The course of true love never did run smooth.--_Shakspeare_.
The incidents which I am about to relate, suggest some very natural
reflections. He who now migrates to the mighty west, in pursuit of
wealth or fame, encounters none of those innumerable hidden and open
dangers which thronged the way of those who turned their faces
thitherward half a century ago; he feels not, nor need he possess, the
adventurous spirit, the intrepidity, and the astonishing resoluteness
and daring of those brave and hardy pioneers. They ascended the lofty
Alleghany, and looked off upon the ancient and almost unbroken forest,
extending far beyond the Mississippi, and covering the vast valley
which lay between them and the Rocky Mountains; while only here and
there a small settlement, composed of a few families collected
together for mutual convenience, and defence against their common
enemy, disturbed its solitary reign. So soon as they entered upon it,
they met with a foe the most wary and subtle, the most sleepless and
untiring in his hostility, the most vigilant to seize every
opportunity to satiate his bloodthirsty disposition, inflicting the
most cruel and merciless tortures, and murdering indiscriminately
every age and sex; the bold and dauntless husband, who met him hand to
hand in murderous conflict, the helpless imploring wife, and the
innocent babe sleeping upon her bosom, ruthlessly torn from her dying
grasp, fell alike beneath the deadly blow of the savage, as he smiled
with a fiendish satisfaction over his bloody deed. And is there no
cause to mitigate our anger when contemplating such scenes? Is there
no excuse for the wild, uncivilized Indian, though pursuing with a
hatred the most vindictive his enemy, yet displaying towards his
_friend_ a noble and disinterested conduct which puts to blush the
enlightened white man? Yes! They had discovered the designs of the
whites; oppressed with a thousand wrongs, driven from their homes and
the tombs of their ancestors, to which they are more fondly attached
than any other people,--"hunted down like the partridge upon the
mountain," they had formed a deadly hostility, an undying revenge
against those, whom, when few and defenceless, they had received with
open arms, and by whom they were now, viper like, stung to the heart;
and they had stationed themselves upon the verge, and lurked
throughout what they believed to be their own possession, their own
inheritance,--determined to dispute every foot of it with those who
were encroaching upon them, and pursuing with a steady purpose their
extermination.
Slowly would the emigrant plod his weary and fearful way, for months,
before he could reach the place of his location, his thoughts
frequently recurring to the peaceful and quiet abode he had left, for
a home in the wilderness filled with multiplied hazards. Here a small
hut was erected to shelter his family, while he labored from morn till
night, with his rifle by his side to protect him from his insatiate
enemies, bent upon the destruction of all who invaded their territory.
Almost every day, reports of aggravated murders perpetrated by the
Indians reached his ears, filling his family with alarm and terror
lest they should become the next victims; and himself liable at every
moment to be hurried off from them upon an expedition to drive back
the enemy, and check for a while their invasion of the settlements. No
one ever felt secure; and never did they retire to rest without taking
all necessary precaution to repel an attack, and barring securely
every entrance into the house. And even in the more dense settlements,
should they collect together for the purpose of divine worship, it was
necessary that every one should meet well armed, lest even _there_
they might be attacked by their relentless and implacable enemy.
Now how changed the scene! What wonders have fifty years effected! The
mighty tide of emigration has rolled on rapidly, diffusing prosperity
and every convenience in its train. The vigorous and powerful arm of
the government, after all other proffered terms had been rejected, has
forced the savage hordes beyond the limits of the Union, or reduced
them to a tame submission, and subdued their natural warlike and
ferocious disposition by the introduction among them of the arts and
principles of civilization. The inhabitant upon the most extreme
western frontier, feels as secure in his log cabin as the wealthy
farmer upon the seaboard. Under the fostering protective wing of a
free constitution, the population has swelled to an astonishing
amount. _States_ have sprung up, exercising a large degree of weight
and influence in the government, where but yesterday the red man, now
constrained to retire, pursued through the tangled woods the wild
deer, secure and undisturbed in his enjoyment by the presence of one
single envious _pale face_. Where once the savage held his frantic
revels or pitched his wigwam, now stands the populous and flourishing
city, whose spires pierce the clouds, and where arts, science, and
literature, flourish in all the vigor of maturity. Cultivated farms
and splendid mansions, occurring at short intervals, beautify the
interior, where but lately the wild beasts roamed their native
forests. Upon the placid bosoms of the most noble and beautiful
streams, where once naught was seen or heard but the rough hewn canoe
of the Indian and the dip of his paddle, now may be constantly heard
"the puff of the engine and flutter of the wheel" of that most
beneficial production of Fulton's immortal genius, as it rides
majestically by, wafting to a profitable market the productions of a
fertile and alluvial soil. For the advantage of commerce and the
facility of communication, distant waters have been united and noble
thoroughfares constructed from one section of the country to the
other; mountains have been levelled and plains elevated. An energetic
government sends with unrivalled rapidity, and unerring certainty,
intelligence of every kind from one end of the Union to the other, so
that the most distant friends scarcely realize their separation. The
whole region now teems with industry and enterprise. Independence,
ease, contentment and hospitality characterize the inhabitants. The
emigrant from the eastern states now leaves his home and his friends
with a light heart, for a country where merit receives its reward,
where he will meet with success in every undertaking, and where wealth
or fame will crown his labors. And all this in fifty years! The valley
of the Mississippi, _then_ a wilderness, _now_ a populous and mighty
empire! What unbounded resources, what powerful energies do the people
of this country possess! What glorious and encouraging fruits are
these, of self government--of a republican constitution.
