dazzling whiteness was carefully drawn over his expansive chest, and in his equally white shawl-turban was placed an ostrich feather, the prized gift of the lady of the mansion. On all occasions of festivity, and latterly in the field, he was wont thus to decorate himself; and never did the noble warrior appear to greater advantage than when habited in this costume. The contrast it offered to his swarthy cheek and mobile features, animated as they were by the frequent flashing of his eagle eye, seldom failed to excite admiration in the bosoms of all who saw him.
The half hour that elapsed between the arrival of the several guests and the announcement of dinner, was passed under the influence of feelings almost as various in kind as the party itself. Messieurs Split-rock, Round-head, and Walk-in-the-water, fascinated by the eagles on the buttons of Major Montgomerie's uniform, appeared to regard that officer as if they saw no just cause or impediment why certain weapons dangling at their sides should not be made to perform, and that without delay, an incision into the cranium of their proprietor. True, there was a difficulty. The veteran major was partially bald, and wanted the top knot or scalping tuft, which to a true warrior was indispensable; not that we mean to insinuate, that either of these chiefs would so far have forgotten the position in which that gentleman stood, as to have been tempted into any practical demonstration of hostility: but there was a restlessness about the eye of each, that—much like the instinct of the cat, which regards with natural avidity the bird that is suffered to go at large within his reach, without daring openly to attack it—betrayed the internal effort it cost them to lose sight of the enemy in the prisoner and friend of the superintendent. The major, on the other hand, although satisfied he was under the roof of hospitality, did not at first appear altogether at his ease, but, while he conversed with the English officers, turned ever and anon an eye of distrust on the movements of his swarthy fellow guests. On the arrival of Tecumseh, who, detained until a late hour by the arrangements he had been making for the encampment and supplies of his new force, was the last to make his appearance, the major's doubts passed entirely away. It was impossible to be in the presence of this chieftain, and fail, even without any other index to his soul than what the candor of his expression afforded, to entertain all the security that man may repose on man. He had in him, it is true, too much of the sincerity of nature, to make anything like a friendly advance to one of a people on whom he charged all the misfortunes of his race, and for whom he had avowed an inextinguishable hostility of heart and purpose; but, unless when this might with strict propriety be exercised, the spirit ofhis vengeance extended not; and not only would he have scorned to harm a fallen foe, but his arm would have been the first uplifted in his defence.
Notwithstanding the glance of intelligence which Captain Granville had remarked, and which we have previously stated to have been directed by Miss Montgomerie to her captor a few hours before, there was nothing in her manner during dinner to convey the semblance of a prepossession. True, that in the tumultuous glow of gratified vanity and dawning love, Gerald Grantham had executed a toilet, into which, with a view to the improvement of the advantage he imagined himself to have gained, all the justifiable coquetry of personal embellishment had been thrown; but neither the handsome blue uniform with its glittering epaulette, nor the beautiful hair on which more than usual pains had been bestowed, nor the sparkling of his dark eye, nor the expression of a cheek, rendered doubly animated by excitement, nor the interestingly displayed armen écharpe—none of these attractions, we repeat, seemed to claim even a partial notice from her they were intended to captivate. Cold, colorless, passionless, Miss Montgomerie met him with the calmness of an absolute stranger; and when, with the recollection of the indescribable look she had bestowed upon him glowing at his heart, Gerald again sought in her eyes some trace of the expression that had stirred every vein into transport, he found there indifference the most complete. How great his mortification was, we will not venture to describe, but the arch and occasional raillery of his lively cousin, Julia D'Egville, seemed to denote most plainly that the conqueror and the conquered had exchanged positions.
