ENGLAND ONCE MORE
Meanwhile, how was it faring with the tribesmen of the
Six Nations who had remained in their former territories
east of the Niagara? They were anxious to come to terms
with the government of the United States, but not by
themselves alone. In any treaty which might be made, they
wished the concurrence of the western tribes. The officials
of the new republic were, however, opposed to this and
treated their desire with scant courtesy. In 1784 a
conference was called at Fort Stanwix, but the western
tribes were not invited to come. While this was taking
place, Red Jacket, the Seneca orator, rose in the company
of his fellows and uttered a speech burning with eloquence.
His attitude towards the Americans had undergone a change
since Brant had undone his treachery before the war had
closed. The Six Nations should renew the contest, said
Red Jacket. Never should they submit to the yoke of their
oppressors. On the other hand, Chief Cornplanter, with
sounder judgment, argued for peace. It would surely be
an unwise thing for the Indians to enter upon a fresh
war single-handed, and without the assistance of their
former allies, the English.
At length Cornplanter had his way, and on October 22 a
treaty was made with the representatives of the United
States. By this treaty the Indians were to give up all
the prisoners of war still in their hands. Until this
was done, six hostages were to be furnished from among
their number. At the same time, the boundaries of the
country over which they held sway were defined.
Loud murmurs of complaint arose within the Six Nations
on the completion of this pact, and no one was more angry
than Joseph Brant himself. He was at Quebec, on the point
of leaving for England, but he hurried back on learning
the terms of the treaty. He was especially exasperated
because Aaron Hill, one of the lesser chiefs of the
Mohawks, was to be given up as a hostage. Arriving at
Cataraqui, Brant, on November 27, sent a long and stirring
letter to Colonel Munroe. In this he showed that his
Indians were in no way to blame for the retention of
prisoners of war. The fight was over, and the Six Nations
wanted harmony restored. With considerable feeling, he
referred to the 'customs and manners of the Mohawks.'
'They are always active and true,' he protested; 'no
double faces at war or any other business.
The difficulty was quickly righted and the War Chief
satisfied, but he saw that all the Indian races were in
a precarious position and might, sooner or later, be
drawn into hostilities. Meanwhile he was meditating a
scheme which might be likened to the bold conception of
Pontiac. In vision he saw all the Indian tribes united
into one far-reaching confederacy for the assertion of
their liberties. Brant was of a singularly ambitious
disposition and had no humble idea of his own capacities.
He pictured himself as the chosen head of such a vast
league of the native races. It was with this in view that
at this very time he paid a visit to the western tribes
and sought to ascertain their ideas upon the subject.
At the close of 1785 Brant was ready to make his second
journey across the Atlantic. It was indeed fitting, after
his years of active service for the crown, that he should
do homage once more at the English court. He desired,
also, to plead the cause of his Mohawks, who had lost so
much in the struggle. It is even likely that he was
pondering over his design of uniting all the tribes and
wished to disclose this scheme to the home authorities.
A striking sketch of the War Chief's appearance during
this period is given by the Baroness Riedesel. This
talented lady, who had met the Mohawk chief at Quebec,
was the wife of the noted general who led a troop of
Hessians in the War of the Revolution.
'I saw at this time,' she writes, 'the famous Indian
Chief, Captain Brant. His manners are polished: he
expressed himself with fluency, and was much esteemed by
General Haldimand.' The strenuous scenes through which
Brant had lived, indeed, seem to have left but little
impression on his face. 'I dined once with him at the
General's,' continued the baroness. 'In his dress he
showed off to advantage the half military and half savage
costume. His countenance was manly and intelligent, and
his disposition very mild.'
On his arrival in London for the second time, Brant
received a welcome even exceeding that which was given
him on his first visit. He was lauded as king of the red
men and lord of the boundless forest. In the houses of
the most illustrious people in the realm he was given a
place of high honour. One of those who took delight in
Brant's company was Lord Percy, heir to the dukedom of
Northumberland. Lord Percy had served in America and had
been adopted, according to Indian custom, into one of
the tribes of the Six Nations, and was called in its
language the Evergreen Brake. Charles James Fox, the
statesman, was also among the admirers of the War Chief.