Among the emigrants to Ohio, just after the revolution, were a Mess.
Claiborne and Newton, who removed, with their families, from one of
the tide-water counties of Virginia, and settled upon the beautiful
banks of the Scioto, some distance above its mouth. Mr. Newton
selected as a site for his dwelling, a small hill upon the west side
of the river, gently descending to the water's edge, sparsely covered
with the tall majestic trees of the forest, and commanding a
delightful prospect of the river, as it lay like a polished mirror
reflecting the sunbeams from its smooth surface, or gently rippling as
the soft breezes of evening played upon its bosom; also, of the
extensive rich bottoms on either hand, and of the extensive woodland
in front. Behind, the country gracefully undulated, presenting the
pleasing variety of hill and dale, of wood and prairie. It was, in
fact, a charming situation. And long since that time, the enterprise
of another owner has made it the most handsome country seat in the
state. A noble mansion now crowns the hill with every ornamental
appurtenance, while the flats on each side, regularly divided, wave in
golden plenty, or are clothed in living green, on which hundreds of
cattle graze, or repose beneath a few of the old trees which are yet
standing. It fails not to arrest the attention and call forth the
admiration of the passenger along the Scioto. 'Twas here Mr. Newton
built him a tolerably convenient cabin, and commenced his labors. He
had taken up a large tract of country, sufficient to present each of
his children with a handsome patrimony. To the bank was moored a
graceful sail boat, such as had never floated on those waters before,
and which glided upon their even current as "a thing of life." This
was kept principally for the purpose of visiting Mr. Claiborne, who
had selected a level grove about half a mile above, on the other side,
in full view of Mr. Newton's. Directly to the rear, a frowning cliff
reared itself to the clouds; the river laved the rocky bank in front,
down which there was a descent by a flight of steps hewn out of the
limestone, where also was tied a small sail boat. There was, however,
a broader and better way a little above. Mr. Claiborne too, had made
extensive surveys in the country, intending to divide his large
possessions among his children. Modern improvements have also made
this a spot upon which the eye of the delighted and tasteful traveller
is pleased to linger.
An undisturbed intimacy had ever existed between these two families;
and now that they were separated entirely, as it were, from the rest
of the world, exposed to a common danger, and were pursuing no
clashing interests, it had refined into a warm and steady friendship.
A constant intercourse was kept up between them, and means provided to
communicate immediately the alarm, should danger threaten. These two
gentlemen being in the prime and vigor of manhood, labored with
untiring industry. As there was no underwood, and the trees were tall
and did not grow very thick together, _girdling_ sufficed, and they
soon had a considerable farm prepared for planting Indian corn.
The woods abounded in excellent game, and they frequently accompanied
each other in hunting excursions, but never venturing too far, for
fear of accidents or attacks from the Indians; and always taking along
their eldest sons, in order to gratify their anxiety; but principally
to instil into them a bold, fearless, and adventurous spirit,--to
teach them some of the rudiments of the arts and stratagems of border
warfare,--and to train them to a skilful management of their
rifles,--all qualifications indispensably necessary for the
inhabitants of an unsettled and hostile country.
Among all the youths of these two families, Charles Claiborne had
early attracted notice. He displayed indubitable evidences of a
superior intellect, the most gratifying to his father, and which at
the same time won for him the respect and love of his associates. No
envious feelings rankled in their pure bosoms; they sincerely admired
him, and felt that in hours of peril to his skill, intrepidity and
bravery, they must principally look for safety. He had now nearly
attained his eighteenth year, tall and erect as an Indian Chief,
possessing an ease and grace the most simple and natural. No mark of
effeminacy was visible about his manly frame; compact, nervous, and as
active as the wild panther which he hunted. His high, broad and open
forehead, over which his smooth dark locks fell in neglected richness,
betokened the freeness and equability of his disposition, and at the
same time his resoluteness and determination; and a slight wrinkle
betrayed the existence of busy thought. Beneath an arched projecting
brow, his dark gray eye shot forth the fire of youth and genius. It
shone with a peculiar lustre; it would kindle with indignation or
contempt, as he contemplated crime or baseness, or soften down to
tenderness as a tale of woe or distress enlisted his sympathies. The
whole contour of his face was of a perfect mould. Devotedly fond of
intellectual culture, of acquiring information, he soon made himself
master of the little library which his father had brought with him,
composed of a few standard histories, Shakspeare and the Spectator;
and was now, at every spare interval, drawing rich stores of legal
knowledge from a musty old Coke, which he found among the rubbish
brought in his father's wagon, determined to "offer his professional
services" to the litigious part of the community when the country
should become more densely populated.
Several other families had already settled in the neighborhood, and
Charles was deservedly the favorite of them all. But there was _one_
to whom I shrewdly suspect he was even now _peculiarly_ agreeable, and
for whom the kind and obliging neighbors,--who will have their young
acquaintances in love or engaged, any how, and who arrange all such
matters in their gossiping conclaves without the conusance of the
parties,--had already allotted him. In this case they were not (as
usual) without some ground for their suspicions.
