CHAPTER II.

The door of the house was open, and custom admitted every visitor

freely, whatever was his errand. It was a strange state of society, in

which men, though taught by daily experience that precaution was

necessary, took none. They held themselves occasionally ready to repel

open assault, which was rare, and neglected every safeguard against

insidious attack, which was much more common. They were frank and free

spirits in those olden times; and, though it be now the custom to

sneer at the state of society, and the habits both of thought and

action, in days long gone, methinks it might have been better, while

we polished away the coarseness of our ancestors, and remedied some of

the evils of their early state, to have striven hard to retain their

higher and finer qualities, their generous confidence, and that

expansiveness of heart which the world so seldom sees in an age of

mere material conveniences.

The door stood open, and it was the custom of the few who visited that

secluded spot, to enter without ceremony, and to search in any or

every room in the house for some one of the inhabitants. But, on this

occasion, the horse that came up the road stopped at the gate of the

little fence, and the traveller, when he reached the door, after

dismounting, knocked with his whip before he entered.

The master of the house rose and went to the door. He was somewhat

impatient of ceremony in a place where ceremony had long ceased; and

his thoughts had not been of a tranquillizing nature; but the aspect

and demeanor of his visitor were not of a kind to nourish any angry

feeling. The latter was a young and very handsome man, probably not

more than thirty years of age, sinewy, and well formed in person, with

a noble and commanding countenance, a broad, lofty brow, and a keen,

but tranquil eye. His manner was courteous, but grave; and he said,

without waiting to have his errand asked--

"I know not, sir, whether I shall intrude upon you too far in asking

hospitality for the night; but the sun is going down, and I was told

by a lad whom I met in the woods just now, that there is no other

house for ten miles farther, and, to say the truth, I am very ignorant

of the way."

"Come in," said the master of the cottage; "we never refuse to receive

a visiter here; and, indeed, have sometimes to accommodate more than

the house will well hold. We are alone, however, now, and you will not

have to put up with the inconveniences which our guests are sometimes

obliged to encounter. Stay, I will order your horse to be taken care

of."

Thus saying, he advanced a step or two beyond the door, and called, in

a loud voice, for some one whom he named Agrippa. He had to shout more

than once, however, before a negro appeared, blind in one eye, and

somewhat lame withal, but yet, apparently, both active and

intelligent.

The necessary orders were soon given; and, in a minute after, the

traveller was seated with his host in the little parlour of the

cottage. The manner of the latter could not be called cordial, though

it was polite and courteous. It spoke a man acquainted with other

scenes and other habits, but not a lover of his race; not a social or

a genial spirit. The feelings, the thoughts, the memories, which had

been busy in his brain, if not in his heart, before the arrival of the

stranger, had thrown a coldness over his manner, which was only

rendered not repulsive by the suavity of his words.

The other seemed to feel this in some degree; and a certain

stateliness appeared in his demeanor, which was not likely to warm his

host into greater familiarity.

Suddenly, however, the chilly atmosphere of the room was warmed in a

moment, and a chain of sympathy was established between the two, by

the presence of youth. A boy of fifteen, and a girl a little more than

a year older, entered with gay and sunshiny looks, and the cloud was

dispelled in a moment.

"My daughter Edith--my son Walter," said the master of the house,

addressing the stranger, as the two young people bounded in; and then

he added, with a slight inclination of the head, "It was an ancient

and honourable custom in Scotland, when that country was almost as

uncivilized as this, and possessed all the uncivilized virtues, never

to inquire the name of a guest; and therefore I cannot introduce you

to my children; but, doubtless, they will soon acknowledge you as

their nameless friend."

"I am a friend of one of them already," answered the stranger, holding

out his hand to the lad. "This is the young gentleman who told me that

I should find the only house within ten miles about this spot, and his

father willing to receive me--though he did not say that I should find

a gem in the wilderness, and a gentleman in these wild woods."

"It has been a foolish fancy, perhaps," said the master of the house,

"to carry, almost into the midst of savage life, some remnants of

civilization. We keep the portraits of dead friends--a lock of hair--a

trinket--a garment of the loved and departed. The habits and the

ornaments of another state of society are to me like those dead

friends, and I love to have some of their relics near me."