Nor was this surprising; Miss Montgomerie's travelling habit had been discarded for the more decorative ornaments of a dinner toilet, in which, however, the most marked simplicity was observed. A plain white muslin dress gave full development to a person which was of a perfection that no dress could have disguised. It was the bust of a Venus, united to a form, to create which would have taxed the imaginative powers of a Praxiteles—a form so faultlessly moulded, that every movement presented some new and unpremeditated grace. What added to the surpassing richness of her beauty was her hair, which, black, glossy, and of eastern luxuriance, and seemingly disdaining the girlishness of curls, reposed in broad Grecian bands across a brow, the intellectual expression of which they contributed to form. Yet never did woman exhibit in her person and face more opposite extremes of beauty. If the one was strikingly characteristic of warmth, the other was no less indicative of coldness. Fair, even to paleness, were her cheek and forehead, which wore an appearance of almost marble immobility, save when, in moments of oft recurring abstraction, a slight but marked contraction of the brow betrayed the existence of a feeling, indefinable indeed to the observer, but certainly unallied to softness. Still she was beautiful—coldly, classically, beautiful—eminently calculated to inspire passion, but seemingly incapable of feeling it.
The coldness of Miss Montgomerie's manner was no less remarkable. Her whole demeanor was one of abstraction. It seemed as if heedless, not only of ceremony, but of courtesy, her thoughts and feelings were far from the board of whose hospitality she was partaking. Indeed, the very few remarks she made during dinner referred to the period of departure of the boat, in which she was to be conveyed to Detroit, and on this subject she displayed an earnestness, which, even Grantham thought, might have been suppressed in the presence of his uncle's family. Perhaps he felt piqued at her readiness to leave him.
Under these circumstances, the dinner was not, as might be expected, particularly gay. There was an embarrassment among all, which even the circulating wine did not wholly remove. Major Montgomerie was nearly as silent as his niece. Mrs. D'Egville, although evincing all the kindness of her really benevolent nature—a task in which she was assisted by her amiable daughters—still felt that the reserve of her guest insensibly produced a corresponding effect upon herself; while Colonel D'Egville, gay, polished, and attentive, as he usually was, could not wholly overcome an apprehension that the introduction of the Indian chiefs had given offence to both uncle and niece. Still, it was impossible to have acted otherwise. Independently of his strong personal attachment to Tecumseh, considerations involving the safety of the province, threatened as it was, strongly demanded that the leading chiefs should be treated with the respect due to their station; and moreover, while General Brock and Commodore Barclay were present, there could be no ground for an impression that slight was intended. Both these officers saw the difficulty under which their host labored, and sought by every gentlemanly attention, to remove whatever unpleasantness might lurk in the feelings of his American guests.
The dessert brought with it but little addition to the animation of the party, and it was a relief to all, when, after a toast proposed by the general to the "Ladies of America," Mrs. D'Egville made the usual signal for withdrawing.
As soon as they had departed, followed a moment or two afterwards by Tecumseh and Gerald Grantham, Messieurs Split-log, Round-head, and Walk-in-the-water, deliberately taking their pipe-bowl tomahawks from their belts, proceeded to fill them with kinni-kinnick, a mixture of Virginia tobacco and odoriferous herbs, than which no perfume can be more fragrant. Amid the clouds of smoke puffed from these at the lower end of the table, where had been placed a supply of whiskey, their favorite liquor—did Colonel D'Egville and his more civilized guests quaff their claret; more gratified than annoyed by the savoury atmosphere wreathing around them, while, taking advantage of the early departure of the abstemious Tecumseh, they discussed the merits of that chief, and the policy of employing the Indians as allies, as will be seen in the following chapter.
"What a truly noble looking being!" observed Major Montgomerie, as he followed with his eye the receding form of the athletic but graceful Tecumseh. "Do you know, Colonel D'Egville, I could almost forgive your nephew his success of this morning, in consideration of the pleasure he has procured me in this meeting."
Colonel D'Egville looked the gratification he felt at the avowal. "I am delighted, Major Montgomerie, to hear you say so. My only fear was that, in making those chieftains my guests at the same moment with yourself and niece, I might have unconsciously appeared to slight, where slight was certainly not intended. You must be aware, however, of the rank held by them among their respective nations, and of their consequent claim upon the attention of one to whom the Indian interests have been delegated."