Eliza Newton was now arrived at that most interesting period in a
woman's life, just sixteen, when combined with the simplicity and
coyness of the girl, she possesses many of the graces and charming
attractive attributes of maturer womanhood. Like the opening rose,
which displays its crimson folds at morn before one sunbeam has kissed
the dew-drop from its leaves of softest texture, or dimmed its fresh
rich tints, her loveliness was unfolding every day. Like the wild
flowers which she loved to gather from the meadow, she had grown up
without any artificial culture of fashionable _hot beds_, in all her
native sweetness, unpretending beauty, and unaffected modesty. Roaming
at will among the delightful groves around her father's dwelling,
brushing the early dew with her pretty feet from the fragrant herbage,
or wandering at even along the silent banks of the gentle Scioto, when
each zephyr
Offered his young pinion as her fan,
she acquired all the freshness and buoyancy of perfect health. Agile
as the young roe upon the mountain, she moved with the ease, elegance
and elasticity of a Sylph. Not too low to want a sufficient dignity of
mien, she was not so tall as to exceed the proper stature of her sex.
"Her hair's long auburn waves," curbed by a silken fillet, rolled back
from her small white forehead, flowed upon a chiselled neck white as
an Alpine mountain top; her dark blue eyes lay sleeping behind long
raven lashes, until roused, when they betrayed every sentiment of her
soul, beaming with affection or melted with pity; the transcendent hue
of her cheeks contrasted finely with the pure, healthful whiteness of
her complexion, and her sweet moist lips, just curved out enough to
bespeak her mild and even temper. In fine, she was so perfect a model
that
The eye might doubt if it were well awake,
She seemed so like a vision.
Amiability and kindness were the prominent traits of her character,
accompanied with the other female graces. Of a most delicate and acute
sensibility, she was keenly alive to the slightest insult, and would
repel it in a firm and dignified manner; but was ever ready to pour
the balm of reconciliation into a wound mistakenly inflicted. She
carefully forebore to speak disrespectfully of any one, and always
endeavored to place their conduct in the fairest light, which sprang
from the pure benevolence of her heart. And yet withal, she had no
little of the pride of her sex, ready to tear herself from a heart
where she had reason to believe she reigned not sole empress; slightly
imbued with jealousy, which is frequently a concomitant of the most
ardent and devoted attachment, as the deadly viper oft lays encoiled
under the bed of violets upon which we are tempted to repose. From the
small stock of substantial literature which her father's poorly filled
book case afforded, she had cultivated her mind to a degree which
thousands fail to do who have _skimmed_ over an Alexandrian library.
Let no one deem these portraitures exaggerated in any respect, for
these families were among the most respectable and intelligent on the
eastern shores of the Old Dominion; but the barrenness of their sandy
plains yielded them but a small quantum of what was necessary to
sustain them in their high and expensive mode of living. They found
that vast retrenchments were to be made, or they must experience the
pinchings of poverty; and, too proud to endure the mortification of
either in the midst of their old associates and visiters, they
determined to emigrate to the west, where the rich soil affords, with
but little labor, abundance of the necessaries of life, while the
woods and rivers furnish many of its luxuries.
The parents of Charles and Eliza themselves, had marked with
satisfaction and pleasure their growing attachment, and failed not by
evidences of approbation to encourage it. And for _once_ the designs
of prudent parents and the inclinations of inconsiderate, confiding
youths coincided, and promised to result in the happiest of
consequences. Would that it _could_ be always so! How many gray hairs
would it save from going down to the grave loaded with a weight of
sorrow! how many tender hearts would it preserve from an early and
hopeless blight! How many lovely and interesting females would it save
from tortures worse than the fabled one, of being linked to dead
bodies, those of being wedded to rich fools, or sots, or knaves, upon
whom they can never place their affections, and whom they frequently
hate from their inmost hearts.
Though they had ever been in habits of constant intimacy, taught to
view each other in the light of brother and sister, and mingling
freely for years in every sport of their childhood, yet a year or two
having almost magically brought Eliza to womanhood, she began to feel
a strange restraint in the company of Charles, which the presence of
no one else produced. As rapidly as the sweet accents might be falling
from her active tongue, his entrance hushed them completely; and even
he would _labor_ for some time, through a few short sentences. Yet
notwithstanding these unusual effects, each felt that the cause which
produced them was not unwelcomed; and when _plagued about it_, (as the
phrase is) the crimson blush that mantled their burning cheeks,
indicated too clearly where arose this sudden alteration in their
deportment towards each other,--what had put an end to all the little
familiarities before so frequent. Gradually, however, would the leaden
weight fall from Charles' tongue; and as he would relate to the
company in most graphic and thrilling terms his dangerous pursuit of
the fierce panther or infuriated wolf, following them into the most
retired recesses, encountering them in their darkest caverns, and
drawing them forth dead, to the astonishment of his less venturesome
associates,--or his "hair breadth escapes" in wresting from the
infuriated she-bear her whelps, the very great interest vividly
manifest in Eliza's countenance, the breathless attention with which
she hung upon every word and caught each syllable as it fell from his
lips, and the quickly averted glance, her color slightly heightening
as he _frequently_ directed his eye towards her, soon convinced
Charles that he was the object of something more than an ordinary
regard in her bosom; nay, that he had actually won her affections. As
for himself he had long since been enthralled; nor could it be
otherwise. There is in every bosom, susceptibilities for all the
emotions; and so soon as causes calculated to excite them are
presented, quick as an electric flash the emotions succeed. Thus in
love, there is a susceptibility in every mind to be pleased with
certain virtues or actions; and when we perceive them, it is as
impossible not to admire them as to believe that they have never
existed. And when a combination of such qualities without a blemish is
discovered in any person, he had as well try to drive back the current
of the Mississippi as to resist the inevitable consequence. The
emotion of _love_ involuntarily arises; he _must_ love, for such is
his mental constitution; the feeling becomes a part of himself; he had
no agency in effecting it; he feels not, nor can he feel a disposition
to divest himself of it. Circumstances may induce him to check it, to
trample it down, to clip each bud as it appears, but he can never
extinguish it; he cannot destroy it. But let him give himself up to be
bound in its pleasant fetters; let him suffer it to sway an undivided
sceptre over him; let him give loose reins to it; let him plunge
himself into its delicious tide, and drink with a quenchless thirst
its intoxicating draughts; and then let him be thwarted, and no one
may safely predict the consequences to even the most powerful
intellect, that contemns every other loss or reverse of fortune. Until
something is done to excite a contrary emotion, ages of separation
cannot dim or extinguish it. For as in some fluids the application of
heat may entirely alter their qualities, so in love, a deception or
disappointment in some admired or prominent qualification, frequently
changes every feeling of regard for the object, into the most bitter
and relentless hatred.