Fox caused a beautiful silver snuff-box to be sent to
Brant, engraved with his initials. The Prince of Wales
was attracted by the chieftain and took Brant with him
on many of his jaunts about the capital. Brant was amazed
at some of the places to which his royal conductor
resorted. At the royal palace he was warmly greeted by
King George and Queen Charlotte and held in high esteem.
His official visit to their Majesties was marked by a
somewhat uncommon incident. As a dutiful subject, it was
in keeping with tradition that he should kiss the king's
hand, but this he refused to do. The War Chief could not
bend, even before the greatest of potentates. Turning to
the queen, however, after the fashion of a cavalier,
Brant said that he would be only too pleased to kiss her
hand. George III did not seem in the least annoyed. He
appeared rather to be delighted at this courtesy shown
his queen, and so the affair passed happily.
One humorous episode which happened during Brant's stay
in London caused quite a sensation. Through the good
graces of Earl Moira, he was invited to attend a masquerade
ball in Mayfair. It was to be a festive event, and people
of distinguished rank were expected to be present. Brant
did not go to any pains to deck himself out artfully for
the occasion, but was attired only in the costume of his
tribe. To change his appearance, he painted a portion of
his face, and arrived in this guise at the place of
entertainment. As he entered the gay ball-room, his lofty
plumage swayed grandly and a glittering tomahawk shone
from his girdle. The scene that met his eyes was resplendent
with life and beauty. Masked figures were flitting by,
clad in every imaginable garb. Here was a sleek-faced
friar, rotund and merry; there, a gypsy maid, or mild-eyed
shepherdess with her stave. Lonely hermits and whimsical
jesters, cackling witches, and members of a pilgrim
band--all thronged together with laugh or grimace, adding
their own peculiar lustre to the brilliant assembly. By
and by a Turk came strolling down the floor; he was a
diplomat of high degree, and two nymphs from the paradise
of Islam hovered near at hand. Suddenly the Turk caught
sight of the painted features of the sturdy redskin. He
stopped, and fixed the Indian with his gaze. Here, he
thought, was the chance for a bit of frolic. In a moment
he had lost his stately demeanour and lurched jocularly
towards the warrior. He reached for the Indian's face,
thinking it was screened with parchment. The next instant
he had tweaked the nose of the great chief of the Six
Nations. Above the confusing medley of sounds burst the
wild accents of the blood-freezing war-whoop. On the
instant Brant's tomahawk was forth from his girdle, and
was whirling about the head of the astonished offender.
Never had such a cry been heard within the halls of
fashion. Faces turned ashen pale and screams resounded
through the spacious mansion. Helter-skelter, in every
direction, fled the terrified masqueraders. The Moslem
thought that his last hour on earth had come. Then Brant's
arm fell; his tense features relaxed, and he had become
once more the genial 'Captain of the Mohawks.' According
to his own declaration, which may or may not have been
exactly true, he only intended a playful contribution to
the pleasures of the evening. The Turk was calmed, and
the frightened company came slowly streaming back.
Everything was explained and Brant became a greater hero
than ever before. Yet it is hardly likely that the pompous
follower of Islam ever forgot the lively scene which his
rashness had produced.
Notwithstanding the gay round of entertainment in which
he joined, Brant had been attending to the business
matters that had brought him to England. He had sent a
letter relative to the affairs of the Six Nations to Lord
Sydney, the secretary of state for Colonial Affairs, and
he delivered a speech upon the same topic in Sydney's
presence. He told him of the losses sustained by the
Indians, and hoped that a speedy settlement would be made
with them by the British government. 'On my mentioning
these matters, since my arrival in England,' wrote Brant,
'I am informed that orders are given that this shall be
done; which will give great relief and satisfaction to
those faithful Indians, who will have spirit to go on,
and their hearts [will] be filled with gratitude for the
King, their father's, kindness.'
Just before leaving for America, Brant received a letter
from Lord Sydney saying that King George desired that
the red men should receive justice. 'His Majesty,' said
Sydney, 'in consideration of the zealous and hearty
exertions of his Indian allies in the support of his
cause, and as a proof of his friendly disposition toward
them, has been graciously pleased to consent that the
losses already certified by the Superintendent-General
shall be made good.'