"My dear sir," interrupted the Major, eager to disclaim, "I trust you have not mistaken me so far, as to have imputed a reserve of speech and manner during dinner, to which I cannot but plead guilty, to a fastidiousness which, situated as I am, (and he bowed to the general and commodore,) would have been wholly misplaced. My distraction, pardonable perhaps under all the circumstances, was produced entirely by a recurrence to certain inconveniences which I felt might arise to me from my imprisonment. The captive bird," he pursued, while a smile for the first time animated his very fine countenance, "will pine within its cage, however gilded the wires which compose it. In every sense, my experience of to-day only leads me to the expression of a hope, that all whom the chances of war may throw into a similar position, may meet with a similar reception."
"Since," observed the General, "your private affairs are of the importance you express, Major Montgomerie, you shall depart with your niece. Perhaps I am rather exceeding my powers in this respect, but, however this may be, I shall take the responsibility on myself. You will hold yourself pledged, of course, to take no part against us in the forthcoming struggle, until you have been regularly exchanged for whatever officer of your own rank, may happen to fall into the hands of your countrymen. I shall dispatch an express to the Commander in-Chief, to intimate this fact, requesting at the same time, that your name may be put down in the first list for exchange."
Major Montgomerie warmly thanked the General for his kind offer, of which he said he should be glad to avail himself, as he did not like the idea of his niece proceeding without him to Detroit, where she was an entire stranger. This, he admitted, determined as she had appeared to be, was one of the unpleasant subjects of his reflection during dinner.
With a view of turning the conversation, and anxious moreover, to obtain every information on the subject, the general now inquired in what estimation Tecumseh was generally held in the United States.
"Among the more intelligent classes of our citizens, in the highest possible," was the reply; "but by those who are not so capable of judging, and who only see, in the indomitable courage and elevated talents of the patriot hero, the stubborn inflexibility of the mere savage, he is looked upon far less flatteringly. By all, however, is he admitted to be formidable without parallel, in the history of Indian warfare. His deeds are familiar to all, and his name is much such a bugbear to American childhood, as Marlborough's was in France, and Napoleon's is in England. It is a source of much regret to our Government never to have been enabled to conciliate this extraordinary man."
"What more feasible," remarked the General, but with a tone and manner that could not possibly give offence; "had not the difficulty been of its own creation? Treaty after treaty, you must admit, major, had been made and violated under various pretexts, while the real motive—the aggrandizement of territories already embracing a vast portion of their early possessions—was carefully sought to be concealed from these unfortunate people. How was it to be expected then that a man, whom the necessities of his country had raised up to itself in the twofold character of statesman and warrior—one gifted with a power of analyzing motives which has never been surpassed in savage life—how, I ask, was it to be expected that he, with all these injuriesof aggression staring him in the face, should have been won over by a show of conciliation, which long experience, independently of his matured judgment, must have assured him was only held forth to hoodwink, until fitting opportunity should be found for again throwing off the mask."
"To the charge of violating treaties," returned Major Montgomerie, who took the opposite argument in perfectly good part, "I fear, general, our Government must to a certain extent plead guilty—much, however, remains to be said in excuse. In the first place, it must be borne in mind that the territory of the United States, unlike the kingdom of Europe, has no fixed or settled boundary whereby to determine its own relative bearing. True it is, that we have the Canadas on one portion of our frontier, but this being a fixed line of demarcation, there can exist no question as to a mutual knowledge of the territorial claims of both countries. Unlike that of the old world, however our population is rapidly progressing, and where are we to find an outlet for the surplus of that population unless, unwilling as we are to come into collision with our more civilized neighbors, we can push them forward into the interior. In almost all the contracts entered into by our Government with the Indians, large sums have been given for the lands ceded by the latter. This was at once, of course, a tacit and mutual revocation of any antecedent arrangements, and if instances have occurred wherein the sacredness of treaty has been violated, it has only been where the Indians have refused to part with their lands for the proffered consideration, and when those lands have been absolutely indispensable to our agricultural purposes. Then indeed has it been found necessary to resort to force. That this principle of "might being the right," may be condemnedin limineit is true, but how otherwise, with a superabundant population, can we possibly act?"