A very short time intervened, before Charles summoned the resolution
to communicate the existence of his passion. Upon a mild evening in
May, as the shadows stretched their gigantic lengths across the plain,
Charles moored his little boat at the foot of the hill, and ascended
to Mr. Newton's. Eliza (as usual) met him at the door, and ushered him
into an apartment denominated the parlor, though appropriated to
various uses. They were seated by an open window toward the west,
along the frames of which a honey-suckle twined its clinging tendrils;
the mild, red rays of the setting sun peered through its thick
foliage, and added a brighter tint to Eliza's fine complexion; the
evening dews were falling upon the blooming honey-suckle, which
breathed its fragrant odors upon the happy pair. She seemed to look
peculiarly sweet and lovely. A few desultory remarks upon the serenity
and pleasantness of the evening, and then--in language which I shall
not detail--he poured out his heart's fulness into her ear. At this
avowal, her face budded into a rich rubescent glow, and the veins in
her clear, round neck, swelled almost to bursting. She replied not;
but a yielding of her soft little hand, which be involuntarily pressed
to his lips, confirmed the happiness of the enraptured swain--and blew
into an inextinguishable flame, that spark of love, which he had long
cherished within his heart, and fanned with a sleepless assiduity. He
soon departed for his father's; he rowed slowly up the river, whose
waves reflecting the moonbeams, seemed like molten gold, while the
stars twinkled brightly above him: the scene was enchanting, and his
already excited feelings caught the inspiration. A plunge against the
bank awakened him from his reverie, and he discovered that he was far
above his father's. The delighted girl retired to her room, and wept
herself to sleep--when she dreamed incessantly of Elysian fields, and
happy islands upon the bosom of the deep blue sea, through which she
and her Charles roamed happy as their fabled inhabitants. Very
_frequently_ after this, was Charles' little boat seen gliding, in the
cool of the evening, towards Mr. Newton's; and he seemed much more
addicted to hunting of late, particularly on the _west_ side of the
river, especially as he never failed, on his return from his fatiguing
rambles, to meet at Mr. Newton's the best refreshments, prepared in
Eliza's most tasty style.
Thus a year marched onward in the track of time, unmarked by any
unusual incident. The parties heeded not its rapid flight, but
enjoying together every amusement and innocent pleasure which their
imaginations could devise, they lived in a state the nearest to bliss
they ever saw on earth.
Early however, in the following summer, as Mr. Claiborne's family were
sitting beneath a large oak in the yard, being refreshed by the pure,
cool breezes from the river, Charles espied Eliza wandering, with a
little sister, along the meadows on the opposite side, gayly and
joyously taking her accustomed recreation, and plucking the
innumerable wild flowers that decorated her path. So long had this
settlement been undisturbed, that a dread of the savages no longer
existed; both children and females walked miles unaccompanied, and
without the least apprehension of danger, relaxing their precaution in
many particulars. While Charles was eyeing with delight Eliza's
graceful movements, he saw two Indians dart suddenly from the edge of
a thick copse of pawpaw, and seizing the frantic girl and child, bear
them off, shrieking, into the woods. Charles distinctly heard the
screaming, which pierced his inmost soul. "My God!" he exclaimed, "she
is taken;" and springing from his seat, he rushed into the house. The
affrighted family followed him, to learn the cause of his conduct; but
all he said was, "the Indians have taken her! have taken her!" Excited
almost to madness, seizing his rifle, he flew to the stable, mounted
his fleet hunter without his saddle, and calling his faithful
bloodhound, went as fast as his charger, urged on by every incentive,
could carry him; and at the same time crying, "Indians! Indians!" He
swam the river, and the astonished family soon saw him entering the
woods, his fierce dog upon the track. The alarm was soon given, and
the whole neighborhood was in commotion. Charles pursued, as well as
he could through the trees, the course of his unerring bloodhound.
Swift as the wind, had the Indians run over hill and dale towards the
lakes, until long after midnight; thinking they had not been seen, and
had eluded pursuit; weary with bearing upon their backs their helpless
captives, and reaching a deep ravine, they determined to kindle a fire
and prepare some refreshments. They bound each of the girls to a
sapling with a strip of bark, and commenced their culinary operations.
Scarcely had they been seated an hour, before Charles approached, and
seeing the light, called in, softly, his hound, and dismounted to
reconnoitre. A moment's observation satisfied him. He could see but
one of the Indians, and he sat just beyond Eliza, his _head_ only
perceptible above her's. The least tremor or precipitancy might defeat
his purpose--kill the prized object which he wished to rescue, or
place them both at the _mercy_ of the savages. With deliberation, a
firm and steady arm, he levelled his rifle, and fired,--the impatient
dog at the same time springing forward with the fierceness of a tiger.