"Oh, my dear father," said Edith, seating herself by him, and leaning

her head upon his bosom, without timidity or restraint, "you could

never do without them. I remember when we were coming hither, now

three years ago, that you talked a great deal of the joys of free,

unshackled, natural existence; but I knew quite well, even then, that

you would not be content till you had subdued the rough things around

you to a more refined state."

"What made you think so, Edith?" asked her father, looking down at her

with a smile.

"Because you never could bear the parson of the parish drinking punch

and smoking tobacco-pipes," answered the beautiful girl, with a laugh;

"and I was quite sure that it was not more savage life you sought, but

greater refinement."

"Oh, yes, my father," added the lad, "and you often said, when we were

in England, that the red Indian had much more of the real gentleman in

him than many a peer."

"Dreams, dreams!" ejaculated their father, with a melancholy smile;

and then, turning to the stranger, he added, "you see, sir, how keenly

our weaknesses are read even by children. But come, Edith, our friend

must be hungry with his long ride; see and hasten the supper. Our

habits are primeval here, sir, like our woods. We follow the sun to

bed, and wake him in the morning."

"They are good habits," observed the stranger, "and such as I am

accustomed to follow myself. But do not, I pray you, hasten your

supper for me. I am anything but a slave of times and seasons. I can

fast long and fare scantily, without inconvenience."

"And yet you are an Englishman," remarked the master of the house,

gravely; "a soldier, or I mistake; a man of rank and station, I am

sure; though all three would generally imply, as the world goes at

this present time, a fondness for luxurious ease and an indulgence of

all the appetites."

A slight flush came into his companion's cheek, and the other hastened

to add,--

"Believe me, I meant nothing discourteous. I spoke of the Englishman,

the soldier, and the man of rank and station, generally--not of

yourself. I see it is far otherwise with you."

"You hit hard, my good friend," rejoined the stranger, "and there is

some truth in what you say. But, perhaps, I have seen as many lands as

you; and I boldly venture to pronounce that the fault is in the age,

not in the nation, the profession, or the class. We will try to amend

it. That is the best course; and, though individual effort can do but

little, each separate man may improve several others; and thus onward

to better things and better days."

As he spoke, he rose, walked thoughtfully to the window, and gazed out

for a moment or two in silence; and then, turning round, he said,

addressing his host's son--"How beautifully the setting sun shines

down yonder glade in the forest, pouring, as it were, in a golden mist

through the needle foliage of the pines! Runs there a road down

there?"

The boy answered in the affirmative; and, drawing close to the

stranger's side, pointed out to him by the undulations of the ground,

and the gaps in the tree-tops, the wavy line that the road followed,

down the side of the gentle hill on which the house stood, and up the

opposite ascent. His description was peculiarly clear and accurate. He

seemed to have marked every tree and stone and brook along the path;

and where a by-way diverged, or where the road divided into two, he

noted the marking object, saying--

"By a white oak and a great hemlock tree, there is a footpath to the

left: at a clump of large cedars on the edge of the swamp the road

forks out to the right and left, one branch leading eastward towards

the river, and one out westward to the hunting-grounds."

The stranger seemed to listen to him with pleasure, often turning his

eyes to the lad's face as he spoke, rather than to the landscape to

which he pointed; and when he had done, he laid, his hand on his

shoulder, saying--

"I wish I had such a guide as you, Walter, for my onward journey."

"Will it be far?" asked the youth.

"Good faith, I cannot well tell," answered the other. "It may be as

far as Montreal, or even to Quebec, if I get not satisfaction soon."

"I could not guide you as far as that," replied the boy; "but I know

every step towards the lakes, as well as an Indian."

"With whom he is very fond of consorting," said his father, with a

smile.

But before the conversation could proceed, an elderly, respectable

woman-servant entered the room, and announced that supper was on the

table. Edith had not returned; but they found her in a large, oblong

chamber, to which the master of the house led the way. There was a

long table in the midst, and four wooden chairs arranged round one

end, over which a snowy table-cloth was spread. The rest of the table

was bare. But a number of other seats, and two or three benches, were

in the room, while at equal distances on either side, touching the

walls, lay several bear-skins and buffalo-skins, as if spread out for

beds.