"A superabundance of territory, I grant you, but surely not of population," remarked the commodore; "were the citizens of the United States condensed into the space allotted to Europeans, you might safely dispense with half the Union at this moment."
"And what advantages should we then derive from the possession of nearly a whole continent to ourselves?"
"Every advantage that may be reaped consistently with common justice. What would be thought in Europe, if, for instance to illustrate a point, and assuming these two countries to be in a state of profound peace, Spain, on the principle of might, should push her surplus population into Portugal, compelling the latter kingdom to retire back on herself, and crowd her own subjects into the few provinces that might yet be left to them."
"I cannot admit the justice of your remark, commodore," returned Major Montgomerie, gradually warming into animation; "Both are civilized powers, holding the same rank and filling nearly the same scale among the nations of Europe. Moreover, there does not exist the same difference in the natural man. The uneducated negro is, from infancy and long custom, doomed to slavery, wherefore should the copper colored Indian be more free? But my argument points not at their subjection. I would merely show that, incapable of benefitting by the advantages of the soil they inherit, they should learn to yield it with a good grace to those who can. Their wants are few, and interminable woods yet remain to them, in which their hunting pursuits may be indulged without a fear of interruption."
"That it will be long," observed the General, "before, in so vast a continent, they will be without a final resting place, I readily admit; but the hardship consists in this—that they are driven from particular positions to which their early associations lend a preference. What was it that stirred into a flame, the fierce hostility of Tecumseh but the determination evinced by your Government to wrest, from the hands of his tribe, their last remaining favorite haunts on the Wabash?"
"This cannot be denied, but it was utterly impossible we could forego the possession of countries bordering so immediately on our settlements. Had we pushed our colonization further, leaving the tribes of the Wabash in intermediate occupation, we ran the risk of having our settlers cut off in detail, at the slightest assumed provocation. Nay, pretexts would have been sought for the purpose, and the result of this would have been the very war into which we were unavoidably led. The only difference was, that, instead of taking up arms to avenge our slaughtered kinsmen, we anticipated the period that must sooner or later have arrived, by ridding ourselves of the presence of those from whose hostility we had everything to apprehend."
"The expediency of these measures," said the General, "no one, Major, can of course doubt; the only question at issue is their justice, and in making this remark it must be obvious there is no particular allusion to the United States, further than that country serves to illustrate a general principle. I am merely arguing against the right of a strong power to wrest from a weaker what may be essential to its own interest, without reference to the comfort, or wishes, or convenience of the latter."
"In such light assuredly do I take it," observed Major Montgomerie, bowing his sense of the disclaimer. "But to prove to you, general, that we are only following in the course pursued by every other people of the world, let us, without going back to the days of barbarism, when the several kingdoms of Europe were overrun by the strongest, and when your own country in particular became in turn the prey of Saxons, Danes, Normans, &c., merely glance our eyes upon those provinces which have been subjugated by more civilized Europe. Look at South America, for instance, and then say what we have done that has not been far exceeded by the Spaniards, in that portion of the hemisphere—and yet, with this vast difference in the balance, that there the European drove before him and mercilessly destroyed an unoffending race, while we, on the contrary, have had fierce hostility and treachery everywhere opposed to our progress. The Spaniards, moreover, offered no equivalent for the country subdued; now we have ever done so, and only where that equivalent has been rejected, have we found ourselves compelled to resort to force. Look again at the islands of the West Indies, the chief of which are conquests by England. Where are the people to whom Providence had originally assigned those countries, until the European, in his thirst for aggrandizement, on that very principle of might which you condemn, tore them violently away. Gone, extirpated, until scarce a vestige of their existence remains, even as it must be, in the course of time, with the Indians of these wilds—perhaps not in this century or the next, but soon or late assuredly. These two people—the South Americans and Caribs—I particularly instance, for the very reason that they offer the most striking parallel with the immediate subject under discussion. But shall I go further than this, gentlemen, and maintain that we, the United States, are only following in the course originally pointed out to us by England."