Charles rushed to the spot, with a drawn knife. One Indian lay
senseless weltering in his blood; and seizing a tomahawk, he plunged
it into the head of the other, who was engaged in mortal strife with
the eager hound, which clung to his throat with an iron grasp. He
severed at a stroke the cursed cords that bound the pretty form of his
Eliza. As the truth opened to the vision of the enraptured girl,
overpowered with joy, she fell insensate into his arms: he drew her
closely to his bosom, felt the wild fluttering of her little heart,
and kissed to life again her bloodless lips. Gradually she revived,
and in the bewildered consciousness of waking, threw her arms around
his neck, calling his name in the most tender, affectionate accents.
"Could all the hours of hope, joy and pleasure in Charles' previous
life, have been melted down and concentrated into a single emotion,
that emotion would have been _tame_ to the _rapture_ of Eliza's
momentary embrace."[1] Upon complete restoration, she wept with real
pleasure; poured out upon her benefactor, her deliverer, her own
Charles, ceaseless expressions of gratitude and love--renewed her
faithful vows, and "plighted them upon her heart." Ah, why not, in
such a moment, let the bright spirit wing its upward flight, nor keep
it here to feel the stings of remorse or pain. Day had dawned. This
was the first human blood Charles had ever shed; and as he left this
eventful spot, yet pointed out to the traveller, he cast an eye of
pity upon the senseless corpses, and even then a sigh of regret
escaped his tender bosom. Taking Eliza behind him, and her sister
before, he pointed out the way to his hound, and commenced his return.
He soon met with some of the party who had commenced the pursuit, and
with them, returned to bear the precious, rescued captives, to their
anxious, miserable parents. Such a day of rejoicing, the settlement
had never seen before, when the glad tidings were made known; and the
heroic adventure of Charles received the merited applause of all.
[Footnote 1: Bulwer.]
Of late years, there had been a rapid influx of emigrants from the
east to this part of the Ohio; and a small village had sprung up, as a
mushroom in the night, a few miles below this settlement. To this
place all the produce of the country was carried, by the inhabitants,
to be exchanged for such articles of necessity or luxury as they
wanted. It soon became a flourishing little town. Its necessities
called for a post office, to which there was a weekly mail on
horseback from the East, and from Fort Washington, (now Cincinnati.) A
very respectable merchant of that place was appointed, with general
satisfaction, the post master. His name was Bryant, a native of
Pennsylvania. He was considered a very honorable and active young
gentleman--very prepossessing in his appearance, easy and agreeable in
his manners, intelligent, and quite popular. His evident fondness for
drinking was not _then deemed_ a disgrace, and his tendency to
extravagance was attributed to his generous and liberal disposition;
and every body sagely predicted, that age would lop off these
excrescences from a character otherwise very good. He had seen Miss
Newton several times, and had become enamored of her, and his visits
to her father's became very frequent; for though he received no
encouragement whatever from the daughter, he was always treated
politely and respectfully, and with true old Virginia hospitality, by
the parents.
The earnest efforts of the President of the United States, to give
security to the northwestern frontier by pacific arrangements, having
proved unavailing, it became evident that vigorous offensive
operations only would bring the Indian war to a happy conclusion.
Accordingly, in 1791, General Harmer was ordered to leave Fort
Washington with a considerable body of troops, and to bring the
Indians to an engagement, or at least to destroy totally their
villages upon the Scioto and Miami rivers. A general call was made
upon the militia of Ohio and the surrounding states, to join in this
expedition, which if successful, would permanently secure them against
the dreadful incursions of their savage foes. Fired with indignation
at the late outrage committed in the neighborhood, and impelled by a
noble ambition for distinction, young Claiborne commenced enlisting a
company of volunteers. He soon succeeded in obtaining a hundred
signatures to his list, from the extensive county of Ross, and was
unanimously elected their captain. The first of October was appointed
as the day for commencing their march.
As much as Eliza admired this manifestation of bravery and patriotism
in Charles, and how highly soever she might be pleased to hear of his
distinction, this resolve of his was a source of real pain to the
affectionate and devoted girl. The innumerable dangers and hardships
of Indian warfare, magnified by her attachment to him who was to be
subject to them, overwhelmed her with grief and sad apprehensions.
Charles' visits to Mr. Newton's were no less frequent than heretofore,
and his efforts to console his weeping Eliza, and relieve her fears,
were unceasing. He painted to her, her own late fortunate escape, and
told her of the salutary consequences to their own security and
prosperity, which must ensue from a subjugation of the enemy. She was
partly reconciled and resigned. But banish she could not, her
forebodings of ill, so natural. Ah! love, why
"With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers?"
Why is the brimming cup of bliss dashed down just as it touches the
opening lips? Why are all our fond hopes delusions--all our realities
as fruit of the dead sea, beautiful to the eye, but turning to bitter
ashes on the tongue--but to loosen the already too tenacious hold with
which we cling to this world, and fasten it on the skies? Who reads
not this in every day's experience? Yet who, alas! obeys the warning?
With painful, tortured feelings, did this devoted pair note the
merciless rapidity with which time bore off the two short weeks yet
remaining, before his departure. The last day of September had
arrived, and to-morrow Charles must meet his company at the village.