The eye of the stranger glanced over them as he entered; but his host

replied to his thoughts with a smile, saying--

"We will lodge you somewhat better than that, sir. We have, just now,

more than one room vacant; but you must know there is no such thing as

privacy in this land, and when we have a visit from our Indian

friends, those skins make them supremely happy. I often smile to think

how a red man would feel in Holland sheets. I tried it once, but it

did not succeed. He pulled the blankets off the bed, and slept upon

the floor."

When the companions were seated at table the conversation turned to

many subjects, general, of course; yet personally interesting to both

the elder members of the party--at least, so it seemed from the

eagerness with which they discussed them. The state of the colonies

was spoken of; the state of England; the relation of the two to each

other; and the dangers which were then apprehended from the

encroaching spirit of the French, who were pushing forward posts on

every point of their frontier, into territories undoubtedly British.

No mention was ever made of even the probability of the separation of

England from her North American colonies; for at that time the idea

had never entered into the imagination of any, except some of those

quiet students of the past, who sometimes derive, from the very

dissimilar history of former days, a foresight regarding the future,

which partakes of, without being wholly, intuition, and whose

warnings, like Cassandra's, are always scoffed at till the time for

remedial action is passed. The danger to the British possessions in

North America seemed, to the eyes of almost all men, to lie in the

power, the eager activity, and the grasping spirit of France; and the

little cloud of dissatisfaction, no bigger than a man's hand, which

hung upon the horizon of British interests in the transatlantic world,

was little supposed to forebode the storm and the earthquake which

should rend the colonies from the mother-country. Alas, for man's

calculations, and for his foresight! How rarely, how very rarely, do

they penetrate below the surface of the present or the future!

Both the host and his guest had travelled far, and had seen much.

Both, also, had thought much; but experience was, of course, on the

side of the elder. The other, however, had one advantage--he had seen

the European countries of which they spoke, at a much later period

than his companion; and many great changes had taken place, of which

the latter had no personal knowledge. Thus, they viewed the state of

society in the old world from different points, and, of course, held

different opinions, especially regarding France. Nevertheless, the

views of him who had not been in that land for many years were, upon

the whole, more accurate than those of the other. He was a man of

singular acuteness of perception, who judged less from broad and

glittering surfaces than from small but fundamental facts; while the

other, a man of action and quick intelligence, though clear and

accurate in his perception of all with which he had immediately to do,

judged it a waste of time to carry his thoughts far into the future,

over which he could have no control. Somewhat dazzled by the military

display, and, apparently, well-cemented power of government which he

had beheld in France just before he quitted Europe, he entertained

great apprehensions regarding her progress in America, and expressed

them.

"I entertain but little fear," replied the other, "and will never

remove a steer from my stall till I see the French at my door. They

may advance for some short distance, and for some short time, but they

will be forced to recoil."

"God grant it!" ejaculated the guest; "but more energetic measures

must be taken to repel them than have been hitherto employed. The

French force at this time in Canada, I am assured, outnumbers, by many

thousands, the whole disposable forces of our colonies. They are of a

different material, too, from our armies, and officered by very

different men. The Frenchman accommodates himself better to

circumstances than the Englishman; is as brave, though less

persevering; is more agile, though less vigorous. The French troops

here, too, are accustomed to the march through the forest, and the

skirmish in the wood; and their officers know far better than ours how

to carry on their operations with, or against, the Indians. We are too

rigid in our notions of discipline, too pedantic in our system of

tactics. In one set of circumstances, we follow the rules that are

only applicable to another; and in planning our operations, though we

may consider the local features of the country, and the force opposed

to us, we refuse to take into calculation the character and habits of

our enemy. We may be victorious in the end, and I trust in God that we

shall; but depend upon it, my good sir, we require, and shall have,

probably more than one good drubbing, before we learn our lesson

completely. Now, we cannot afford many drubbings, for our small island

cannot afford many men. Already, to contend with the enemies we have

in Europe, we have to subsidize fifty thousand foreigners, a practice

much to be deprecated, and which I should be sorry to see introduced

here; for though, by blood, not wholly English, I know that the

intrinsic value of the British soldier is superior to that of any

other on the face of the earth. We cannot, however, supply this

country with reinforcements to meet many checks; while France, from

her much larger population, can pour a continuous stream of troops

into her colonies."