"I should be glad to hear your argument," said the Commodore, drawing his chair closer to the table.
"And I," added the General, "consider the position too novel not to feel interested in the manner in which it will be maintained."
"I will not exactly say," observed Colonel D'Egville, smiling one of his blandest smiles, and few men understood the winning art better than himself, "that Major Montgomerie has the happy talent of making the worse appear the better cause; but certainly, I never remember to have heard that cause more ably advocated."
"More subtly perhaps you would say, Colonel; but seriously, I speak from conviction alone. It is true, as a citizen of the United States, and therefore one interested in the fair fame of its public acts, that conviction may partake in some degree of partial influences; still it is sincere. But to my argument. What I would maintain is, as I have before stated, that in all we have done we have only followed the example of England. For instance, when the colonisation of the Eastern and Southern states of the Union took place, that is to say, when our common ancestors first settled in this country, how was their object effected? Why, by driving from their possessions near the sea, in order to make room for themselves, those very nations whom we are accused of a desire to exterminate, as if out of a mere spirit of wantonness. Did either English or Dutch then hesitate as to what coursetheyshould pursue, or suffer any qualms of conscience to interfere with their colonial plans? No; as a measure of policy—as a means of security—they sought to conciliate the Indians, but not the less determined were they to attain their end. Who, then, among Englishmen, would have thought of blaming their fellow countrymen, when the object in view was the aggrandizement of the national power, and the furtherance of individual interests? While the colonists continued tributary to England they could do no wrong—they incurred no censure. Each succeeding year saw them, with a spirit that wasthendeemed worthy of commendation, pushing their advantages and extending their possessions, to the utter exclusion and at the expense of the original possessors of the soil. For this they incurred no blame. But mark the change: no sooner had the war of the revolution terminated in our emancipation from the leading strings of childhood—no sooner had we taken rank among the acknowledged nations of the world—no sooner had we, in a word, started into existence as an original people—than the course we had undeviatingly pursued in infancy, and from which we did not dream of swerving in manhood, became a subject for unqualified censure. What had been considered laudable enterprise in the English colonist, became unpardonable ambition in the American republican; and acts affecting the national prosperity, that carried with them the approbation of society and good government during our nonage, were stigmatized as odious and grasping the moment we had attained our majority."
"Most ably and eloquently argued, Major," interrupted the general, "and I fear with rather more truth than we Englishmen are quite willing to acknowledge: still it must be admitted, that what in the first instance was a necessity, partook no longer of that character at a later period. In order to colonize the country originally, it was necessary to select such portions as were, by their proximity to the sea, indispensable to the perfection of the plan. If the English colonists drove the Indians into the interior, it was only for a period. They had still vast tracts to traverse, which have since, figurativelyspeaking, been reduced to a mere span: and their very sense of the difference of the motive—that is to say, of the difference between him who merely seeks whereon to erect his dwelling, and him who is anxious to usurp to himself the possession of an almost illimitable territory—cannot be better expressed than by the different degrees of enmity manifested against the two several people. When did the fierceness of Indian hatred blaze forth against the English colonists, who were limited in their views, as it has since against the subjects of the United States, who, since the Revolution, have more than tripled their territorial acquisitions?"
"Nay, general," replied the American, his lip partially curling with a smile, indicating consciousness of triumphant argument; "I shall defeat you on your own ground, and that by going back to a period anterior to the revolution—to the very period you describe as being characterised by less intense hostility to your own government."