Towards evening he rowed over to Mr. Newton's, with a heavy heart; yet
fearful of no consequences from his absence, but the pain of a
separation from one whose being constituted a part of his own
existence. Charles had given up his whole heart, and loved with an
ardency stronger than death itself. A melancholy sadness sat upon
Eliza's countenance, and a crystal tear-drop glistened in her pensive
eye,--which made her appear peculiarly interesting to the devoted
Charles. The reader must imagine the thousand mutual vows of unaltered
and unalterable affection--the unreserved surrender of the whole
heart--the frequent oaths by the immoveable hills--the pressing
importunities never to forget or forsake--to casket in each other's
heart but one jewel, each other's image--and the innumerable other
such things which lovers are wont to pour forth on far less serious
occasions. He promised to write frequently; and to insure her of his
purpose, he said that should he not, she might properly think that he
had forgotten her, and that all his vows were false; for there would
be a constant intercourse between the army and Fort Washington,--to
which place he could forward his letters, and thence they would
certainly come safely by mail. When about to leave, he took her pretty
little hand, and drawing a plain gold ring from his pocket, placed it
on her slender, tapered finger; and knowing that the blood which
flowed beneath his grasp, came warm from a heart that throbbed for him
alone, he impressed it with a thousand kisses, and washed them off
with his manly tears. Let not the callous, cold-hearted worldling,
curl his worthless lip in derision--or the _proud_ man made of sterner
stuff, "blush for his sex." Unfeeling indeed, would he have been, had
he done otherwise; for there stood the prettiest creature in the
world, who had enriched him with an enviable affection, one arm around
his neck, her aching head leaning against his breast, and her pure,
innocent bosom, which never yet felt the piercings of sorrow's icy
dart, heaving with the most convulsive sobs. Who has not felt that the
thought of a month's separation from one we love, though conscious of
its short duration, sickens the heart? But hope, the mild soother of
every ill which betides us, and which brightly gilds our darkest
forebodings, could here scarcely administer its delusive consolation;
and they were to separate, pained and tortured by the "undying
thought, that they _no more_ might meet." He who can look with scorn
or coldness on such a scene as this, or calling it weakness, laugh at
it,--may keep his poor enjoyment for me, and without my envy, go along
his cheerless path, unillumed by a single ray of true and warm
affection, himself a stranger to one tender emotion.
The volunteers commenced their march on the morrow, intending to unite
with the main body of forces on the Miami; but in a few days met
General Harmer on his way to reduce the savages upon the Scioto, and
did much brave service in the severe but fruitless conflict on that
river,--Claiborne gallantly and heroically distinguishing himself at
their head, and obtained a particular notice in the public despatches
of the commanding officer. He returned with the troops to Fort
Washington, and addressed a letter to his father, and one to Eliza,
giving a glowing description of the deadly engagement.
In the disastrous battle upon the Miami, under General St. Clair, he
was among the bravest of those who, under General Darke, so daringly
charged at the point of the bayonet the concealed Indians, and drove
them from their covert twice, but without material advantage; and
among those who greatly distinguished themselves for fearlessly
fronting the most threatening danger, was Captain Claiborne--and
justice was done to his intrepidity and cool bravery in the official
despatches. In the glorious battle upon the Maumee, where General
Wayne commanded--refusing to surrender the station of commandant of
his own brave and hardy volunteers, now greatly reduced, for the
office of Colonel in the regular army, he was in the front rank of
that legion, which advanced with trailed arms, and hunted the Indians
from their concealment, which produced the utter route of the enemy,
terminated in their overthrow, and forced them to a tame
submission--which eventuated in a definitive treaty of peace in 1795,
and brought joy and gladness to the heart of every western citizen.
Four tedious and eventful years had Charles been absent from one,
around whom his heart's tenderest affections clung with a deathless
tenacity, and for whose sake not one hour in the day o'erslipped him,
that he sighed not. Why he never returned while the army was stationed
at its various winter quarters, I am unable to say. But unnumbered
times had he written the most passionate and affectionate letters; and
to them all he had never received an answer. For this he consoled
himself with the thought, that they had supposed it fruitless to send
letters to one whose situation was so uncertain, or to Eliza's
delicacy to entrust her communications to so precarious a mode of
conveyance, which was rendered probable by his _father's_ not having
written. Any excuse satisfied him, and quelled every doubt of the
fidelity of one whose constancy it was painful to _suspect_. 'Twas the
thought of her--the thought that the unyielding opposition of these
savages so long detained him from her presence, that drove him upon
their unshrinking ranks with a tiger-like ferocity, and nerved his arm
for the resistless stroke. And now that his object was accomplished,
at the head of the few remaining volunteers who started with him, he
took up his line of march for the peaceful valley of the Scioto, where
he flattered himself he should close his life in tranquillity and with
honor, possessed of a treasure, richer far
"Than all the trophies of the victor are."
How false, alas! all human calculations! What a cheat our every hope!
After a long and painful journey, he reached a hill which overlooked
his home--that silent valley, where he had enjoyed his only bliss
unmixed with grief.
"He stopped. What singular emotions fill
Their bosoms who have been induced to roam,
With fluttering doubts if all be well or ill?"
He reached his father's house, and was received with the greatest joy
by its inmates. They had almost despaired of his return, so long had
they been ignorant of his very existence; and his arrival dissipated
the cloud of grief which had frequently overshadowed them. The bustle
of first greetings over, he had some excellent refreshments set out
for his companions; and when they drank his health with repeated
cheers, he addressed them for a few minutes in the most feeling
strains, expressed his gratitude for the noble and faithful manner in
which they had discharged their duties, and wished them years of
prosperity and happiness to compensate them for their toils and
dangers. When he finished, each one pressing his hand, shouldered his
knapsack and left for his own _home_.