"Not for long," answered his host. "The fabric of her power is

undermined at the foundation; the base is rotten; and the building,

though imposing without, is crumbling to decay. It is well, however,

to see as you do the utmost extent of a danger--perhaps, even to

overestimate it, in order to meet it the more vigorously. Depend upon

it, however, the present state of things in France is not destined for

long duration. I judge not by the feebleness she has shown of late

years in many most important efforts. Beset as she is by enemies, and

enemies close at her gates, distant endeavours may well be paralyzed

without there being any real diminution of her power. But I judge

from what I myself saw in that country a good many years ago. The

people--the energetic, active, though volatile people, in whom lies

her real strength--were everywhere oppressed and suffering. Misery

might drive them into her armies, and give them the courage of

despair; but, at the same time, it severed all ties between them and

those above them--substituted contempt and hatred for love and

reverence, in the case of the nobility, and fear, doubt, and an

inclination to resist, for affection, confidence, and obedience,

towards the throne. Corruption, spreading through every class of

society, could only appear more disgusting when clad in the robes of

royalty, or tricked out in the frippery of aristocracy; and nations

speedily learn to resist powers which they have ceased to respect. A

state of society cannot long endure, in which, on the one side,

boundless luxury, gross depravity, and empty frivolity, in a

comparatively small body, and grinding want, fierce passions, and

eager, unsated desires on the other side, are brought into close

contiguity, without one moral principle, or one religious light--where

there is nothing but the darkness of superstition, or the deeper

darkness of infidelity. Ere many years have passed, the crown of

France will have need of all her troops at home."

The stranger mused much upon his companion's words, and seemed to feel

that they were prophetical. The same, or very nearly the same, were

written by another; but they were not given to the world for several

years after, on the eve of the great catastrophe; and in the year one

thousand seven hundred and fifty-seven, few seemed to dream that the

power of France could ever be shaken, except by an external enemy. Men

ate, and drank, and danced, and sang, in the Parisian capital, as

gaily as they did in the palace of Sardanapalus, with as great a fall

at hand.

The conversation then assumed a lighter tone. Each asked the other of

his travels, and commented on many objects of interest which both had

seen on the broad high-ways of the world. Both were men of thought,

according to their several characters--both men of taste and

refinement; and the two young people, who had sat silent, listening to

their graver discourse, now joined in, from time to time, with happy

freedom and unchecked ease. Their father's presence was no restraint

upon them; for, in all that they had known of life, he had been their

companion and their friend--the one to whom their hearts had been ever

opened--the one chiefly reverenced from love. The stranger, too,

though he was grave, was in no degree stern, and there was something

winning even in his very gravity. He listened, too, when they

spoke--heard the brief comment--answered the eager question; and a

kindly smile would, ever and anon, pass over his lip, at the strange

mixture of refinement and simplicity which he found in those two young

beings, who passed many a month of every year without seeing any one,

except the wild Indians of the friendly tribes surrounding them, or an

occasional trader wending his way, with his wares, up the stream of

the Mohawk.

More than an hour was beguiled at the table--a longer period than

ordinary--and then the bright purple hues, which spread over the

eastern wall of the room, opposite to the windows, told that the

autumnal sun had reached the horizon. The master of the house rose to

lead the way into the other room again; but ere he moved from the

table, an additional figure was added to the group around it, though

the foot was so noiseless that no one heard its first entrance into

the chamber.

The person who had joined the little party was a man of the middle

age, of a tall, commanding figure, upright and dignified carriage, and

fine, but somewhat strongly-marked, features. The expression of his

countenance was grave and noble; but there was a certain strangeness

in it--a touch of wildness perhaps I might call it--very difficult to

define.

It was not in the eyes; for they were good, calm, and steadfast,

gazing straight at any object of contemplation, and fixed full upon

the face of any one he addressed. It was not in the lips; for, except

when speaking, they were firm and motionless. Perhaps it was in the

eyebrow, which, thick and strongly marked, was, every now and then,

suddenly raised or depressed, without any apparent cause.

His dress was very strange. He was evidently of European blood,

although his skin was embrowned by much exposure to sun and weather.