"What, for instance, have we seen in modern times, to equal the famous Indian league, which, under the direction of the celebrated Pontiac, a chieftain only surpassed by Tecumseh, consigned so many of the European posts to destruction, along this very line of district, about the middle of the last century. It has been held up as a reproach to us, that we have principally subjected ourselves to the rancorous enmity of the Indians, in consequence of having wrested from them their favorite and beautiful hunting grounds, (Kentucky in particular,) to which their early associations had linked them. But to this I answer, that in Pontiac's time this country was still their own, as well as Ohio, Louisiana, Indiana, &c., and yet the war of fierce extermination was not the less waged towards the English; not because these latter had appropriated their principal haunts, but because they had driven them from their original possessions near the sea. The hatred of the Indians has ever been the same towards those who first secured a footing on their continent, and, although we are a distinct people in the eyes of the civilized world, still we are the same in those of the natives, who see in us, not the emancipated American, but merely the descendant of the original colonist. That their hostility has progressed in proportion with our extension of territory, I cannot altogether admit, for although our infant settlements have in a great degree suffered from occasional irruptions of the savages, when men, women and children, have alike been devoted to the murderous tomahawk, in no way have our fortresses been systematically assailed, as during the time of Pontiac."
"For this," interrupted the general, "there are two obvious reasons. In the first instance, your fortresses are less isolated than ours were at that period, and secondly, no such intelligent being as the chieftain you have named, had started up among the Indian nations until now. What Tecumseh may not effect in course of time, should he not perish in the struggle for his country's liberty, ought to be a matter of serious consideration with your Government."
"Of his great talents and dauntless determination they are fully aware," replied the major; "but as I have already said, nothing short, not merely of giving up all claim to future advantages, but of restoring the country wrested from him on the Wabash, can ever win him from his hostility; and this is a sacrifice the Government will never consent to make."
At this point of the argument, Messieurs Split-log, Round-head, and Walk-in-the-water, having finished their kinni-kinnick, and imbibed a due quantumof whiskey; possibly, moreover, not much entertained by the conversation that was carried on in a language neither of them understood but imperfectly, rose to take their leave. They successively shook hands with the British leaders, then advancing towards Major Montgomerie, with a guttural "Ugh," so accentuated as to express good will and satisfaction, tendered their dark palms to that officer also, muttering as they did something about "good Chemocomon." They then with becoming dignity withdrew, followed by Colonel D'Egville, who had risen to conduct them to the door.
The conversation, thus temporarily interrupted, was resumed on that officer's return.
"Admitting the truth of your position, Major Montgomerie," remarked the Commodore, "that the Government of the United States is justified, both by expediency and example, in the course it has pursued, it will not at least be denied, that Tecumseh is, on the very same principle, borne out in the hatred and spirit of hostility evinced by him towards the oppressors of his country."
"Granted," returned the Major, "but this point has no reference to my argument, which tends to maintain, that in all we have done, we have been justified by necessity and example."
"The fact is, however, that this position of things is one unavoidably growing out of the clashing of adverse interests—the Indians being anxious to check, we to extend, our dominion and power as a people; and the causes existing now were in being nearly a century ago, and will, in all probability continue, until all vestige of Indian existence shall have passed utterly away. When the French were in the occupancy of the Canadas, having nothing to gain from them, they cultivated the alliance and friendship of the several nations, and by fostering their fierce hostility against the English colonists, rendered them subservient to their views. To-day the English stand precisely where the French did. Having little to expect from the Indians but assistance in a case of need, they behold, and have for years beheld, with anything but indifference, the struggle continued by the United States which was commenced by themselves. I hope I shall not be understood as expressing my own opinion, when I add, that in the United States, the same covert influence is attributed to the commanders of the British fortresses that was imputed to the French. Indeed it is a general belief, among the lower classes particularly, that, in all the wars undertaken against the American out-posts and settlements, the Indians have been instigated to the outrage by liberal distributions of money and presents from the British Government."
"It will hardly be necessary to deny the justice of such an imputation to Major Montgomerie," remarked the General, with a smile, "especially after having disavowed the opinion as his own. The charge is too absurd for serious contradiction—yet we are not altogether ignorant that such an impression has gone abroad."
"Few of the more enlightened of our citizens give into the belief," said the Major; "still it will give me especial pleasure to have it in my power to contradict the assertion from the lips of General Brock himself."