And now he hurried to his mother's apartment to gather some
intelligence concerning his friends; and to his first inquiry about
Eliza, the old lady rather pleasantly remarked, "you staid too
long--she's married!" Little did she anticipate the effect this
communication produced. With an incredulous air, he replied, "you
jest. Eliza Newton, married! dead, rather! no, never. But to whom!"
"To Mr. Bryant?" At once the fatal truth flashed upon his mind, and
pierced his brain like a hot fire-brand. "_Eliza Newton_, so
forgetful, so ungrateful, so inconstant, so _deceitful!_" His heart
sunk within him. The object which he adored, _unworthy!_ Suddenly his
head drooped to his knee, and one convulsive groan told the anguish of
his soul. His mother called to him in soothing accents. He lifted
himself, deadly pale, his lips all dabbled with blood, a vein had
burst, his fiery eyes gleamed with a wild and unnatural glare, and
gazing with a piercing stare upon his petrified mother, he shrieked in
a thrilling, fearful tone, "impossible, _she_, false! then where is
truth?" and springing to his feet, he fell senseless on the floor. His
distracted mother just recovered from her alarm, flew for assistance;
he was soon consigned to a bed, and a messenger despatched to the
village for a physician. He gazed on all with a vacant stare--his old
broken-hearted father sat beside him, and he turned himself away. His
weeping sisters sat around his pillow, but he knew them not. His
temples throbbed furiously, and his blood coursed through his veins in
rapid, boiling waves. All feared that his manly intellect had been
shivered by this sudden and tremendous stroke. The physician
arrived,--and assured them, that he had hopes that his mind was not
irreparably impaired, and by keeping him still and quiet, with the
help of some cooling draughts, he might yet recover, though his brain
was considerably affected. He remained a while to watch the symptoms,
and then leaving such directions as his skill suggested, he left this
afflicted family. He returned and reported the case and its cause. The
report soon reached the ears of Mrs. Bryant--when with a chilling
effect, the remembrance of early affection came across her--the ghosts
of by-gone joys stalked around her--but no distraction ensued--_tears_
came to her relief, and quenched the fires that seemed to consume her
heart. Frequently the stroke which crushes the stout and stubborn mind
of man, only bruises the more pliable and yielding intellect of woman,
as the storm before which the slender reed bows to the ground, but
rises when it is past, tears up by the roots, and dashes to a thousand
pieces the gnarled oak. There was one consoling thought, however,
which mitigated the pains that Mrs. Bryant felt. There was another
reason which calmed her troubled bosom. Whenever there appears an
object of pity, or charity, every feeling of woman is enlisted to
administer relief; and as the lighter bodies float upon the surface,
self, with all its concerns and every other consideration, for the
present, sinks to the bottom,--while tenderness, sympathy and
kindness, direct every sentiment and exertion in favor of the
sufferer. Such was the case in the present instance. Her husband was
from home, and Mrs. Bryant loaded with every thing suited to
Claiborne's situation, hastened to her father's, and then to Mr.
Claiborne's. She was kindly and affectionately received by the family.
Pale and agitated, she entered the apartment of her unfortunate
Charles. He turned an unmeaning glance upon her, but recognised her
not. This she scarcely regretted, as she might administer each healing
potion, or bathe his burning temples, without his knowing the hand
which did it. For a week or two she remained at her father's, going
over every day, and frequently sitting beside his bed through the long
silent watches of the night, ruminating with a bleeding heart, upon
her own unfortunate situation, all her affection revived for one she
had driven to madness, and whom she could never possess--keen despair
and biting remorse, her only reward for the part she had acted in this
sad tragedy. As memory retraced upon her mind with a burning finger
each happy moment of her youth now gone, and her fond hopes
disappointed--she cursed bitterly the hour in which she first saw the
light. Unspeakable anguish!--Mr. Bryant returned, _and thought her
presence necessary at home_. Reluctantly she obeyed, she feared to see
his face. She was deceived--she had never rendered him her whole
heart, and even that little seemed now to quit its hold. Censure her
not, but listen further. With a sharp reproof for her _imprudence_,
Bryant suffered her no more to visit her father's. Submissively she
obeyed. She endeavored to respect and appear agreeable to her husband.
And by her unceasing exertion she partly succeeded, and he seemed
reconciled, but from her heart of hearts, his image was excluded.
'Twas true the nuptials had been celebrated, the troth plighted, but
it was all a sacrilege, they had never been united "heart in heart."
Her affections had never been _wholly_ estranged from Claiborne.
Assidiously after his departure, did Bryant urge his suit, but without
the least prospect of success: yet the ardency of his love, suffered
no denial to frustrate his designs. He however grew apace, in favor
with her father; his bland, and agreeable manners, and business
habits, made him quite acceptable to the old gentleman. Two years had
now gone by, and yet not one word in any shape from Charles. The
defeats of Harmer and St. Clair had reached their ears, and probably
he had fallen among the heroic officers, who met their fate in those
calamitous engagements. So thought Mr. Newton,--if not, he had treated
them very disrespectfully. Eliza was loath to think so. But we have
observed that she was acutely sensible, and possessed of some of the
pride of her sex. She remembered Charles' last words, and began to
suspect they were designedly spoken, and that probably he had gone on
this expedition for the express purpose, else why would he have staid
so long unnecessarily, as she supposed; and not a syllable had he
written her, though two years had elapsed. Even to a less jealous mind
these incidents would have been strong confirmations. And dwelling
upon them, she wrought herself into the belief that Charles had
deceived her--and she determined to be independent, and to tear her
affections from him, cost what it might. She sighed that it was so,
but gave him up without an effort. Had he never returned, she might
probably have lived at least a contented life.