Yet he wore not altogether either the European costume, the garb of

the American back-woodsman, or that of the Indian. There was a mixture

of all, which gave him a wild and fantastic appearance. His coat was

evidently English, and had stripes of gold lace upon the shoulders;

his knee-breeches and high riding-boots would have looked English

also, had not the latter being destitute of soles, properly so called;

for they were made somewhat like a stocking, and the part beneath the

foot was of the same leather as the rest. Over his shoulder was a belt

of rattlesnake skin, and round his waist a sort of girdle, formed

from the claws of the bear, from which depended a string of wampum,

while two or three knives and a small tomahawk appeared on either

side. No other weapon had he whatever. But under his left arm hung a

common powder-flask, made of cow's horn, and, beside it, a sort of

wallet, such as the trappers commonly used for carrying their little

store of Indian corn. A round fur cap, of bear-skin, without any

ornament whatever, completed his habiliments.

It would seem that in that house he was well known; for its master

instantly held forth his hand to him, and the young people sprang

forward and greeted him warmly. A full minute elapsed before he spoke;

but nobody uttered a word till he did so, all seeming to understand

his habits.

"Well, Mr. Prevost," he said, at length, "I have been a stranger to

your wigwam for some time. How art thou, Walter? Not a man yet, in

spite of all thou canst do. Edith, my sweet lady, time deals

differently with thee from thy brother. He makes thee a woman against

thy will." Then, turning suddenly to the stranger, he said, "Sir, I am

glad to see you; were you ever at Kielmansegge?"

"Once," replied the stranger, laconically.

"Then we will confer presently," observed the new comer. "How have you

been this many a day, Mr. Prevost? You must give me food; for I have

ridden far--I will have that bear-skin, too, for my night's lodging

place, if it be not pre-engaged. No, not that one; the next. I have

told Agrippa to see to my horse, for I ever count upon your courtesy."

There was something extremely stately and dignified in his whole tone,

and, with frank straightforwardness, but without any indecorous haste,

he seated himself at the table, drew towards him a large dish of cold

meat, and, while Edith and her brother hastened to supply him with

everything else he needed, proceeded to help himself liberally to

whatever was within his reach. Not a word more did he speak for

several minutes, while Mr. Prevost and his guest stood looking on in

silence, and the two young people attended the new comer at the table.

As soon as he had done, he rose abruptly, and then, looking first to

Mr. Prevost, and next to the stranger, said--

"Now, gentlemen, if you please, we will to council."

The stranger hesitated; and Mr. Prevost answered, with a smile--

"I am not of the initiated, Sir William, so I and the children will

leave you with my guest, whom you seem to know, but of whose name and

station I am ignorant."

"Stay, stay," interposed the other, to whom he spoke, "we shall need

not only your advice but your concurrence. This gentleman, my lord, I

will answer for, as a faithful and loyal subject of his Majesty

King George. He has been treated with that hardest of all hard

treatment--neglect. But his is a spirit in which not even neglect can

drown out loyalty to his king and love to his country. Moreover, I may

say, that the neglect which he has met with has proceeded from a

deficiency in his own nature. God, unfortunately, did not make him a

grumbler, or he would have been a peer long ago. The Almighty endowed

him with all the qualities that could benefit his fellow-creatures,

but denied him those which were necessary to advance himself. Others

have wondered that he never met with honours, or distinction, or

reward. I wonder not at all; for he is neither a charlatan, nor a

coxcomb, nor a pertinacious beggar. He cannot stoop to slabber the

hand of power, nor lick the spittle of the man in office. How can such

a man have advancement? It is contrary to the course of the things of

this world. But as he has loved his fellow-men, so will he love them.

As he has served his country, so will he serve it. As he has sought

honour and truth more than promotion, honour and truth will be his

reward. Alas, that it should be the only one! But when he dies, if he

dies unrecompensed, it will not be unregretted or unvenerated. He must

be of our council."

Mr. Prevost had stood by in silence, with his eyes bent upon the

ground, and, perhaps, some self-reproach at his heart for the bitter

words that he had written only a few hours before. But Edith sprang

forward, and caught Sir William Johnson's hand, as he ended the

praises of her father; and, bending her head with exquisite grace,

pressed her lips upon it. Her brother seemed inclined to linger for a

moment; but saying, "Come, Walter," she glided out of the room, and

the young lad, following, closed the door behind him.

The Black Eagle; or, Ticonderoga · 第 2 / 49 章