"That we have entered into a treaty of alliance with the Indians," observed Colonel D'Egville, "is most certainly true; but it is an alliance wholly defensive. I must further observe, that in whatever light the policy of the Government of the United States in its relations with the Indians, may beprivately viewed, we are, under all circumstances, the last people in the world who should condemn it as injurious to our public interests, since it has been productive of results affecting the very existence of these provinces. Had the American Government studied conciliation rather than extension of territory, it is difficult to say to what side the great body of the Indians would, in the impending struggle, have leaned. The possibility of some such event as the present had not only been foreseen, but anticipated. It has long been obvious to us that the spirit of acquisition manifested by the United States, would not confine itself to its customary channels; but on the contrary, that, not contented with the appropriation of the hunting grounds of the Indians, it would finally extend its views to Canada. Such a crisis has long been provided against. Presents, to a large amount, have certainly been distributed among the Indians, and not only this, but every courtesy, consistent at once with our dignity and our interest, has been shown to them. You have seen, for instance," continued he with a smile, "my three friends who have just left the room; they are not exactly the happiest specimens of Indian grace, but they have great weight in the council, and are the leading men in the alliance to which you alluded, although not wholly for the same purpose. In the wars of Pontiac—and these are still fresh in the recollection of certain members of my own family—the English commanders, with one or two exceptions, brought those disasters upon themselves. Forgetting that the Indians were a proud people, whom to neglect was to stir into hatred, they treated them with indifference, if not with contempt; and dearly did they pay the penalty of their fault. As we all know, they, with only one exception, were destroyed. In their fall expired the hostility they themselves had provoked, and time had wholly obliterated the sense of injustice from the minds of the several nations. Were we then, with these fearful examples yet fresh in our recollection, to fall into a similar error? No: a course of conciliation was adopted, and has been pursued for years; and now do we reap the fruit of what, after all, is but an act of justifiable policy. In my capacity of Superintendent of Indian affairs, Major Montgomerie, even more than as a Canadian brought up among them, I have had opportunities of studying the characters of the heads of the several nations. The most bitter enmity animates the bosoms of all against the Government and people of the United States, from whom, according to their own showing, they have to record injury upon injury; whereas from us they have received but benefits. I repeat, this is at once politic and just. What could Canada have hoped to accomplish in the approaching struggle, had the conduct of the American Government been such as to have neutralized the interest we had excited in and for ourselves? She must have succumbed; and my firm impression is, that at whatever epoch of her existence, the United States may extend the hand of conquest over these colonies, with the Indian tribes that are now leagued with us crowding to her own standard, not all the armies that England may choose to send to their defence will be able to prevent it."
"Filling the situation you now occupy, Colonel, there can be no doubt you are in every way enabled to arrive at a full knowledge of Indian feelings and Indian interests; and we have but too much reason to fear, that the strong hatred to the United States you describe as existing on the part of their several leaders, has had a tendency to unite them more cordially to the British cause. But your course of observation suggests another question. Why isit that, with the knowledge possessed by the British Government of the cruel nature of Indian warfare, it can consent to enlist them as allies? To prevent their taking up arms against the Canadas may be well, but in my opinion, (and it is one generally entertained through the United States,) the influence of the British authorities should have been confined to neutralizing their services."
"Nay, Major Montgomerie," observed the General, "it would indeed be exacting too much to require that we should offer ourselves unresisting victims to your Government; and what but self-immolation would it be to abstain from the only means by which we can hope to save these threatened Provinces? Colonel D'Egville has just said that, with the Indians opposed to us, Canada would fall. I go farther, and aver that, without the aid of the Indians, circumstanced as England now is, Canada must be lost to us. It is a painful alternative, I admit, for that a war, which is not carried on with the conventional courtesies of civilized belligerent nations, is little suited to our taste, you will do us the justice to believe; but by whom have we been forced into the dilemma? Had we been guilty of rousing the Indian spirit against you, with a view to selfish advantage; or had we in any way connived at the destruction of your settlements, from either dread or jealousy of your too close proximity, then should we have deserved all the odium of such conduct. But this we unequivocally deny.