Bryant was scrupulously silent on the subject of Charles' absence or
his neglect, suffering it to produce its own effects. Yet Eliza loved
_him_ not. But since she had loosed her hold on Charles, she seemed to
be out on the boundless sea--without a spot on which to cast hope's
anchor; and woman must love something--she loves to love. And yielding
to the importunities, the frequent suggestions of her father, who
thought it would be a very _prudent_ match, and a very agreeable one
with a little exertion on her part--she determined to _hazard_ the
throw, and granted Mr. Bryant her hand. Would that parents grown
prudent with age, and thinking only of _wealth_, would recall for a
moment their own youthful sentiments, and not urge their children into
engagements against which every feeling revolts--for however small the
defect objected to, or how groundless soever each little prejudice,
yet they may produce jars and schisms the most disagreeable and
painful, and for which no splendor of equipage or name can ever
compensate. The nuptials of Eliza and Bryant were celebrated the fall
before Charles' return, with considerable eclat for that quiet
settlement. And though the bride seemed calm and contented, yet she
had lost her former gaiety and buoyancy of spirits. With the exception
of a slight ebullition of anger, occasionally, things had glided on
smoothly till Charles' return, and thus they stood at that time.
Slowly and gradually Claiborne recovered his senses and health. After
three months close confinement he was so far improved as to be able to
ride a little on horseback, or take short excursions upon the river in
the sail boat. The presence of old scenes revived his memory, and
seemed to strengthen his other faculties. Though pensive ever, yet his
alienation returned not. After he had fairly recovered, for the first
time, he inquired, if they had never heard from him. When told
_never_, he said it was mysterious, as he had written hundreds of
times, and first from Fort Washington itself. He said a black deed
might yet develope itself. And when informed that Eliza had kindly
waited on him, until prohibited by her husband, he exclaimed,
"deception! I am satisfied. But let me not stay where every scene
sends a dagger to my heart." All preparations were soon made and the
unhappy Claiborne left his home, his weeping friends, the haunts of
his early youth, and the theatre of his only blissful hours, for the
territory of Mississippi, where he practised law. He soon became
popular throughout the whole country, and was finally elevated to the
Chief Magistracy of the state. After having filled his term of office
with distinguished honor, he retired to private life; and soon after
sunk to an early grave, "unregretting--regretted by all." Like the
meteor flash, his career was brilliant, but transient. With his health
he never regained his natural gay and lightsome temperament. Gloomy
and melancholy he shunned the abodes of pleasure or merriment--lived
in retirement, and cherished within his bosom an unextinguishable
flame, that "finally corroded each vital part," and sunk him to the
tomb.
Not long after Claiborne's departure, Bryant went upon a trading
expedition, and for the first time left his keys with his wife, with
the charge, that if a certain person called for some money, to let him
have it out of his desk. While there for that purpose, her
curiosity--I might say her suspicions--led her to examine the contents
of the drawers, when in one, oh! blackest deed on memory's record! oh!
most base and villainous deception! She met with a large packet of
letters addressed to herself and Claiborne's father. Pale and
motionless she stood, struck with amazement and horror. She saw
herself the _wife_ of a vile hypocrite--the author of all her own
misery and sorrow--the demon of the desolation and blight of happiness
she had witnessed in an excellent family--the injurer and almost
_murderer_ of the noble and generous Charles Claiborne. The idea froze
the blood in her very heart. She read Claiborne's repeated
declarations of increasing affection in every letter--the irksomeness
of all his pursuits uncheered by her smiles,--his kind but touching
reproofs for not writing--his marked effort in every line to please
and delight--they were all unsealed and had been read by this
cool-blooded villain. The blackness of the deed was aggravated by the
deliberation with which it was done, and that too, while he perceived
the anxiety and painful suspense of the dearest friends of one, whom
he was thus so deeply injuring. The poor Eliza had borne up under all
but this; and now that she saw her _husband_ a fiend at heart--her
anguish was insupportable--her bosom was racked with every conflicting
emotion--her eyes swam--her bewildered brain whirled, and she sank to
the floor. How long she lay in this state she knew not; but when she
recovered, she replaced every thing carefully, and retired. Ten
thousand agonizing reflections inflicted their torments upon her mind.
She soon resolved upon her course. Erring on the better side, she
determined to endure every suffering, to preserve her _husband_ from
ignominy, but to cherish her sorrows, which she hoped would very soon
wear out the little of life that remained--
But life's strange principle will often lie,
Deepest in those who long the most to die.
And she _did_ live, to be chained yet longer to one she could but
hate--she lived to receive the abuse of one who by a hell-engendered
artifice seduced her from the sheltering, peaceful roof of her
father--she lived to see him a beastly slave to intoxication--she
lived to see her whole family reduced to want and misery by becoming
sureties for this now unprincipled spendthrift--she lived to see the
just retribution of heaven poured out upon the defenceless head, of
this serpent, which wound his way into Paradise and brought its
inmates to shame and poverty--she lived to see him die in want and
disgrace, raving with the agonies of despair. And she herself survived
but a short time, a pensioner upon the bounty of a few friends, who
received her into their houses, to cheer, if possible, the approaching
close of her painful and wretched existence;--which blind,
presumptuous man, ignorant of the wise designs of Providence would
fain pronounce too severe a fate, for a flower so tender and beautiful
in its first buddings.
_Lovingston, Virginia, March 25, 1835_.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.