"I would ask you, on the other hand, if you are aware of the great exertions made by your Government, to induce them to take an active part in this very war. If not, I can acquaint you that several of the chiefs, now here, have been strongly urged to declare against us; and, not very long since, an important council was held among the several tribes, wherein some few, who had been won over by large bribes, discussed the propriety of deserting the British cause, in consideration of advantages which were promised them by the United States. These of course were overruled by the majority, who expressed the utmost indignation at the proposal; but the attempt to secure their active services was not the less made. We certainly have every reason to congratulate ourselves on its failure."
"This certainly partakes of theargumentum ad hominem," said the Major, good humoredly; "I do confess, I am aware that, since the idea of war against England was first entertained, great efforts have been made to attach the Indians to our interests; and in all probability, had any other man than Tecumseh presided over their destinies, our Government would have been successful. I however, for one, am no advocate for their employment on either side; for it must be admitted they are a terrible and a cruel enemy, sparing neither age nor sex."
"Again, Major," returned the General, "do we shield ourselves under our former plea—that, as an assailed party, we have a right to avail ourselves of whatever means of defence are within our reach. One of two things—either we must retain the Indians, who are bound to us in one common interest, or we must, by discarding them, quietly surrender the Canadas to your armies. Few will be Quixotic enough to hesitate as to which of the alternatives we should adopt."
"And if we should be accused of neglecting the means of preventing unnecessary cruelty," observed Colonel D'Egville, "the people of the United States will do us infinite wrong. This very circumstance has been foreseenand provided against. Without the power to prevent the Indians from entering upon these expeditions, we have at least done all that experience and a thorough knowledge of their character admits, to restrain their vengeance, by the promise of head money. It has been made generally known to them that every prisoner that is brought in and delivered up shall entitle the captor to a certain sum. This promise, I have no doubt, will have the effect, not only of saving the lives of those who are attacked in their settlements, but also of checking any disposition to unnecessary outrage in the hour of conflict."
"The idea is one certainly reflecting credit on the humanity of the British authorities," returned Major Montgomerie; "but I confess I doubt its efficacy. We all know the nature of an Indian too well to hope that in the career of his vengeance, or the full flush of victory, he will waive his war trophy in consideration of a few dollars. The scalp he may bring, but seldom a living head with it."
"It is, I fear, the horrid estimation in which the scalp is held, that too frequently whets the blades of these people," observed the Commodore. "Were it not considered a trophy, more lives would be spared; but an Indian, from all I can understand, takes greater pride in exhibiting the scalp of a slain enemy, than a knight of ancient times did in displaying in his helmet the glove that had been bestowed on him as a mark of favor by his lady-love."
"After all," said the General, "necessary as it is to discourage it by every possible mark of disapprobation, I do not see, in the mere act of scalping, half the horrors usually attached to the practice. The motive must be considered. It is not the mere desire to inflict wanton torture that influences the warrior but an anxiety to possess himself of that which gives undisputed evidence of his courage and success in war. The prejudice of Europeans is strong against the custom, however, and we look upon it in a light very different, I am sure from that in which it is viewed by the Indians themselves. The burnings of prisoners, which were practised many years ago, no longer continue; and the infliction of the torture has passed away, so that, after all, Indian cruelty does not exceed that which is practised even at this day in Europe, and by a nation bearing high rank among the Catholic powers of Europe. I have numerous letters, recently received from officers of my acquaintance now serving in Spain, all of which agree in stating that the mutilations perpetrated by the Guerilla bands, on the bodies of such of the unfortunate French detachments as they succeeded in overpowering, far exceeded anything imputed to the Indians of America; and, as several of these letters are from individuals who joined the Peninsular Army from this country, in which they had passed many years, the statement may be relied on as coming from men who have had more than hearsay knowledge of both parties."